.'  i 


from  f ^e  &t6rarp  of 

(profcBBor  ^amuef  (gtifPer 

in  (^cmorg  of 

3ubge  ^amuef  (ttlifPer  (grecfttnrib^e 

gjreeentcb  6|? 

^amuef  (Jtliffer  (jBrecftinribge  feong 

to  f^  feifirarg  of 

(prtnceton  S^eofo^tcaf  Seminar)? 


THE 


WORKS 


REV.  ROBERT   HALL,  A.M. 


WITH   A   BRIEF    MEMOIR   OF    HIS    LIFE, 

BY  DR.  GREGORY, 

AND    OBSERVATIONS    ON    HIS    CHARACTER    AS   A    PREACHER, 

BY  THE  REV.  JOHN   FOSTER. 

PUBLISHED.  UNDER  THE  SUPERINTENDENCE  OF 

OLINTHUS    GREGORY,  LL.D.   F.R.A.S. 

PROFESSOR  OF   MATHEMATICS   IN   THE   ROYAL  MILITARY  ACADEMY. 

IN    THREE    VOLUMES. 

VOL.  in. 


NEW-YORK : 

PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  J.  &  J.  HARPER, 

NO.  82  CLIFF-STREET, 

AND    FOR    SALE   BY   THE   PRINCIPAL   BOOKSELLERS  THROUGHOUT    THE 
UNITED    STATES. 


1833. 


PREFACE. 


On  the  death  of  an  individual  so  admired  and  revered  as 
Mr.  Hall,  nothing  was  more  natural  than  that  a  desire  to  pos- 
sess a  complete  collection  of  his  Works  should  be  extensively- 
felt,  and  almost  as  extensively  expressed  ;  the  admirable  genius 
and  excellent  spirit  which  pervade  his  compositions,  as  well  as 
the  singularly  beautiful  language  in  which  his  sentiments  are 
generally  conveyed,  giving  to  them  a  very  unusual  fitness  to 
instruct  and  impress  the  minds  of  men. 

After  a  few  conversations  of  a  select  number  of  Mr.  Hall's  inti- 
mate friends,  it  was  resolved  that  a  complete  edition  should  be 
prepared  as  soon  as  possible  ;  partly  as  a  proper  mark  of 
respect  for  so  distinguished  a  writer  ;  partly,  as  conducive  to 
the  comfort  of  his  family  ;  and,  partly,  with  a  view  to  meet 
the  desire  so  strongly  felt  and  declared,  as  well  as  to  give  the 
utmost  possible  universality  and  permanency  to  the  benefits 
which  were  likely  to  accrue  from  a  correct  and  uniform  edition. 

The  intimate  friendship  which  had  very  long  subsisted 
between  Mr.  Hall  and  myself,  and  the  unreserved  frankness 
with  which  it  was  well  known  he  often  spoke  to  me  of  some 
of  his  productions,  and  the  plans  which  he  had  formed  as  to 
the  orderly  republication  of  the  chief  of  them,  led  his  family 
and  many  of  his  friends  to  express  a  most  earnest  wish  that  I 
would  undertake  the  superintendence  of  the  proposed  Work. 
And  although  an  almost  entire  want  of  leisure  from  heavy 
official  and  other  engagements  strongly  induced  me  to  decline 
the  undertaking,  yet  the  matter  was  so  urgently  pressed  upon 
me,  and  every  argument  employed  received  so  powerful  an 
accession  from  my  sincere  veneration  and  affection  for  Mr. 
Hall,  and  my  cordial  esteem  and  regard  for  his  excellent 
widow?-,  that  I  could  not  withhold  my  assent. 

My  reluctance  was  greatly  diminished  on  finding  that,  in 
the  preparation  and  arrangement  of  the  volumes,  I  could,  in 
every  case  where  such  aid  seemed  expedient,  avail  myself  of 
the  valuable  judgment  of  Mr.  Foster,  and  of  another  friend,  the 

a2 


iv  PREFACE. 

Rev.  W.  Anderson.  '  This  I  have  done  tliroughout,  with  only 
two  important  exceptions  :  the  one,  that  of  a  Letter  on  the 
Serampore  IMission,  in  vol.  ii. ;  the  other,  that  of  the  very  im- 
perfect biographical  memoir  which  appears  in  the  present  vol- 
ume, and  which,  from  want  of  time,  could  not  be  subjected  to 
their  judgment. 

With  regard  to  such  of  Mr.  Hall's  writings  as  had  been  pre- 
viously published,  either  under  his  own  name  or  anonymously, 
it  was  at  once  found  that  no  principle  of  selection  could  be  satis- 
factorily adopted,  and  that,  indeed,  nothing  could  be  omitted 
without  making  ourselves  -responsible  for  all  that  should  be 
retained.  Besides,  "  if  the  works  of  departed  genius  are  to  be 
submitted  to  the  censorship  of  a  timid  discretion,  or  the  mis- 
taken delicacy  of  friendship,"  and  some  suppressed,  some  muti- 
lated, some  softened  downj  who  can  say  how  far  their  influence 
may  be  impaired?  If,  for  example,  Mr.  Hall's  pohtical  writ- 
ings had  been  suppressed,  out  of  deference  to  those  whose 
opinions  were  different  from  his  ;  must  we  not,  upon  the  same 
principle  of  omission,  have  suppressed  his  line  defence  of 
Catholic  communion,  out  of  deference  to  the  strict-communion 
Baptists ;  his  defence  of  the  Puritans,  or  of  tlie  evangelical 
clergy,  out -of  deference  to  those  who  dislike  both  those  classes 
of  excellent  men?  And  if  so,  why  should  we  not  have  also 
suppressed  his  admirable  arguments  in  support  of  orthodox 
Christianity,  out  of  deference  to  those  who  maintain  heterodox 
sentiments ;  and  all  his  noble  declamation,  his  bold  invective, 
his  spirited  irony,  his  strong  reprehension  of  wickedness  and 
folly,  out  of  deference  to  those  who  think  '•  strong  language 
always  unbecoming,"  and  would  wish  the  public  instructer  to 
take  off  the  edge  of  his  well-meant  reproof  by  some  carefully 
studied,  unmeaning  attenuation  ?  as  though  the  ardent  phra- 
seology of  one  who  thought  intensely,  and  therefore  expressed 
himself  strongly,  upon  every  subject  which  he  deemed  worthy 
of  occupying  his  time  and  attention,  would,  by  cooling  it  down, 
to  meet  the  taste  of  men  of  lower  temperament,  make  a  deeper 
impression,  or  be  productive  of  more  lasting  good.  The  editors 
of  the  works  of  Mr.  Burke,  or  Bishop  Horsley,  have  not  ven- 
tured to  trifle  with  the  reputation  of  those  extraordinary  men, 
by  the  interspersion  of  .such  lacunai,  to  meet  the  variable 
tastes  of  their  readers ;  nor  have  we  :  for  thus  might  the 
works  of  our  inimitable  friend  have  been  reduced  to  a  mere 
pamphlet,  and  a  future  age  have  derived  no  more  benefit  from 
an  intellect  so  richly  endowed,  so  admirably  directed  as  his  to 
the  best  and  highest  purposes,  than  if  it  had  never  existed. 

Finding,  therefore,  no  ground  for  any  reasonable,  practicable 
rule  of  selection,  none  has  been  adopted.     The  only  article 


PREFACE.  V 

omitted  is  a  letter  published  by  Mr.  Hall  in  a  newspaper  nearly 
forty  years  since  ;  and  that,  because,  on  his-  subsequent  recon- 
ciliation to  the  individual  addressed,  both  parties  agreed,  in  the 
presence  of  their  mutual  friends,  that  aU  should  be  cast  into 
oblivion  that  "had  been  previously  said  or  written  by  either  in 
reference  to  the  points  of  controversy. 

In  selecting  from  Mr.  Hall's  manuscripts,  we  have  not 
referred  to  his  morbid  sensitiveness  with  regard  to  appearing 
before  the  world,  as  .the  rule 'of  action.  But,  while  we  have 
kept  his  high  reputation  in  mind,  we  have  also  had  in  view  the 
religious  instruction  of  the  general  reader. 

The  following  is  a  summary  of  the  contents  and  distribution 
of  these  Works. 

Vol.  I. — Sermons,  Charges,  and  Circular  Letters,  in- 
cluding a  sermon  on  Isaiah  liii.  8,  not  before  published.  Tracts 
on  Terms  of  Communion,  and  John's  Baptism; 

Vol.  II. — Tracts,  Political  and  Miscellaneous,  including  an 
unpublished  Fragment  of  a  Defence  of  Village  Preaching, 
Reviews,  and  Miscellaneous  Pieces,  including  several  not 
before  published. 

Vol.  III. — Notes  of  Sermons  from  the  Author's  own  Manu- 
scripts, with  a  Selection  frOm  his  Letters,  the  originals  of  which 
have  been  kindly  transmitted  by  various  friends,  and  Twenty- 
one  Sermons,  preached  by  Mr.  Hall,  on  various  occasions,, 
and  communicated  by  friends;  who  were  in  the  habit  of  taking 
down  his  discourses.  These  are  preceded  by  a  brief  Memoir 
of  Mr.  Hall's  Life  by  the  Editor  ;  and  Observations  on  his 
Character  as  a  Preacher,  by  Mr.  Foster. 

The  Sermons  published  in  this  volume,  although  given  in 
diiferent  degrees  of  fulness,  may  unquestionably  be  regarded  as 
presenting  a  more  exact  idea  of  the  usual  manner  and  substance 
of  Mr.  Hall's  preaching,  than  those  which  were  laid  before  tlie 
world  by  himself  In  all,  tiie  design,  the  argument,  and  the 
spirit  have  been  admirably  preserved  ;  while  in  most  the  very 
language  is  so  nearly  caught,  that  it  requires  not  a  strong  exer- 
cise of  imagination  to  recall  the  tones,  whether  solemn  and 
pathetic,  or  rapid  and  impressive,  with  which  it  was  actually 
delivered.  I  know  not  whether  Mrs.  Hall  or  the  public  will 
be  under  the  deepest  obligation  to  the  gentlemen  who  have 
thus  richly  contributed  to  the  value  of  the  Works. 

I  must  now  refer  to  that  of  which  I  should  most  gladly  have 
been  spared  the  necessity  of  speakino-— the  Biographical  Memoir 
of  Mr.  Hall. 

Immediately  after  the  publication  of  the  Works  was  decided 
upon,  I  suggested  the  expediency  of  soliciting  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh, whose  talents,  judgment,  taste,  and  delicacy,  as  well  as 


vi  PREFACE. 

his  known  attachment  to  Mr.  Hall,  gave  him  a  peculiar  fitness 
for  the  task,  to  undertake  a  sketch  of  the  literary  and  intel- 
lectual character  of  his  deceased  friend.  The  letter  which  I 
received  in  reply  to  my  application  will  show  how  promptly 
and  cordially  he  acceded  to  our  wishes. 

Great  Cumberland-street, 
1th  March,  1831. 
My  Dear  Sir, 
"  A  great  mail  is  fallen  in  Israel."    I  have  reflected  much  on  the 
subject  of  your  letter,  and  will  frankly  tell  you  what  seems  to  me  to  be 
right.     I  consider  myself  as  speaking  confidentially,  in  all  that  1  say,  to 
the  friend  of  my  ancient  friend. 


The  only  point  on  which  I  am  likely  to  differ  from  you  is  respecting 
your  own  fitness  to  write  a  Memoir.  I  shall  say  no  more  than  that,  if 
I  had  the  selection,  I  should  certainly  choose  you. 

I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  here  to  breakfast  on  Monday  next.  In 
the  mean  time  I  may  say  that  I  approve  of  your  plan  of  publishing 
Hall's  Sermons,  and,  if  possible,  all  his  writings.  If  your  want  of 
leisure  absolutely  prevents  you  from  undertaking  the  task,  and  if  it  be 
thought  likely  to  promote  the  interests  of  Hall's  family,  I  do  not  think 
myself  at  liberty  to  withhold  the  contribution  of  a  preface  to  the  editor 
chosen  by  the  family.  In  that  case  I  should  require  a  few  names  and 
dates,  and  a  perusal  of  his  writings  published  or  unpublished.  I  own 
to  you  that  I  prefer  the  old  custom  of  prefixing  such  a  modest  preface 
by  way  of  memoir,  to  the  modern  practice  of  writing  huge  narratives 
of  lives  in  which  there  are  no  events ;  which  seems  to  me  a  tasteless 
parade,  and  a  sure  way  of  transmitting  nothing  to  posterity. 

My  paper  would  chiefly  contain  the  recollections  of  my  youth,  and 
the  result  of  such  observations  on  Hall's  writings  as  a  careful  perusal 
of  them  might  naturally  suggest. 

I  am,  my  dear  sir,  with  real  esteem, 
Yours  very  faithfully, 

J.  Mackintosh. 

After  the  interview  proposed  in  this  letter,  and  two  or  three 
others  which  shortly  followed,  Sir  James,  having  matured  his 
plan,  agreed  to  devote  about  twenty  pages  to  the  purely 
biographical  part  of  the  Memoir,  and  perhaps  forty  more  to  the 
critical  estimate  of  Mr.  Hall's  writings,  of  his  literary  attain- 
ments, and  his  intellectual  powers.  But  the  pressure  of  his 
constant  attendance  in  Parliament  during  the  progress  of  the 
Reform  Bills,  and  of  his  heavy  occupations  as  chairman  of  the 
Committee  on  East  India  Affairs,  compelled  him  to  postpone 
this  labour  from  time  to  time,  until  his  much-lamented  death, 
in  May  last,  terminated  his  intentions,  and  our  hopes  and 
expectations. 

Proportioned  to  Sir  James's  remarkable  qualifications  for 
giving  a  critical  estimate  of  Mr.  Hall's  writings,  and  a  philo- 


PREFACE.  vii 

sophical  view  of  the  development  of  his  intellectual  character, 
must  be  the  regret  of  the  public  that  his  purposes  were  not 
accomplished,  and  the  reluctance  of  every  considerate  person 
to  attempt  a  similar  undertaking.  Indeed,  the  high  expecta- 
tions which  were  so  generally  formed,  of  the  delight  and 
instruction  that  would  be  imparted  by  Sir  James's  delineation, 
rested  upon  the  assurance  of  a  combination  of  qualities  in  him 
which  cannot  be  looked  for  elsewhere : — an  early  knowledge 
of  the  subject  of  the  memoir  ;  a  close  intimacy  with  him  at  the 
precise  time  when  his  faculties  were  most  rapidly  unfolding ; 
incessant  opportunities  of  watching  the  peculiarities  of  his 
intellectual  constitution,  and  of  measuring,  by  the  application 
of  power  to  power,  the  native  and  growing  energy  of  his  mind  ; 
a  mind  of  nearly  the  same  order,  and  possessing  many  of  the 
same  characteristics  ;  a  sincere  affection  for  his  friend,  ripened 
into  as  sincere  a  veneration  for  his  principles  ;  and  judgment, 
discrimination,  and  feeling  most  beautifully  attempered,  and 
exquisitely  fitted,  to  trace,  classify,  and  describe. 

Since  none,  therefore,  it  was  presumed,  would  follow  the 
plan  thus  laid  down,  from  an  absolute  despair  of  combining  the 
adequate  prerequisites,  the  idea  of  such  a  critical  estimate  w£is 
abandoned  ;  and  it  was  proposed  that,  instead  of  it,  a  concise 
Memoir,  more  strictly  biographical,  should  be  given. 

Mr.  Hall's  family,  and  the  friends  immediately  interested  in 
the  completion  and  success  of  these  Works,  strongly  urged  me 
to  this  additional  undertaking ;  and  though  I  for  some  weeks 
resisted  all  entreaty,  and  suggested  applications  to  others, 
whom  I  sincerely  thought  much  better  qualified,  yet,  finding 
that  the  Works,  regarded  as  literary  property,  were  receiving 
injury  from  the  delay,  however  inevitable,  I  at  length  consented 
to  prepare  the  Memoir,  modified,  as  it  must  be,  by  the  neces- 
sities of  the  case.  The  reasons  which  so  long  prevented  me 
from  yielding  to  the  wishes  of  these  friends  may  now  be 
adduced  in  apology  for  the  imperfections  with  which  I  am  per- 
suaded the  Memoir  abounds.  I  have  had  incessantly  to  en- 
counter difficulties  arising  from  the  nature  of  the  undertaking, 
— from  the  contrast,  which  will  assuredly  force  itself  upon  every 
reader,  between  my  unfitness  to  prepare  any  memorial  of  Mr. 
Hall,  and  the  peculiar  fitness  of  the  distinguished  individual  to 
whom  the  public  had  been  looking, — from  the  extraordinary 
character  of  the  subject  of  the  Memoir, — from  the  want  of  such 
incidents  and  events  as  give  interest  to  biography,  except, 
indeed,  one  or  two,  upon  which  no  man  of  delicacy  and  feeling 
could  dwell, — from  an  indifferent  state  of  health,  and  such  a 
total  want  of  leisure  as  never  allowed  me  to  devote  two  suc- 
cessive days,  and  seldom  indeed  two  successive  hours,  to  the 


viii  PREFACE. 

labour, — from  the  utter  impracticability  of  postponing  it  to  a 
more  favourable  season  ;  and,  in  addition  to  all  the  preceding^ 
the  difficulties  growing  out  of  a. sense  of  incompetency,  per- 
petually felt,  to  discharge  with  spirit  and  success  the  func- 
tions of  a  biographer  ;  the  habits  of  my  life," which  have  been 
those  of  demonstration,  disqualifying  me,  at  least  in  my  own 
judgment,  for  biographical  or  other  narration. 

In  the  midst  of  so  many  difficulties,  I  have  endeavoured,  to 
the  extent  of  my  own  information,  and  such  authentic  in- 
formation as  1  could  collect  from  others,  to  make  the  reader 
acquainted  with  the  principal  facts  in  Mr.  Hall's  life,  with  his 
pursuits,  his  manners,  his  deportment  in  private  and  domestic 
life,  and  as  a  minister.  I  have,  in  short,  aimed  to  trace  him 
from  childhood  to  maturity,  from  maturity  to  his  death,  and 
throughout  to  present  a  plain,  simple,  accurate,  and,  I  hope,  a 
sufficiently  full  account  of  this  most  eminent  and  estimable 
man.  His  extraordinary  talents  as  a  writer  will  be  infinitely 
better  inferred  from  the  perusal  of  his  Works,  than  from  any 
such  critical  examination  of  them  as  I  could  have  presented. 
Some  of  the  hints  which  are  occasionally  introduced  as  1  have 
proceeded  may,  perhaps,  assist  in  illustrating  a  few  peculiari- 
ties in  his  intellectual  character  ;  or,  by  connecting  some  of  his 
productions  with  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  com- 
posed, may  probably  cause  them  to  be  perused  with  additional 
interest.  But  I  have  kept  in  view  a  still  higher  object, — that 
of  tracing  him  in  his  social  and  moral  relations,  and  showing 
how  gradually,  yet  how  completely,  his  fine  talents  and  ac- 
quirements became  subordinated  to  the  power  of  Divine  grace, 
and  devoted  to  the  promotion  of  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  hap- 
piness of  man. 

Fearing,  however,  that  my  own  biographical  sketch  will 
convey  but  an  inadequate  idea,  even  of  Mr.  Hall's  private  and 
social  character,  I  have  inserted,  in  an  Appendix,  communi- 
cations received  from  three  friends,  and  which  will,  I  trust, 
serve  considerably  to  supply  my  deficiencies. 

Mr.  Hall's  qualities  as  a  preacher  I  have  attempted  to  describe 
briefly,  as  they  fell  under  my  own  notice  at  Cambridge ;  at  a 
season  when  they  had  nearly  reached  their  meridian  with 
regard  to  intellect  and  eloquence,  though  not  with  respect  to 
all  the  higher  requisites  of  ministerial  duty.  I  have  also  in- 
serted in  the  Appendix  a  short  account  of  Mr.  Hall's  preaching 
in  1821,  written  by  the  late  Mr.  .Tohn  Scott.  These,  with  the 
more  comprehensive,  elaborate,  and  philosophical  "Observa- 
tions," from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Foster,  will,  I  trust,  enable  such  as 
never  had  the  privileo-e  of  listenins:  to  Mr.  Hall's  instructions 
from  the  pulpit,  to  form  a  tolerable  estimate  of  his  power  as  a 


PREFACE.  ix 

preacher.  Although,  as  will  be  perceived,  I  differ  from  Mr. 
Foster  in  some  of  his  opinions  and  criticisms,  yet_  I  cannot  but 
fully  appreciate  the  peculiar  fidelity  and  corresponding  beauty 
with  which  he  has  delineated,  not  merely  the  more  prominent 
excellences  of  Mr.  Hall's  sermons,  both  with  regard  to  struc- 
ture and  delivery,  but  some  of  those  which,  while  they  are  pal- 
pable as  to  their  result,' are  la^tent  as  to  their  sources,  until  they 
are  brought  to  light  by  Mr.  Foster's  peculiar  faculty  of  mental 
research.  A'^d  hence  it  will,  J  am  persuaded,  be  found,  that 
while  he  only  professes  to  describe  the  character  of  his  friend 
"as  a  preacher,"  he  has  successfully  explored,  and  correctly 
exhibited,  those  attributes  of  his  intellectual  character  which 
caused  both  his  preaching  and  his  writing  to  be  so  singularly 
delightful  and  impressive. 

In  all  that  is  thus  presented,  whether  by  my  several  corres- 
pondents, by  Mr.  Foster,  or  by  myself,  the  object  has  not  been 
to  overload  the  character  of  our  deceased  friend  with  extrava- 
gant eulogium  ;  but  by  describing  it-  as  it  has  been  viewed  by 
different  individuals,  to  enable  the  public — and  may  I  not  add, 
posterity  '/ — to  form,  from  their  combined  result,  a  more  accurate 
estimate  of  his  real  character,  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious, 
than  could  be  gathered  from  the  efforts  of  any  single  writer. 

To  add  to  the  usefulness  of  the  Works,  by  facilitating  refer- 
ence to  any  part  of  them,  a  gentleman  of  competent  judgment 
and  information  has  prepared  the  general  Index,  which  is 
placed  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 

The  whole  Works  are  now' committed  to  the  public,  with  the 
persuasion  that  every  part,  except  that  which  the  editor  has 
felt  his  own  inability  to  execute  successfully,  will  be  favourably 
received ;  and  that  the  greater  portion  of  the  contents  will  be 
found  permanently  interesting,  instructive,  and  valuable. 

OLINTHUS  GREGORY. 

RoYAT-  Military  Academy, 
bth  Dec.  1832. 


CONTENTS    OF    VOL.  llf. 


Page 
A  Brief  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Hall,  A.M.,  by  Dr. 

Gregory 9 

Appendix. 
Note  A. — Miscellaneous  Gleanings  from  Mr.  Hall's  Conversa- 
tional Remarks 76 

B. — Quotations  from  the  Writings  of  Sir  James  Mackin- 
tosh and  Dr.  Parr .       83 

C. — Character  of  Mr.  Hall  as  a  Preacher.     By  Mr.  John 

Scott 87 

D. — Extract  of  a  Letter  from  Dr.  Prichard 89 

E. — Sketches  of  Mr.  Hall's  Character,  especially  in  Pri- 
vate Life 89 

Observations  on  Mr.  Hall's  Character  as  a  Preacher,  by  . 

John  Foster 95 

Note. — Serampore    Missionaries. — Letter    of   Mr.  Foster   to 

Dr.  Gregory 125 


NOTES  OF  SERMONS. 


L     On  the  Being  and  Name  of  Jehovah 13 

n.     The  Spirituality  of  the  Divine  Nature      ....  16 
HL     Outline  of  the  Argument  of  Twelve  Lectures  on  the  . 

Socinian  Controversy 19 

IV.     On  Christ's  Divinity  and  Condescension  ....  24 

V.     On  the  Spirit  and  Tendency,  of  Socinianism      ...  28 

VL     On  Angels '........  35 

VIL     On  the  Personality  of  Satan 41 

Vin.     On  the  extreme  Corruption  of  Mankind  before  the 

General  Deluge 51 

IX.     On  the  End  of  Man's  Existence 57 

X.     Claims  of  the  Flesh 59 

XI.     On  the  Cause,  Agent,  and  Purpose  of  Regeneration  65 

XIL     On  Spiritual  Death 70 

XIII.  On  Conversion,  as  illustrated  by  that  of  St.  Paul   .  74 

XIV.  On  the  Conversion  of  St.  Paul 78 

XV.     The   Lamb  slain,  the  Object  of  Rapture  to  the 

Heavenly  Hosts 84 


Xll 


XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 


XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 
XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 
XLl. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

The  Glory  6f  Christ's  Kingdom     .......  88 

On  Spiritual  Leprosy 0.3 

On  ISpiritiial  Leprosy 96 

On  Counting  the  Cost ".     ,     .101 

Parallel    between  the  War  with  the   Canaanitish 
Nations,  and  that  of  Believers  with  their  Spiritual 

Enemies   .     .     .     .-..•.   "^     .•.''..   .     .     .  106 

On  the  Law  of  God  in  the  Heart 112 

On  Prayer  for  the  Increase  of  Faith   .....  117 
Second  Discourse  on  Prayer  for  the  Increase  of 

Fahh 119 

On  Wisdom ..     .     .     ....  121 

On  Engagedness  of  Heart  in  approaching  unto  God  125 

On  Family  Worship 130 

Reflections  on  the  Inevitable  Lot  of  Human  Life    .  137 

On  Chastisement  resulting  in  Penitence  ....  142 
On  the  Comforts  of  Christians  under  either  Worldly 

or  Spiritual  Trials  .     . 145 

On  Humility  before  God 149 

On  Patience .154 

On  Candour  and  Liberality,  as  evinced  in  promoting 

the  Erection  of  Places  of  Worship      .     .     .     .  157 

On  the  Reward  of  the  Pious  in  Heaven  ....  164 

On  taking  the  Name  of.  God  in  Vain 169 

On  the  Origin  and  Import  of  the  Name  Christians  174 
On  Love  of  the  Brethren,  as  a  Criterion  of  a  State 

of  Salvation '     .     .     .     .  180 

On  the  Duty  of  Intercession 185 

God's  Eicrnity  considered,  in  Heference  to  the  Sus- 
pension of  his  promised  Purposes 189 

The  Lord's-day  commemorative  of  Christ's  Resur- 
rection   ■   .     .  193 

Christ's  Care  over  Churches  and  Ministers  .     .     .  196 

No  Temple  in  Heaven 199 


LETTERS. 

I.     To  the  Baptist  Church,. Broadmead,  Bristol     .     .     207 
II.      To  tiie  Rev.  Isaiah  Birt,  Plymouth 208 

III.  Accepting  the  Pastoral  Charge  of  the  Baptist  Church 

at  Cambridge 209 

IV.  To  Miss  Wilkins,  afterward  Mrs.  Fysh,  of  Cam- 

berwell 209 

V.     To  Mrs.  Fysh,  of  Camberwell,  on  the  Death  of  her 

Sister,  Mrs.  Parsons 211 

VI.     To  tlie  Rev.  James  Phillips,  Haverfordwest  .     .     .  213 


CONTENTS. 


XlU 


Page 

VII.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips 214 

VIII.      To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips 216 

IX.     To  Mrs.  Tucker,  Plymouth  Dock  ......  217 

X.     To  Mrs.  Tucker 218 

XI.     To  Mf.  Hewitt  Fysh,  Camberwell,  on  the  Death 

of  Mrs.  Fysh      . 219 

Xl^I.     To  Dr.  Gregory. — Origin  and  Object  of  the  Ec- 

■     -lectic  Review- 221 

XIII.     To  William   Hollick,  Esq.,  of  Whittlesford,  near 
•  Cambridge. — On  his  own  Recovery  from  a  severe 

Malady 221 

.  XIV.     To  Dr.  Gregory .-^On  the  Certainty  attending  Re- 
ligious Knowledge  .     .'    .      . 222 

XV.     To  William  Hollick,  Esq.-;-On  his  Recovery  from 

a  second  Attack '  224 

XVI.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips  ..-...'..  225 
XVII.     To  the  Church  of  Christ,  of  the  Baptist  Persuasion, 
in     Cambridge. — On     resigning     the     Pastoral 

Charge 226 

XVIII.     The   Baptist  Church    at  Cambridge    to    the    Rev. 

Robert  Hall. — In  Reply  to  the  preceding  .     .     .  227 

XIX.     To  Mr.  Newton  Bosworth,  Cambridge     ....  22:S 

XX.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips  ."    .    ( 223 

XXI.     To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cox 231 

•   XXII,'    To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ryland 232 

XXIII.  To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips  .      .      . 233 

XXIV.  To  a  Friend  in  Perplexity  as  to  his  Religious  State  233 
XXV.  .  To  the  same     .     .     .    " 234 

'XXVI.     To  the  Rev.  James  Pliillips.      ,. 235 

XXVII.     To  Ebenezer  Foster,  Esq.,  Cambridge    ....  236 

XXVIIL     To  the  Rev.  Josiah  Hill *.     .      .  237 

XXIX.     To  William  Hollick,  Esq.— On  the  Death  of  Mrs- 

Hollick      .     .     .     .     . 238 

XXX.     To  R.  Foster,  Jun.  Esq.,  Cambridge  .      .     .     .      .  239 

XXXI.  To  Joseph  Gutteridge,  Esq.,  Denmark  Hill,  Cam- 

berwell        240 

XXXII.  .  From  Mr.  Gutteridge  to  Mr.  Hall. — Proposing  that 

he  should  preach  a  Series  of  Lectures  in  London  240 

XXXIII.  To    Joseph    Gutteridge,    Esq. — In    Reply    to    the 

,    preceding 242 

XXXIV.  To  Joseph  Gutteridge,  Esq. — On  the  same  Subject  243 
XXXV.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips 244 

XXXVI.     Extract  of  a  Letter  to  Mrs.  Angas,  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne    245 

XXXVII.     To  Mr.  Newton  Bosworth,  Cambridge     ....  246 
XXXVIII.     To  my  young  Friends  of  Mr.  Edmond's  Congre- 
gation    247 

XXXIX.     Extract  from  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  W.  Button     .     .  248 


Xiv  CONTENTS. 

Page 

XL.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips,  Clapham. — On  Occa- 
sion of  the  Death  of  his  own  Son 248 

XLI.     To  the  Rev.  W.  Button 249 

XLII.     To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Fletcher  of  Blackburn,  now  of 

Stepney " 250 

XLIII.     To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Fletcher     ....'.:..  251 

XLIV.     To  Dr.  Ryland  .     .  " 252 

XLV.     To  Mr.  Josiah  Conder 253 

XLVI.     To  the  Rev.  W.  Chaplin,  Bishop  Stortford   .     .     .254 

XLVII.     To  Dr.  Ryland .  ' 255 

.  XLVIII.     Extract  from  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  W.  Button    .     .  255 

XLIX.     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield,  Clifton    ....  256 

L.     To  Dr.  Ryland.— On  Public  Missionary  Meetings  257 

LL     To  Dr.  Ryland 258 

■LIL     To  Dr.  Ryland.— (Extract.) 259 

Lin.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips .259 

LIV.     To  Dr.  Gregory,  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Boswell 

Brandon  Beddome 260 

LV.     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Langdon,  Leeds      ....  261 

LVL     To  Dr.  Ryland  . ...  262 

LVIL     To  William  Hollick,  Esq 263 

LVIII.     Extract  from  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  W.  Button     .     .  264 
LIX.     To  the  Rev.  James  Phillips. — (Extract.)     .     -     .  265 
LX.     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield,  Clifton.— What  Doc- 
trines are  fundamental  ?....."...  265 
LXL     To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Ivimey,  London   .....  267 

LXIL     To  Mrs.  Tucker 268 

LXIIL     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Langdon 269 

LXIV.     To   a  Gentleman  at  Trinity   College,  Cambridge 

— On  Future  Punishment 270 

LXV.     To  Richard  Foster,  Jun.  Esq, 271 

L:>i:VL     To  the  Rev.  Isaiah  Birt 272 

LXVn.     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Langdon,  of  Leeds. — On  the 

Death  of  his  Daughter 273 

LXVin.     To  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield,  Clifton.— On  Hutch- 

insonianism 273 

LXIX.     To  the  Rev. . — In  Reply  to  a  Request  to  write 

a  Review 274 

LXX.     To  Mr.  J.  E.  Ryland.— (Extract.) 275 

LXXI.     To  Mrs.  Langdon. — On  the  Death  of  her  Husband  276 

LXXII.     To  J.  B.  Williams,  Esq.,  Shrewsbury      ....  277 

LXXIII.     To  Mr.  J.  E.  Ryland 278 

LXXIV.     To  Mr.  J.  E.  Ryland.— On  Dr.  Ryland's  Death     .  279 

LXXV.     To  Mrs.  Ryland.— On  the  same 279 

LXXVI.     To  Mr.  Arthur  Tozer,  Bristol. — In  reference  to  Mr. 

Hall's  Removal  to  Broadraead 280 

LXXVII.     To  the  same 281 

LXXV  III.     To  the  same 282 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


LXXIX. 
LXXX. 

LXXXI. 
LXXXII. 
LXXXIII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXV. 

LXXXVI. 


Page 


To  the  same 284 

To  the  Church  of  Christ  assembling  in  Broadmead, 

Bristol,  on  accepting  the  Pastoral  Office  .  . 
To  the  Rev.  P.  J.  Saflery,  of  Salisbury  .  .  . 
To  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  P.  Smith,  Homerton  .  .  . 
To  W.  B.  Gurney,  Esq.— On  the  Death  of  Mrs 

Gurney 288 

To  Ebenezer  Foster,  Esq •■.     ,     .     .     289 

To  James  Nutter,  Esq.,  Shelford,  near  Cambridge     290 
To  Ebenezer  Foster,  Esq.,  Cambridge    ....     291 


285 
285 
286. 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 
VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

xn. 

XIII. 
XIV. 


XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 


SERMONS. 

The  Spirituality  of  the  Divine'  Nature     ....  295 

The  Glory  of  God  in  Concealing 310 

On   the   Duty,  Happiness,  and    Honour  of  main- 
taining the  Course  prescribed  to  us  by  Providence  332 
Christ's  Pre-existence,  Condescension,  and  Exalt- 
ation       340 

The  Glory  of  Christ's  Kingdom 353 

God's  Ways,  though  often  inscrutable,  are  righteous 

and  just 363 

On  the  Discouragements  of  Pious  Men    ....  372 

The  Vanity  of  Man  apart  from  his  Immortality     .  380 

Death,  the  last  Enemy,  shall  be  destroyed    .     .     .  387 

The  Success  of  Missions  depends  upon  the  Agency  •  • 

of  the  Spirit 3gg 

The  Signs  of  the  Times 424 

The  Love  of  Life ^  423 

The  Lamb  of  God — his  Character — his  Sacrifice 

— and  nis  Claim  to  Universal  Attention     .     ,     .  430 
The  Advantages  of  Civil  Government,  contrasted 
with  the  Blessings  of  the  Spiritual  Kingdom  of 

Jesus  Christ 444 

The  Enlargement  of  Christian  Benevolence     .     .  452 

Marks  of  Love  to  God [  459 

The  Joy  of  Angels  over  a  Repenting  Sinner     .     .  466 

Nature  and  Danger  of  Evil  Communications  .  .  475 
The   Evils   of   Idolatry,  and    the   Means   of   its 

Abolition 4gy 

Christ's  Mission  for  the  Adoption  of  Sons  in  the 

Fulness  of  Time 494 

Points  of  Agreement  in  the  State  of  the  Rich  and 

^he  Poor 509 


A  BRIEF  MEMOIR 


THE   REV.   ROBERT    HALL,  A.M. 


BY   DR.   GREGORY. 
Vol.  III.— 1 


A  BRIEF  MEMOIR 


REV.    ROBERT    HALL,  A.M. 


Robert  Hall,  whose  Works  are  collected  in  the  volumes  now  pub- 
lished, was  born  at  Arnsby,  a  village  about  eight  miles  from  Leicester 
on  the  2d  of  May,  1764.  His  father  was  descended  from  a  respectable 
family  of  yeomanry  in  Northumberland,  whence  he  removed  to  Arnsby 
in  1753,  on  being  chosen  the  pastor  of  a  Baptist  congregation  in  that 
place.  He  was  not  a  man  of  learning,  but  a  man  of  correct  judgment 
and  solid  piety,  an  eloquent  and  successful  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and 
one  of  the  first  among  the  modern  Baptists  in  our  villages  who  aimed 
to  bring  them  down  from  the  heights  of  ultra-Calvinism  to  those  views 
of  religious  truth  which  are  sound,  devotional,  and  practical.  He  was 
the  author  of  several  useful  publications,  of  which  one,  the  "  Help  to 
Zion's  Travellers,"  has  gone  through  several  editions,  and  is  still  much 
and  beneficially  read,  on  account  of  its  tendency  to  remove  various 
often-urged  objections  against  some  momentous  points  of  evangelical 
truth.  He  was  often  appointed  to  draw  up  the  "  Circular  Letters"  from 
the  ministers  and  messengers  of  the  Northampton  Association.  One 
of  these  letters,  published  in  1776,  presents,  in  small  compass,  so  able  a 
defence  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  that  it  might  be  advantageously 
republished  for  more  general  circulation.  This  excellent  man  died  in 
March,  1791.  His  character  has  been  beautifully  sketched  by  his  son,* 
who,  in  one  sentence,  while  portraying  his  father,  with  equal  accuracy 
depicted  himself: — "  He  appeared  to  the  greatest  advantage  upon  sub- 
jects where  the  faculties  of  most  men  fail  them ;  for  the  natural  ele- 
ment of  his  mind  was  greatness." 

The  wife  of  this  valuable  individual  was  a  woman  of  sterling  sense 
and  distinguished  piety.     She  died  in  December,  1776. 

Robert  was  the  youngest  of  fourteen  children,  six  of  whom  survived 
their  parents.  Four  of  these  were  daughters,  of  whom  three  are  still 
living ;  the  other  son,  John,  settled  as  a  farmer  at  Arnsby,  and  died  in 
1806. 

Robert,  while  an  infant,  was  so  delicate  and  feeble,  that  it  was 
scarcely  expected  he  would  reach  maturity.  Until  he  was  two  years 
of  age  he  could  neither  walk  nor  talk.  He  was  carried  about  in  the 
arms  of  a  nurse,  who  was  kept  for  him  alone,  and  who  was  directed  to 
take  him  close  after  the  plough  in  the  field,  and  at  other  times  to  the 
sheep-pen,  from  a  persuasion,  very  prevalent  in  the  midland  counties, 
that  the  exhalations  from  newly  ploughed  land,  and  from  sheep  in  the 

*  See  vol.  ii.  p.  369-371 


4  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

fold,  are  salubrious  and  strengthening.  Adjacent  to  his  fathers  dwell- 
incr-house  was  a  burial-ground ;  and  the  nurse,  a  woman  of  integrity 
and  intelligence,  judging  from  his  actions  that  he  was  desirous  to  learn 
the  meaning  of  the  inscriptions  on  the  grave-stones,  and  of  the 
various  figures  carved  upon  them,  managed,  by  the  aid  of  those  inscrip- 
tions, to  teach  him  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  then  to  group  them  into 
syllables  and  words,  and  thus,  at  length,  to  read  and  speak.  No  sooner 
was  his  tongue  loosed  by  this  unusual  but  efficient  process,  than  his 
advance  became  constantly  marked.  Having  acquired  the  ability  to 
speak,  his  constitutional  ardour  at  once  appeared.  He  was  inces- 
santly asking  questions,  and  became  a  great  and  a  ra-pid  talker.  One 
day,  when  he  was  about  three  years  old,  on  his  expressing  disapproba- 
tion of  some  person  w  ho  spoke  quickly,  his  mother  remhided  him  that 
he  spoke  very  fast ;  "  iVo,"  said  he,  "  /  only  keep  at  it." 

Like  many  others  who  were  born  in  villages,  he  received  his  first 
regular  instructions  (after  he  left  his  nurse's  arms)  at  a  dame's  school. 
Dame  Scotton  had  the  honour  of  being  his  first  professional  instructer. 
From  her  he  was  transferred  to  a  Mrs.  Lyley,  in  the  same  village. 
While  under  their  care  he  evinced  an  extraordinary  thirst  for  know- 
ledge, and  became  a  collector  of  books.  In  the  summer  season,  after 
the  school-hours  were  over,  he  would  put  his  richly  prized  library, 
among  which  was  an  Entick's  Dictionary,  into  his  pinafore,  steal  into 
the  grave-yard  (which,  from  an  early  and  fixed  association,  he  regarded 
as  his  study),  lie  down  upon  the  grass,  spread  his  books  around  him, 
and  there  remain  until  the  deepening  shades  of  evening  compelled  him 
to  retire  into  the  house. 

At  about  six  years  of  age  he  was  placed,  as  a  day-scholar,  under  the 
charge  of  a  Mr.  Simmons,  of  Wigston,  a  village  about  four  miles  from 
Arnsby.  At  first,  he  walked  to  school  in  the  mornings,  and  home  again 
in  the  evenings.  But  the  severe  pain  in  his  back,  from  which  he  suffered 
so  much  through  life,  had  even  then  begun  to  distress  him  ;  so  tliat  he 
was  often  obliged  to  lie  down  upon  the  road,  and  sometimes  his  brother 
John  and  his  other  school-fellows  carried  him,  in  turn,  he  repaying  them 
during  their  labour  by  relating  some  amusing  story,  or  detailing  some 
of  the  interesting  results  of  his  reading.  On  his  father's  ascertaining 
his  inability  to  walk  so  far  daily,  he  took  lodgings  for  him  and  his 
brother  at  the  house  of  a  friend  in  the  village :  after  this  arrangement 
was  made,  they  went  to  Wigston  on  the  Monday  mornings,  and  returned 
to  Arnsby  on  the  Saturday  afternoons. 

The  course  of  instruction  at  Mr.  Simmons's  school  was  not  very  ex- 
tensive ;  and  Robert  was  not  likely  to  restrict  himself,  as  a  student,  to 
its  limits.  On  starting  from  home  on  the  Monday,  it  was  his  practice 
to  take  with  him  two  or  three  books  from  his  father's  library,  that  he 
might  read  them  in  the  intervals  between  the  school  hours.  The  books 
he  selected  were  not  those  of  mere  amusement,  but  such  as  required 
deep  and  serious  thought.  The  works  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  for  ex- 
ample, were  among  his  favourites  ;  and  it  is  an  ascertained  fact,  that 
before  he  was  nine  years  of  age,  he  had  perused  and  reperused,  with 
intense  interest,  the  treatises  of  that  profound  and  extraordinary  thinker, 
on  the  "  Affections,"  and  on  the  "  Will."  About  the  same  time  he  read, 
with  a  like  interest,  "  Butler's  Analogy."  He  used  to  ascribe  his  early 
predilection  for  this  class  of  studies,  in  great  measure,  to  his  intimate 
association,  in  mere  childhood,  with  a  tailor,  one  of  his  father's  congre- 
gation, a  very  shrewd,  well-informed  man,  and  an  acute  metaphysician. 
Before  he  was  ten  years  old,  he  had  written  many  essays,  principally 
on  religious  subjects ;  and  often  invited  his  brother  and  sisters  to  hear 


EARLY  INSTRUCTION.  5 

him  preach.  About  this  time,  too,  in  one  of  tliose  anticipatory  distri- 
butions of  a  father's  property,  which,  I  apprehend,  are  not  unusual  with 
boys,  he  proposed  that  his  brother  should  have  the  cows,  sheep,  and 
pigs,  on  their  father's  death,  and  leave  him  "  all  the  books."  These 
juvenile  "  dividers  of  the  inheritance,"  seem  to  have  overlooked  their 
sisters;  unless,  indeed,  they  assigned  them  the  furniture.  The  inci- 
dent, however,  is  mentioned  simply  to  show  what  it  was  that  Robert 
even  then  most  prized. 

He  remained  at  Mr.  Simmons's  school  until  he  was  eleven  years  of 
age,  when  this  conscientious  master  informed  the  father  that  he  was 
quite  unable  to  keep  pace  with  his  pupil,  declaring  that  he  had  been 
often  obliged  to  sit  up  all  night  to  prepare  the  lessons  for  the  morning; 
a  practice  he  could  no  longer  continue,  and  must  therefore  relinquish 
his  favourite  scholar. 

The  proofs  of  extraordinary  talent  and  of  devotional  feeling  which 
Robert  had  now  for  some  time  exhibited,  not  only  gratified  his  excel- 
lent parents,  but  seemed  to  mark  the  expediency  and  propriety  of  de- 
voting him  to  the  sacred  office ;  but  the  delicate  health  of  the  son,  and 
the  narrow  means  of  the  father,  occasioned  some  perplexity.  Mr. 
Hall,  therefore,  took  his  son  to  Kettering,  in  order  that  he  might  avail 
himself  of  the  advice  of  an  influential  and  valued  friend  residing  there, 
Mr.  Beeby  Wallis.  Their  interview  soon  led  to  the  choice  of  a  suitable 
boarding-school ;  but  the  pallid  and  sickly  appearance  of  tlie  boy  exciting 
Mr.  Wallis's  sympathy,  he  prevailed  upon  his  father  to  leave  him  at  his 
house  for  a  few  weeks,  in  the  hope  that  change  of  air  would  improve  his 
health.  This  gentleman  was  so  greatly  astonished  at  the  precocity  of 
talent  of  his  youthful  visiter,  that  he  several  times  requested  him  to 
deliver  a  short  address  to  a  select  auditory  invited  for  the  purpose. 
The  juvenile  orator  often  afterward  adverted  to  the  injury  done  him 
by  the  incongruous  elevation  to  which  he  was  thus  raised.  "Mr. 
Wallis,"  said  he,  "  was  one  whom  everybody  loved.  He  belonged  to 
a  family  in  which  probity,  candour,  and  benevolence  constituted  the 
general  likeness :  but  conceive,  sir,  if  you  can,  the  egregious  impro- 
priety of  setting  a  boy  of  eleven  to  preach  to  a  company  of  grave 
gentlemen,  full  half  of  whom  wore  wigs.  I  never  call  the  circum- 
stance to  mind  but  with  grief  at  the  vanity  it  inspired ;  nor,  when 
I  think  of  such  mistakes  of  good  men,  am  I  incUned  to  question  the 
correctness  of  Baxter's  language,  strong  as  it  is,  where  he  says,  '  Nor 
should  men  turn  preachers  as  the  river  Nilus  breeds  frogs  (saith 
Herodotus),  when  one  halimoveth  before  the  other  is  made,  and  while  it 
is  yet  but  plain  mud  /'  "* 

Robert's  health  appearing  much  improved  from  his  short  residence  at 
Kettering,  he  was  placed  by  his  father  as  a  boarder,  at  the  school  of 
the  Rev.  John  Ryland  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Northampton.  Mr. 
Ryland  was  a  very  extraordinary  man,  whose  excellences  and  eccen- 
tricities were  strangely  balanced.  In  him  were  blended  the  ardour  and 
vehemence  of  Whitfield,  with  the  intrepidity  of  Luther.  His  pulpit 
oratory  was  of  the  boldest  character,  and  singularly  impressive,  when 
he  did  not  overstep  the  proprieties  of  the  ministerial  function.  In  his 
school  he  was  both  loved  and  feared;  his  prevailing  kindness  and 
benevolence  exciting  affection,  while  his  stern  determination  to  do  what 
was  right,  as  well  as  to  require  what  he  thought  right,  too  often  kept  alive 
among  his  pupils  a  sentiment  of  apprehension  and  alarm.  So  far  as  I 
can  learn,  from  several  who  had  been  under  his  care,  he  taught  Greek 

*  Saint's  Rest,  Preface  to  Part  11.  original  edition. 


6  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

better  than  Latin,  and  the  rudiments  of  mathematical  science  with  more 
success  than  those  of  grammar  and  the  languages.  His  pupils  never 
forgot  his  manner  of  explaining  the  doctrine  and  application  of  ratios 
and  proportions ;  and  they  who  had  ever  formed  a  part  of  his  "  living 
orrery,"  by  which  he  incorporated  the  elements  of  tlie  solar  system 
among  the  amusements  of  tlie  play-ground,  obtained  a  knowledge  of 
that  class  of  facts  which  they  seldom,  if  ever,  lost. 

Our  youthful  student  remained  under  Mr.  Ryland's  care  but  little  more 
than  a  year  and  a  half;  during  which,  however,  according  to  his  father's 
testimony,  "  he  made  great  progress  in  Latin  and  Greek  ;"  while,  in  his 
own  judgment,  the  principle  of  emulation  was  called  into  full  activity, 
the  habit  of  composition  was  brought  into  useful  exercise,  the  leading 
principles  of  abstract  science  were  collected,  and  a  thirst  for  knowledge 
of  every  kind  acquired.  It  should  also  be  mentioned  here,  that  it  was 
during  the  time  Robert  was  Mr.  Ryland's  pupil  that  he  heard  a  sermon 
preached  at  Northampton,  by  Mr.  Robins,  of  Daventry,  whose  rehgious 
instruction,  conveyed  "  in  language  of  the  most  classic  purity,"  at  once 
"impressive  and  delightful,"  excited  his  early  relish  for  chaste  and 
elegant  composition.* 

From  the  time  he  quitted  Northampton  until  he  entered  the  "  Bristol 
Education  Society,"  or  academy  for  the  instruction  of  young  men  pre- 
paring for  the  ministerial  office  among  the  Baptists,  he  studied  divinity, 
and  some  collateral  subjects,  principally  under  the  guidance  of  his 
father,  with  occasional  hints  from  his  acute  metaphysical  friend,  still 
residing  in  the  same  village.  Having,  in  this  interval,  given  satisfac- 
tory proofs  of  his  piety,  and  of  a  strong  predilection  for  the  pastoral 
office,  he  was  placed  at  the  Bristol  Institution,  upon  Dr.  Ward's  founda- 
tion, in  October,  1778,  being  then  in  his  fifteenth  year.  He  remained 
there  until  the  autumn  of  1781,  when  the  president  of  the  institution 
reported  to  the  general  meeting  of  subscribers  and  friends,  that  "  two 
pupils,  Messrs.  Stennet  and  Hall,  had  been  continued  upon  Dr.  Ward's 
exhibition,  but  were  now  preparing  to  set  out  for  Scotland,  according 
to  the  doctor's  will." 

The  Bristol  Academy,  when  Mr.  Hall  first  joined  it,  was  under  the 
superintendence  of  the  Rev.  Hugh  Evans,  who  was  shortly  afterward 
succeeded  by  his  son.  Dr.  Caleb  Evans,  both  as  president  of  the  insti- 
tution, and  as  pastor  of  the  Baptist  church  in  Broadmead.  The  Rev. 
James  Newton  was  the  classical  tutor.  Under  these  able  men  he  pur- 
sued his  studies  with  great  ardour  and  perseverance.  He  became  an 
early  riser;  and  it  was  remarked  in  consequence,  that  he  was  often 
ready  to  attend  the  tutor  for  the  morning  lessons,  before  some  of  his 
fellow-students  had  commenced  their  preparation. 

His  sentunents  at  this  time  respecting  his  theological  tutor,  and  the 
importance  of  his  studies  in  general,  may  be  gathered  from  the  subjoined 
extracts  from  two  letters  to  his  father,  both  written  before  July,  1780. 

"  Dr.  Eviins  is  a  most  amiable  person  in  every  respect :  as  a  man,  generous  and 
open-hearted ;  as  a  Christian,  lively  and  spiritual ;  as  a  preacher,  pathetic  and  fer- 
vent ;  and  as  a  tutor,  gentle,  meek,  and  condescending.  I  can  truly  say  that  he 
has,  on  all  occasions,  behaved  to  me  with  the  tenderness  and  atTeclion  of  a  parent, 
whom  I  am  bound  by  tlie  most  endearing  ties  to  hold  in  everlasting  honour  and 
esteem. 

"  Through  the  goodness  of  God,  of  whom  in  all  things  I  desire  to  be  contin- 
ually mindful,  my  pursuits  of  knowledge  afford  me  increasing  pleasure,  and  lay 
open  fresh  sources  of  improvement  and  entertainment.     That  branch  of  wisdom 
in  which,  above  all  others,  I  wish  and  crave  your  assistance  is  divinity,  of  all  others 
*  See  vol.  ii.  p.  390. 


AT  THE  BRISTOL  INSTITITTION.  7 

the  most  interesting  and  important.  It  is  the  height  of  my  ambition,  that,  in  some 
happy  period  of  my  life,  my  lot  may  be  cast  near  you,  when  I  may  have  the  un- 
speakable pleasure  of  consulting,  on  different  subjects,  you,  whose  judgment  I  es- 
teem not  less  than  an  oracle. 

"  We,  poor  short-sighted  creatures,  are  ready  to  apprehend  that  we  know  all 
things,  before  we  know  any  thing  ;  whereas  it  is  a  great  part  of  knowledge  to 
know  that  we  know  nothing.  Could  we  behold  the  vast  depths  of  unfathomed 
science,  or  glance  into  the  dark  recesses  of  hidden  knowledge,  we  should  be  ready 
to  tremble  at  the  precipice,  and  cry  out,  '  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  1" 

The  system  of  instruction  at  Bristol  comprehended  not  merely  the 
learned  languages  and  the  rudiments  of  science,  but  a  specific  course  of 
preparation  for  the  ministerial  office,  including  the  habit  of  public 
speaking.  Essays  and  theses  on  appropriate  topics  were  written  and 
delivered,  under  the  direction  of  the  tutors :  religious  exercises  were 
carefully  attended  to ;  and  the  students  were  appointed,  in  turns,  to 
speak  or  preach  upon  subjects  selected  by  the  president.  Among  the 
books  first  put  into  Mr.  Hall's  hands  to  prepare  him  for  these  exercises 
was  Gibbon's  Rhetoric,  which  he  read  with  the  utmost  avidity,  and 
often  mentioned  in  after-life,  as  rekindling  the  emotion  excited  by  Mr. 
Robins's  preaching,  improving  his  sensibility  to  the  utility  as  well  as 
beauty  of  fine  writing,  and  creating  an  intense  solicitude  to  acquire  an 
elegant  as  well  as  a  perspicuous  style.  He  was  therefore  more  active 
in  this  department  of  academical  labour  than  many  of  his  compeers. 
Usually,  however,  after  his  written  compositions  had  answered  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  prepared,  he  made  no  effort  to  preserve 
them ;  but  either  carelessly  threw  them  aside,  or  distributed  them 
among  his  associates,  if  they  expressed  any  desire  to  possess  them. 
Some  of  these  early  productions,  therefore,  have  escaped  the  corrosions 
of  time.  The  only  one  which  I  have  been  able  to  obtain  is  an  essay  on 
"  Ambition,"  in  which  there  is  more  of  the  tumultuary  flourish  of  the 
orator,  than  he  would  ever  have  approved  after  he  reached  his  twen- 
tieth year.  Nor  was  it  correct  in  sentiment.  The  sole  species  of  ex- 
cellence recommended  to  be  pursued  was  superiority  of  intellect ;  all 
moral  qualities,  as  well  as  actions  directed  to  the  promotion  of  human 
welfare,  being  entirely  overlooked. 

Indeed,  there  is  reason  to  apprehend  that  at  this  period  of  his  life,  Mr. 
Hall,  notwithstanding  the  correctness  and  excellence  of  his  general 
principles,  and  the  regularity  of  his  devotional  habits,  had  set  too  high 
an  estimate  on  merely  intellectual  attainments,  and  valued  himself,  not 
more  perhaps  than  was  natural  to  youth,  yet  too  much,  on  the  extent  of 
his  mental  possessions.  No  wonder,  then,  that  he  should  experience 
salutary  mortification.  And  thus  it  happened.  He  was  appointed, 
agreeably  to  the  arrangement  already  mentioned,  to  deliver  an  address 
in  the  vestry  of  Broadmead  chapel,  on  1  Tim.  iv.  10.  "  Therefore,  we 
both  labour  and  suffer  reproach,  because  we  trust  in  the  living  God,  who 
is  the  Saviour  of  all  men;  specially  of  those  that  believe."  After  pro- 
ceeding, for  a  short  time,  much  to  the  gratification  of  his  auditory,  he 
suddenly  paused,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  I 
have  lost  all  my  ideas,"  and  sat  down,  his  hands  still  hiding  his  face. 
The  failure,  however,  painful  as  it  was  to  his  tutors,  and  humiliating  to 
himself,  was  such  as  rather  augmented  than  diminished  their  persuasion 
of  what  he  could  accomplish,  if  once  he  acquired  self-possession.  He 
was  therefore  appointed  to  speak  again,  on  the  same  subject,  at  the  same 
place,  the  ensuing  week.  This  second  attempt  was  accompanied  by  a 
second  failure,  still  more  painful  to  witness,  and  still  more  grievous  to 
bear.     He   hastened   from  the  vestry,  and  on  retiring  to   his  room, 


8  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

exclaimed,  "  If  this  does  not  humble  me,  the  devil m«5f  have  me  !"  Such 
were  the  early  efforts  of  him  whose  humility  afterward  became  as  con- 
spicuous as  his  talents,  and  who,  for  nearly  half  a  century,  excited  uni- 
versal attention  and  admiration  by  the  splendour  of  his  pulpit  elo- 
quence. 

Our  student  spent  the  first  summer  vacation  after  his  entering  the 
Bristol  institution  under  the  paternal  roof  at  Arnsby  ;  and,  in  the  course 
of  that  residence  at  home,  accompanied  liis  father  to  some  public  reli- 
gious service  at  Clipstone,  a  village  in  Northamptonshire.  I\Ir.  Hall, 
senior,  and  Mr.  Beddome  of  Bourton,  well  known  by  his  Hymns,  and  his 
truly  valuable  Sermons,*  were  both  engaged  to  preach.  But  the  latter, 
being  much  struck  with  the  appearance,  and  some  of  the  remarks,  of 
the  son  of  his  friend,  was  exceedingly  anxious  that  he  should  preach  in 
the  evening,  and  proposed  to  relinquish  his  own  engagement,  rather 
than  be  disappointed.  To  this  injudicious  proposal,  after  resisting  every 
importunity  for  some  time,  he  at  length  yielded  ;  and  entered  the  pulpit 
to  address  an  auditory  of  ministers,  many  of  whom  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed from  his  infancy  to  regard  with  the  utmost  reverence.  He 
selected  for  his  text  1  .lohn  i.  5, "  God  is  light,  and  in  Him  is  no  darkness 
at  all;"  and,  it  is  affirmed,  treated  this  mysterious  and  awful  subject 
with  such  metaphysical  acumen,  and  drew  from  it  such  an  impressive 
application,  as  excited  the  deepest  interest. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  summer  vacation,  in  1780,  he  again  visited 
Arnsby ;  and  during  the  period  he  then  remained  at  home,  his  father 
became  fully  satisfied  that  his  piety  was  genuine,  as  well  as  that  his 
qualifications  for  the  office  of  a  preacher  were  of  a  high  order.  He 
therefore  expressed  to  many  of  his  friends  his  desire  that  he  should  be 
"set  apart  to  the  sacred  work."  Solicitous  not  to  be  led  aside  from  a 
correct  judgment  by  the  partiality  of  a  father,  he  resolved  that  the 
church  over  which  he  was  pastor  should  judge  of  his  son's  fitness,  and 
recognise  their  conviction  by  a  solemn  act.  The  members  of  the  church, 
after  cautious  and  dehberate  inquiry,  ratified  the  decision  of  the  anxious 
parent,  and  earnestly  and  unanimously  requested  "  that  Robert  Hall, 
jun.  might  be  set  apart  to  public  employ." 

"  Accordingly,"  as  the  following  extract  from  '  the  Church-book' 
testifies,  on  the  13th  of  August,  1780,  "he  was  examined  by  his  father 
before  the  church,  respecting  his  inclination,  motives,  and  end,  in  refer- 
ence to  theministrJ^  and  was  likewise  desired  to  make  a  declaration  of 
his  religious  sentiments.  All  which  being  done  to  the  entire  satisfac- 
tion of  the  chmxli,!  they  therefore  set  him  apart  by  lifting  up  their  right 
hands,  and  by  solemn  prayer. 

*  See  vol.  ii.  p.  45fi,  457. 

T  As  the  words  cJiutcIl,  deacon,  &e.,  when  used  by  consregalional  dissenters,  whether  Baptist  or 
Pedot)a(i(ist,  are  employed  in  senses  lilfTering  from  what  are  current  among  Episcopalians,  1  annex 
this  brief  note  to  prevent  misconception. 

Among  the  orthodox  dissenters  of  the  class  just  specified,  a  distinction  is  always  made  between 
a  church  and  a  congregation.  Acnni^reiratioa  includes  the  whole  of  nn  assembly  collected  in  one 
plate  for  worship,  and  may  therefore  comprehend,  not  merely  real  Christians,  but  nominal  Christians, 
and,  it  may  be,  unbelievers,  who,  from  various  iinotives.  ollcn  attend  public  worship.  The  church. 
is  constituted  of  that  portion  of  these,  who,  after  cautious  investigation,  are  believed,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  judgment  and  charity,  to  be  real  Cliristians.  It  is  regarded  as  the  duty  of  such  to  un  te 
themselves  in  fellowship  with  a  church,  and  lonform  to  its  rules;  and  the  admission  is  by  the  suf- 
frage of  the  members  of  the  respective  c/rarcA  ;  its  connected  congregation  having  no  voice  in  this 
matter.  A  Christian  church  is  regarded  as  a  voluntary  society,  into  which  the  members  are  incor- 
porated under  the  authority  of  Christ,  whose  laws  they  engage  to  obey,  for  the  important  purposes 
of  promoting  the  mutual  improvement  of  those  who  compose  it  by  an  orderly  discharge  of  religious 
duties,  and  of  hrintring  others  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  Every  such  church  of  Christ  is  con- 
sidered as  an  indcpi'udenl  society,  having  a  right  to  enjoy  its  own  scntinicnls,  to  i  hoose  its  owti 
oflicers,  mainta  ii  its  own  discipline,  admit  members,  or  expel  them  on  persisting  in  conduct  un- 
worthy of  the  Cliristiaa  profession ;  without  being  controlled  or  called  to  an  account  by  any  otbers 
whatever. 


SET  APART  FOR  THE  MINISTRY.  g 

"  His  father  then  delivered  a  discourse  to  him,  from  2  Tim.  ii.  1.  Thou, 
therefore,  my  son,  be  strong  in  the  grace  thai  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  Being  thus 
sent  forth,  he  preached  in  the  afternoon  from  2  Thess.  i.  7,  8.  The  Lord 
Jesus  shall  be  revealed  from  heaven,  with  his  mighty  angels,  in  flaming  fire, 
taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God,  and  that  obey  not  the  gospel  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. — May  the  Lord  bless  him,  and  grant  him  great  success !" 

It  is  worthy  of  observation  that,  on  this  solemn  occasion,  as  well  as 
when  he  preached  at  Chpstone,  Mr.  Hah  selected  texts  of  the  class 
most  calculated  to  elicit  those  peculiar  powers  for  which  he  was 
through  life  distinguished. 

In  little  more  than  a  year  after  Mr.  Hall  had  been  thus  publicly 
designated  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  having  pursued  his  studies  at  Bris- 
tol with  great  assiduity  and  corresponding  success,  he  was,  as  already 
hinted,  appointed  to  King's  College,  Aberdeen,  on  Dr.  Ward's  founda- 
tion. In  his  journey  thither,  he  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Joseph  Sten- 
nett,  the  son  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Stennett,  and  another  student,  Mr. 
John  Pownall,  still  livhig.  The  two  former  of  these  had  letters  to  the 
venerable  Dr.  Erskine  of  Edinburgh ;  and  he  again  supplied  them  with 
introductions  to  two  eminent  individuals  at  Aberdeen.  This  appears 
from  a  letter  sent  by  the  doctor,  2d  Nov.  1781,  to  Mr.  Ryland  of  North- 
ampton ;  from  which,  as  it  exhibits  his  view  of  the  state  of  things  at 
Aberdeen  at  that  period,  I  present  a  brief  extract. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  your  letter  by  Messrs.  Stennett  and  Hall  last  week. 
They  appear  to  me  pleasant  young  men,  and  I  should  have  been  happy  to  have 
had  further  opportunities  of  showing  my  regard  to  the  children  of  so  worthy 
parents  than  their  short  stay  here  allowed.  Though  there  are  many  excellent 
teachers  at  Aberdeen,  and  both  they  and  the  ministers  are  remarkable  for  purity 
of  morals,  I  have  some  fears,  from  dilferent  accounts,  that  the  general  strain  of 
preaching  there  is  less  evangelical  than  in  several  pulpits  in  Glasgow  or  Edinburgh 
Principal  Campbell  and  Dr.  Beattie  are,  in  my  opinion,  able  and  worthy  men ; 
and  my  difterence  with  the  first,  as  to  the  American  war  and  the  popish  bill  has 
not  impaired  our  mutual  esteem.  I  wrote  letters  to  introduce  the  young  gentle- 
men to  both." 

Mr.  Hall,  for  many  years  afterward,  used  often  to  speak  of  the 
affectionate  attentions  of  Dr.  Erskine  on  this  occasion ;  and  of  his  own 
feelings  when  on  taking  leave  the  venerable  man  of  God  exhorted  him 
to  self-vigilance,  kissed  him,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  head,  blessing  him,  and 
commending  him  to  the  watchful  care  of  the  great  Head  of  the  church. 

At  the  time  when  he  went  to  Aberdeen,  the  reputation  of  the  two 
colleges,  King's  and  Marischal  College,  was  almost  equally  balanced. 
At  the  latter.  Principal  Campbell  and  Dr.  Beattie,  professor  of  moral 
philosophy,  had  attained  a  high  and  merited  celebrity  both  on  account 
of  their  lectures  and  their  writings :  while  at  King's  College,  the 
divinity  lectures  of  Dr.  Gerai-d  were  much  and  greatly  esteemed;  and 
some  of  the  other  professors  were  men  of  eminence.  Many,  therefore, 
especially  of  the  divinity  students,  attended  the  appropriate  lectur«;s  at 
the  two  colleges.* 

Such  a  church,  as  a  Christian  community,  observes  the  sacrament,  or  "  commun  on  of  the  body 
anil  blood  of  Christ,"  at  stated sea>ons;  themembersof  other  churches  being  admissible,  with  the 
consent  of  the  members  present,  on  any  speiific  occasion. 

The  otlicers  ol'  such  a  church  consist  of  bisho])s  or  presbyters  (i.  e.  pastors)  and  deacons-  The 
latter  are  not,  as  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  .imongother  Episcopalians,  an  order  of  the  clergy, 
but  are  laymr.n.  They  are  chosen  from  amonz  the  members  of  the  church,  and  their  business  is 
'to  see  that  tlie  table  of  the  Lord,  the  table  of  the  pour,  and  the  table  of  the  minister  be  supiilied" 
They  attend  to  the  se  ular  concerns  of  the  churrh,  as  a  body,  and  to  all  that  relates  to  the  conve- 
nience of  the  society,  in  reference  to  their  public  meeting.  In  many  societies,  too,  they  assist  the 
pastor  in  his  general  superintendence. 

*  At  King's  College,  during  Mr.  Hall's  studies  there,  Mr.  John  Leslie  was  professor  of  Greek ; 


10  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Mr.  Hall,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  his  deservedly  prized  friend  the 
late  Dr.  Ryland,  towards  the  end  of  this  first  session  at  college,  speaks 
thus  of  his  studies  and  of  two  of  the  professors  : — 

"  We  entered  the  Greek  class  under  Mr.  Leslie,  who,  though  a  man  of  no  appa- 
rent brightness  of  parts,  is,  notwithstanding,  well  tilted  for  his  office,  being  a  good 
grammarian,  and  attentive  to  the  interests  of  his  pupils.  We  have  been  employed 
in  the  class  in  going  over  more  accurately  the  principles  of  the  Greek  language, 
and  reading  select  passages  in  Xenophon  and  Homer  :  and  I  have  privately  read 
.through  Xenophon's  Anabasis,  and  Memorabilia  of  Socrates,  several  books  of 
Homer,  and  some  of  the  Greek  Testament ;  and  am  now  reading  Longini  de 
Subiimitate  liber,  which  I  hope  to  finish  next  week." 

In  the  same  letter  he  mentions  his  reading  with  Professor  Ogilvie, 
whose  versions  of  the  Latin  poets  he  characterizes  as  "  extremely 
elegant."  He  laments  the  want  of  religious  advantages  in  this  seat  of 
learning,  and  deplores  the  profanity  and  profligacy  of  many  of  the 
students  ;  one  of  whom,  he  assures  liis  friend,  affirmed  that  he  knew  no 
use  even  in  the  word  "  God,"  except  to  give  point  to  an  oath !  To 
make  up  for  this  sad  deficiency,  he  adds,  "  We  have  found  some  agree- 
able acquaintances  in  the  New  Town,  and  among  them  the  sister  of 
Mr.  Cruden,  the  author  of  the  Concordance." 

The  same  letter  contains  evidence  that  he  did  not  confine  his  atten- 
tion solely  to  classical  and  mathematical  studies.  After  expressing  his 
admiration  of  the  devotional  as  well  as  rational  spirit  that  "  lives  and 
breathes"  in  every  page  of  Edwards,  he  adds : — 

"  My  thoughts  are  at  present  too  much  immersed  in  literary  exercises  to  admit 
of  long  or  close  application  of  thought  to  any  thing  else.  I  have,  however,  been 
thinking  a  little  on  the  distinction  of  naliiral  and  moral  ability,  and  have  in  my 
mind  an  objection  upon  which  I  should  be  glad  to  have  your  thoughts.  It  is 
briefly  this  :  If,  accordnig  to  Edwards,  the  will  always  follows  the  last  dictate  of 
the  understanding,  and  if  it  be  determined,  directed,  and  biased  by  the  view  of 
the  understanding,  what  room  then  is  left  for  any  notion  of  moral  ability  as  distinct 
from  natural  ?  or  how  can  there  in  this  case  be  any  depravity  of  the  will,  without 
supposing  a  prior  defect  in  the  understanding]  Since  the  will,  if  it  be  wrong  in 
its  bias,  is  first  led  to  that  bias  by  the  understanding ;  and  where  then  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  moral  inahililij  consisting  with  a  natural  ability  ?  This  I  hope  to  have 
some  conversation  with  you  upon  when  I  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  you.  I 
have  with  me  Edwards  on  the  Will,  and  have  lately  perused  it  often ;  and  the 
more  I  read  it  the  more  I  admire." 

The  lamented  death  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh  has  left  a  blank  which 
none  can  adequately  fill,  witli  regard  to  Mr.  Hall's  character,  habits,  and 
the  development  of  his  intellectual  powers  at  this  period.  Oii  applica- 
tion, however,  to  an  esteemed  friend.  Professor  Paul,  he  has  kindly 
communicated  a  few  particulars,  wliich  I  shall  give  in  his  own  language. 

"  What  I  now  transmit  is  drawn  from  the  college  records,  from  the  recollection 
of  Dr.  Jack,  principal  of  King's  College,  and  formerly  for  three  years  a  class- 
fellow  of  iMr.  Hall,  and  from  my  own  knowledge;  for  I,  also,  was  a  contemporary 
of  Mr.  Hall,  having  commenced  my  first  year's  studies  when  lie  commenced  his 
fourth.  It  api)cars  from  the  album  that  Mr.  Hall  entered  college  in  the  beginning 
of  November,  1781.  His  first  year  was  spent  principally  under  the  tuition  of  Mr. 
Professor  Leslie,  in  the  acquisition  of  the  Greek  language  ;  his  second,  third,  and 


Mr.  Roderick  Macleod,  professor  of  philosophy,  including  mathematics ;  Mr.  W.  Ogilvie,  professor 
of  humanity  ;  Mr.  .lames  Uunbar,  professor  of  moral  philosophy ;  and  Dr.  Ale.xander  Gerard, 
professor  of  divinity.  Thnu;;h  some  of  these  were  highly  distinguislied  men,  Dr.  Gerard  was  most 
known  to  the  world  of  English  literature.  Among  his  works  arc  "  \n  Essay  on  Genius,"  "  An 
Essay  on  Taste,"  two  volumes  of  valuable  Sermons,  and  his  "  Lectures  on  the  Pastoral  Care,"  pub- 
lished la  1799  by  his  son,  Dr.  Gilbert  Gerard. 


AT  ABERDEEN.  11 

fourth  years  under  that  of  Mr.  Professor  Macleod,  when  he  studied  mathematics, 
natural  philosophy,  and  moral  philosophy.  He  took  his  degree  in  arts  (i.  e.  A.M. 
degree)  on  the  30th  of  March,  1785.  Principal  Jack  says  that  he  attended  the 
professor  of  humanity,  Mr.  Ogilvie,  during  the  four  years  he  was  at  college,  both 
for  Latin  and  natural  history  ;  but  as  there  is  no  record  of  the  students  of  the 
humanity  and  natural  history  classes,  this  fact  depends  wholly  on  the  principal's  re- 
collection. I  learn  from  the  same  source  that  Sir  James  Mackintosh  and  Mr.  Hall 
while  at  college  read  a  great  deal  of  Greek  in  private,  and  that  their  reputation 
was  high  among  their  fellow-students  for  their  attainments  in  that  language. 
Principal  Jack  also  bears  testimony  to  Mr.  Hall's  great  success  in  his  mathematical 
and  philosophical  studies,  and  affirms  that  he  was  the  first  scholar  of  his  class,  in 
the  various  branches  of  education  taught  at  college.  During  one  of  the  sessions 
the  principal  was  member  of  a  select  literary  society,  consisting  of  only  eight  or 
ten  students,  of  which  society  Sir  James  and  Mr.  Hall  were  the  distinguished 
ornaments.  None  of  Mr.  Hall's  college  exercises  are  now  to  be  found  in  this 
place  ;  but  my  impressions  correspond  with  those  of  the  principal,  that  his  acquire- 
ments were  of  the  very  first  order ;  and  as  Sir  James  had  left  college  before  I 
entered,  having  received  his  A.M.  degree  30th  March,  1784,  there  was  no  one  at 
college  in  my  time  who  could  be  at  all  put  in  competition  with  Mr.  Hall.  But  it 
was  not  as  a  scholar  alone  that  Mr.  Hall's  reputation  was  great  at  college.  He 
was  considered  by  all  the  students  as  a  model  of  correct  and  regular  deportment, 
of  religious  and  moral  habits,  of  friendly  and  benevolent  affections." 

To  this  concise  summary  I  subjoin  the  few  particulars  which  1 
gathered  from  Sir  James  Mackintosh  himself. 

When  these  two  eminent  men  first  became  acquainted,  Sir  James  was 
in  his  eighteenth  year,  Mr.  Hall  about  a  year  older.  Sir  James  de- 
scribed Mr.  Hall  as  attracting  notice  by  a  most  ingenuous  and  intelligent 
countenance,  by  the  liveliness  of  his  manner,  and  by  such  indications  of 
mental  activity  as  could  not  be  misinterpreted.  His  appearance  was 
that  of  health,  yet  not  of  robust  health ;  and  he  often  suffered  from 
paroxysms  of  pain,  during  which  he  would  roll  about  on  the  carpet  in 
the  utmost  agony  ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  pain  subsided  than  he  would 
resume  his  part  in  conversation  with  as  much  cheerfulness  and  vivacity 
as  before  he  had  been  thus  interrupted.  Sir  James  said  he  became 
attached  to  Mr.  Hall,  "  because  he  could  not  help  it."  There  wanted 
many  of  the  supposed  constituents  of  friendship.  Their  tastes  at  the 
commencement  of  their  intercourse  were  widely  different ;  and  upon 
most  of  the  important  topics  of  inquiry  there  was  no  congeniality  of 
sentiment:  yet  notwithstanding  this,  the  substratum  of  their  minds 
seemed  of  the  same  cast,  and  upon  this  Sir  James  thought  the  edifice 
of  their  mutual  regard  first  rested.  Yet  he  ere  long  became  fascinated 
by  his  brilliancy  and  acumen,  in  love  with  his  cordiality  and  ardour, 
and  "awe-struck"  (I  think  that  was  the  term  employed)  by  the  trans- 
parency of  his  conduct  and  the  purity  of  his  principles.  They  read 
together ;  they  sat  together  at  lecture,  if  possible ;  they  walked  together. 
In  their  joint  studies  they  read  much  of  Xenophon  and  Herodotus,  and 
more  of  Plato ;  and  so  well  was  all  this  known,  exciting  admiration  in 
some,  in  others  envy,  that  it  was  not  uimsual  as  they  went  along  for 
their  class-fellows  to  point  at  them  and  say,  "  There  go  Plato  and  Hero- 
dotus.'''' But  the  arena  in  which  they  met  most  frequently  was  that  of 
morals  and  metaphysics ;  furnishing  topics  of  incessant  disputation. 
After  having  sharpened  their  weapons  by  reading,  they  often  repaired 
to  the  spacious  sands  upon  the  seashore,  and  still  more  frequently  to 
the  picturesque  scenery  on  the  banks  of  the  Don,  above  the  Old  Town, 
to  discuss  with  eagerness  the  various  subjects  to  which  their  attention 
had  been  directed.  There  was  scarcely  an  important  position  in  Ber- 
keley's Minute  Philosopher,  in  Butler's  Analogy,  or  in  Edwards  on  the 


12  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Will,  over  which  they  had  not  thus  debated  with  the  utmost  intensity. 
Night  after  night,  nay,  month  after  month,  for  two  sessions,  they  met 
only  to  study  or  to  dispute ;  yet  no  unkindly  feeling  ensued.  The  pro- 
cess seemed  rather  like  blows  in  that  of  welding  iron  to  knit  them 
closer  together.  Sir  James  said,  that  his  companion  as  well  as  himself 
often  contended  for  victory,  yet  never,  so  far  as  he  could  then  judge, 
did  either  make  a  voluntary  sacrifice  of  truth,  or  stoop  to  draw  to  and  fro 
the  serraUyoiiaxiai,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with  ordinary  controvertists. 
From  these  discussions,  and  from  subsequent  meditation  upon  them, 
Sir  James  learned  more  as  to  principles  (such  at  least  he  assured  me  was 
his  deliberate  conviction)  than  from  all  the  books  he  ever  read.  On  the 
other  hand,  Mr.  Hall  through  life  reiterated  his  persuasion,  that  his 
friend  possessed  an  intellect  more  analogous  to  that  of  Bacon  than  any 
person  of  modern  times ;  and  that  if  he  had  devoted  his  powerful  under- 
standing to  metaphysics,  instead  of  law  and  politics,  he  would  have 
thrown  an  unusual  light  upon  that  intricate  but  valuable  region  of 
inquiry.  Such  was  the  cordial,  reciprocal  testimony  of  these  two  dis- 
tinguished men.  And  in  many  respects — latterly  1  hope  and  believe 
in  all  the  most  essential — it  might  be  truly  said  of  both  "  as  face  an- 
swereth  to  face  in  a  glass,  so  does  the  heart  of  a  man  to  his  friend." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  first  of  the  series  of  letters  inserted  in  this 
volume,*  that,  shortly  after  Mr.  Hall's  return  to  Aberdeen  in  No- 
vember, 1783,  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  church  at  Broadmead 
to  associate  himself  with  Dr.  Caleb  Evans,  as  the  assistant  pastor  ;  an 
invitation  which  he  accepted  with  nuich  doubt  and  diffidence.  After 
some  correspondence  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Hall  should  reside  at 
Bristol,  in  the  interval  (of  nearly  six  months)  between  the  college  ses- 
sions of  1784  and  1785,  and  then  return  to  Aberdeen  to  complete  his 
course.  In  this  important  session,  from  the  beginning  of  November, 
1784,  to  May,  1785,  he  seems  to  have  devoted  himself  most  sedulously 
to  his  studies ;  especially  the  Greek  language,  with  moral  and  intel- 
lectual philosophy,  and  those  other  departments  of  inquiry  which  are 
most  intimately  related  to  theology.  During  the  session,  too,  he 
attended  Dr.  Campbell's  lectures  at  ftlarischal  College,  and  frequently 
profited  by  the  doctor's  expository  discourses,  delivered  once  each 
fortnight ;  while  he  generally  attended  public  worship  at  the  church 
where  Mr.  Abercromby  and  Mr.  Peters,  both  regarded  as  holding  cor- 
rect sentiments,  were  the  alternate  preachers.  He  had  now  lost  his 
chosen  companion,  the  sharpener  of  his  faculties  by  animated  yet 
friendly  debate  ;  and  he  sought  for  no  substitute  in  society,  but  resolved 
to  turn  the  deprivation  into  a  benefit,  by  a  more  arduous  application  to 
his  literary  pursuits,  and  by  cultivating  habits  of  meditation.  "  I  now,'' 
said  he,  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  "find  retirement  prodigiously  sweet, 
and  here  I  am  entirely  uninterrupted  and  left  to  my  own  thoughts." 
In  this  disposition  he  commenced  and  concluded  the  session. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Hall  had  thus  completed  his  academical  course,  his 
mental  powers,  originally  strong,  had  attained  an  extraordinary  vigour ; 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  Hebrew  language,  of  which  he  then  knew 
nothing,  he  had  become  rich  in  literary,  intellectual,  and  biblical  acqui- 
sition. On  resuming  his  labours  at  Broadmead,  in  conjunction  with 
Dr.  Evans,  his  preaching  excited  an  unusual  attention,  the  place  of  wor- 
ship was  often  crowded  to  excess,  and  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  in  Bristol,  including  severiil  clergymen,  were  among  his  occasional 
auditors. 

»  See  p.  207. 


SETTLED  AT  BRISTOL.  13 

This  popularity  not  only  continued,  but  increased,  until  he  removed 
to  another  sphere  of  action.  The  brilliancy  and  force  of  his  eloquence 
were  universally  acknowledged ;  while,  in  private  life,  his  instructive 
and  fascinating  conversation  drew  equal  admiration.  Yet  it  ought  not 
to  be  concealed  (for  I  simply  announce  his  own  deliberate  conviction, 
frequently  expressed  in  after-life)  that  at  this  time  he  was  very  inade- 
quately qualified  for  the  duties  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  He  had,  it 
is  true,  firmly  embraced  and  cordially  relied  upon  those  fundamental 
truths  which  ;ire  comprehended  in  the  declaration, — "  He  that  cometh 
unto  God  must  believe  that  He  js,  and  that  He  is  the  reu-ardcr  of  them 
that  diligently  seek  him  ;"  and  he  often  expatiated,  with  much  origin- 
ality and  beauty,  upon  the  Divine  attributes,  and  constantly  exhorted 
men  to  adhere  closely  to  the  path  of  duty ;  yet,  not  often  from  the 
higher,  namely,  the  evangelical  motives,  to  pure,  and  benevolent,  and 
holy  conduct.  His  knowledge  of  Christianity,  as  a  system  of  restora- 
tion and  reconciliation,  was  comparatively  defective  and  obscure  ;  and 
he  felt  but  Uttle  alive  to  those  peculiarities  of  the  new  dispensation, 
upon  which,  in  maturer  life,  he  loved  to  dwell.  In  his  preaching  he 
dealt  too  much  in  generalities,  or  enlarged  upon  topics  which,  though 
in  a  certain  sense  noble  and  inspiring,  and  thus  calculated  to  elevate 
the  mind,  did  not  immediately  flow  from  the  great  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion, which  it  was  his  especial  office  to  disclose.  The  extent  of  God's 
matchless  love  and  mercy — the  depth  of  the  mystery  of  his  designs — 
the  inexhaustible  treasury  of  his  blessings  and  graces — the  wonderful 
benefits  flowing  from  the  incarnation,  humiliation,  and  sacrifice  of  the 
Son  of  God — the  delightful  privileges  of  the  saints — were  themes  to 
which  he  recurred  far  less  frequently  than  in  later  days ;  and  he  per- 
suaded himself  that  this  was  not  very  wrong,  because  his  colleague, 
Dr.  Evans,  who  had  "  the  care  of  the  church,"  adverted  so  incessantly 
to  the  doctrines  of  our  Lord's  Divinity  and  atonement,  of  spiritual  influ- 
ence and  regeneration,  as  to  leave  room  for  him  to  explore  other  regions 
of  instruction  and  interest. 

It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Hall,  from  his  habit  of  self-depreciation,  may 
have  a  little  overcharged  this  picture :  yet  the  notes  of  several  of  his 
sermons,  preached  from  1785  to  1789,  taken  down  by  one  of  the  con- 
gregation, and  which  are  now  in  my  possession,  confirm,  to  a  consider- 
able extent,  the  existence  of  the  serious  defect  which  he  subsequently 
so  much  deplored. 

Considering  his  early  age,  twenty-one,  it  was  manifestly  unfavour- 
able to  the  correct  development  of  his  character  as  a  preacher,  that  in 
August,  1785,  only  three  months  after  his  quitting  Aberdeen,  he  was 
appointed  classical  tutor  in  the  Bristol  Academy,  on  the  resignation  of 
Mr.  Newton.  That  additional  appointment  he  held  for  more  than  five 
years,  and  discharged  its  duties  with  marked  zeal  and  activity,  and  with 
commensurate  success.  At  this  period  of  his  life  he  was  celebrated 
as  a  satirist,  and  would  overwhelm  such  of  his  associates  as  tempted 
him  to  the  use  of  those  formidable  weapons  with  wit  and  raillery,  not 
always  playful.  Aware,  however,  that  this  propensity  was  calcu- 
lated to  render  him  unamiable,  and  to  give  permanent  pain  to  others 
(a  result  which  the  generosity  of  his  disposition  made  him  anxious  to 
avoid),  he  endeavoured  to  impose  a  restraint  upon  himself,  by  writing 
the  essay  on  the  "  Character  of  Cleander  ;"*  in  which  he  exposes,  with 
just  severity,  that  species  of  sarcasm  to  which  he  believed  himself  most 
prone ;  and  thus,  by  its  publication,  gave  to  others  the  opportunity, 
when  he  slid  into  this  practice,  of  reproving  him  in  his  own  language. 

*  See  vol.  U  p.  343. 


14  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

It  seems  to  have  been  remarkably,  and  doubtless  mercifully,  over- 
ruled, that  during  this  period  of  Mr.  Hall's  history,  though  his  more 
judicious  and  wise  friends  were  often  grieved  by  the  free  and  daring 
speculations  which  he  advanced  in  private,  he  never  promulgated  direct 
and  positive  error  from  the  pulpit.  And  thus  they  who  were  filled  with 
apprehension  on  account  of  sallies  in  conversation  would  listen  with 
delight  to  his  public  addresses.  This  will  be  evinced  by  a  few  extracts 
from  the  journals  of  two  of  his  constant  friends. 

Mr.  Fuller  writes,  "  1784,  May  7.  Heard  Mr.  Robert  Hall,  jun.,  from  'He  that 
increaseth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow.'  Felt  very  solemn  in  hearing  some 
parts. — The  Lord  keep  that  young  man  !" 

Again,  "  1785,  June  14.  Taken  up  with  the  company  of  Mr.  Robert  Hall,  jun.; 
feel  much  pain  for  him.  The  Lord,  in  mercy  to  him  and  his  churches  in  this 
country,  keep  him  in  the  path  of  truth  and  righteousness." 

In  like  manner.  Dr.  Ryland  :  "June  8,  1785.  Robert  Hall,  jun.,  preached 
wonderfully  from  Rom.  viii.  18,  '  For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  the  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  to  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us.'  I 
admire  many  things  in  this  young  man  exceedingly,  though  there  are  others 
that  make  me  fear  for  him.  0  that  the  Lord  may  keep  him  humble,  and  make 
him  prudent  !" 

Again,  "  June  15.  Rode  to  Clipstone  to  attend  the  ministers'  meeting.  R.  Hall, 
jun.,  preached  a  glorious  sermon,  on  the  immutability  of  God,  from  James  i.  17, 
'  The  Father  of  lights,  with  whom  is  no  variableness,  nor  shadow  of  turning.'  " 

Again,  "  1786,  June  13.  Sent  ofl' a  letter  to  Robert  Hall,  jun.,  which  I  wrote 
chiefly  in  answer  to  one  of  his  some  months  ago,  wherein  he  replied  to  mine  con- 
cerning some  disagreeable  reports  from  Birmingham  :  added  some  new  hints 
respecting  another  matter  lately  reported.  O  that  God  may  keep  that  young  man 
in  the  way  of  truth  and  holiness." 

It  hence  appears,  that  Dr.  Ryland,  who  was  nearly  tw^elve  years  older 
than  Mr.  Hall,  and  had  known  him  from  his  childhood,  did  not  rest  satis- 
fied with  silent  lamentations.  This  excellent  man,  fearing  that  his 
young  friend  was  about  to  precipitate  himself  into  a  very  dangerous 
course,  sought  by  kind  but  strong  expostulation  to  rescue  him  from  the 
peril ;  and  thus  addressed  him  : — 

"  My  very  dear  Friend, 

"  The  fullest  consciousness  that  I  have  a  right  to  call  you  so,  as  really  feeling 
an  earnest  and  tender  concern  for  your  welfare,  and  the  recollection  that  you 
apparently  allowed  it  when  I  last  saw  you,  encourages  me  to  write  to  you  ;  though 
I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  I  am  going  to  write  to  you  in  the  same  strain 
of  complaint  and  censure  which  I  have  been  constrained  to  use  before.  And 
indeed  my  fears  and  grief  were  never  excited  to  such  a  degree  concerning  you  as 
they  now  arc.  I  still  hope,  however,  you  have  much  love  to  God  ;  and  I  trust  so 
much  conviction  of  my  sincere  friendship,  that  you  will  not  say  of  me  as  one  said 
of  Micaiah,  '  I  hate  him,  for  he  is  always  saying  evil  of  me.'  Indeed,  the  things 
that  grieve  me  I  shall  industriously  conceal  from  everybody  as  long  as  I  can  ;  but 
I  fear  they  will  spread  fast  enough  :  for  if  you  openly  utter  all  your  mind,  there 
are  not  many  who  will  mourn  in  secret  over  the  report. 

"  It  gave  me  extreme  uneasiness  to  hear,  this  week,  of  the  general  disgust  you 
had  given  to  your  former  friends  at  Birmingham,  on  your  last  visit.  Verily  I  wish 
that  neither  you,  nor  I,  nor  others  may  fight  for  the  truth  with  infernal  weapons. 
I  would  wish  to  feel  in  my  inmost  soul  the  trnderest  pity  for  the  most  erroneous 
men  in  the  world,  and  to  show  all  proper  respect  to  men  of  science,  and  men  who 
are  regular  in  their  outward  conduct.  Nor  should  I  at  all  approve  of  violent  or 
harsh  language,  or  like  to  speak  my  opinion  of  the  state  of  individuals.  But  at 
the  same  time,  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  lusts  of  the  7nind  may  as  effectually 
ruin  a  man  as  '  the  lusts  of  the  JhshJ'  And  I  must  get  a  good  way  towards 
Socinianism  myself  before  I  have  any  strong  hope  that  a  Socinian,  living  and  dying 


AT  BRISTOL.  15 

such,  will  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  When  the  merciful  Jesus  declared,  '  He  that 
beiieveth  shall  be  saved,'  &c.,  I  cannot  believe  that  he  meant  simply,  that  he  shall 
be  saved  who  believes  that  Jesus  xms  not  an  impostor,  and  who  believes  the  doc- 
trine of  the  resurrection.  But  these  two  articles  are,  I  believe,  the  whole  of  Dr. 
Priestley's  Christianity,  and  if  once  I  were  to  think  this  Christianity  enough  to 
carry  a  man  to  heaven',  I  should  not,  I  fear,  be  very  strenuous  in  my  endeavours  to 
convince  men  of  the  danger  of  self-righteousness,  and  the  necessity  of  a  reliance 
on  the  atonement.  Oh !  my  dear  friend,  can  I  conceive  that  your  mind  was 
deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  divine  purity  and  the  justice  of  God's  law, 
when  you  could  utter  so  vain  and  vile  a  speech  as  this  ?" 

The  doctor  then  cites  the  language  imputed  to  Mr.  Hall.  It  implied, 
that  if  he  were  the  Judge  of  all,  he  could  not  condemn  Dr.  Priestley. 
After  animadverting  strongly  upon  the  phrase  which  he  understood  was 
actually  employed,  he  proceeds  thus  : — 

"  It  is,  I  am  sure,  not  malevolence,  but  sincere  love,  that  makes  me  jealous  of 
you.  May  the  Lord  keep  you.  I  wish  you  would  look  over  afresh  the  Epistle  to 
the  Galatians,  and  examine  whether  your  charity  is  as  chaste  as  Paul's.  I  allude 
to  a  proverb  you  have  doubtless  heard — '  Charity  is  an  angel  while  she  rejoiceth 
in  the  truth,  a  harlot  when  she  rejoiceth  in  iniquity  ;'  embracing  those  whom  she 
should  rather  pity  and  weep  over. 

"Study  to  enter  into  the  very  spirit  of  Paul's  discourse,  1  Cor.  i.  18-31,  or 
Gal.  ii.  15-21  ;  and  if  this  is  consistent  with  supposing  it  would  be  unfair  for 
God  to  punish  any  man  for  rejecting  the  gospel,  who  understood  chymistry  and 
philosophy,  why,  then  retain  your  favourable  opinion  of  the  safety  of  Socinians. 

"  Receive  this  as  a  proof  of  the  affection  with  which  I  am 

"Your  faithful  friend, 

"J.  Ryland." 

Many  high-spirited  young  men,  we  can  readily  imagine,  would  have 
treated  such  a  letter  as  this  with  contempt ;  while  others  would  have 
replied  to  it  in  a  lofty  tone  of  surprise  and  indignation.  But  Dr.  Ry- 
laud's  young  friend,  notwithstanding  the  errors  into  wliich  his  impetu- 
osity had  hurried  him,  had  too  much  generosity  to  regard  as  insulting 
what  he  knew  was  dictated  by  affection ;  and  therefore,  anxious  to 
show  that  he  could  bear  reproof,  and  be  thankful  for  it,  he  promptly 
replied : 

"My  dear  Friend, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letter,  and  think  it  of  so  much  importance  as  to 
deserve  an  immediate  answer.  Accordingly,  without  the  least  delay,  I  have  set 
myself  to  reply  to  it.  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  your  friendly  expostula- 
tion, because  I  know  it  is  the  effusion  of  a  pious  and  benevolent  heart  that  wishes 
me  well.  With  respect  to  the  conversation  at  Birmmgham,  to  which  you  allude, 
I  shall  conceal  nothing." 

He  then,  at  the  same  time  that  he  denies  the  precise  language  that 
was  imputed  to  him,  states  what  he  did  really  say ;  and  aims  to  justify 
the  sentiment  which  he  had  maintained :  disclaiming,  however,  any  ap- 
proximation to  Socinian  doctrine. 

"  You  seem  to  suspect  I  am  far  gone  in  Socinianism ;  but  in  this,  my  dear 
friend,  give  me  leave  to  say,  you  are  utterly  mistaken.  Since  I  first  began  to 
reflect,  I  do  not  recollect  a  time  when  I  was  less  inclined  to  Socinianism  than  at 
present.  I  can  truly  say,  it  would  remove  from  me  all  my  salvation  and  all  my 
desire." 

Again  reverting  to  the  expression  employed,  he  adds, 

"  Allowing  it  to  be  improper,  or  too  strong,  I  can  only  say,  it  does  not  belong 

to  all  to   speak  equally  temperately  ;  that  the  crime  of  expression  can  only  be 

judged  from  the  feelings,  and  that  I  am  certain  I  did  not  utter  it  with  any  lightness 

of  heart,  but  with  deep  feelings  of  earnestness  and  sincerity.     Your  charge  of 


16  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

imprudence  I  cordially  admit;  and  now  see,  with  more  clearness  than  I  formerly 
did,  that  the  imprudent  should  never  come  into  company  vvith  the  malicious. 

"  I  had  more  to  say  ;  but  have  no  room.  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  your  letter, 
and  shall  always  be  extremely  grateful  for  your  correspondence,  your  good  wishes, 
and  your  prayers. 

"  Believe  me,  as  ever,  affectionately  yours, 

"  R.  Hall,  junior." 
These  letters  would  not  have  been  inserted  after  the  lapse  of  fifty 
years,  but  for  the  salutary  lesson  which  they  supply.  If  Christian 
friendship  always  manifested  itself  in  such  fidelity  as  is  here  evinced, 
and  uniformly  experienced  so  kind  and  ingenuous  a  reception,  what  a 
different  aspect,  in  a  few  years,  would  the  Christian  world  assume  ! 

When  Mr.  Hall  was  about  twenty-three  years  of  age,  he  had  an  op- 
portunity of  hearing  Mr.  Robinson,  his  predecessor  at  Cambridge, 
preach  ;  and  was  so  fascinated  with  his  manner  as  to  resolve  to  imitate 
it.  But,  after  a  few  trials,  he  relinquished  the  attempt.  The  circum- 
stance being  afterward  alluded  to,  he  observed,  "Why,  sir,  I  was  too 
proud  to  remain  an  imitator.  After  my  second  trial,  as  I  was  walking 
home,  I  heard  one  of  the  congregation  say  to  another,  '  Really,  Mr. 
Hall  did  remind  us  of  Mr.  Robinson !'  That,  sir,  was  a  knock-down 
blow  to  my  vanity ;  and  I  at  once  resolved  that  if  ever  I  did  acquire 
reputation,  it  should  be  my  own  reputation,  belonging  to  my  own  char- 
acter, and  not  be  that  of  a  likeness.  Besides,  sir,*  if  I  had  not  been  a 
foolish  young  man,  I  should  liave  seen  how  ridiculous  it  was  to  imitate 
such  a  preacher  as  Mr.  Robinson.  He  had  a  musical  voice,  and  was 
master  of  all  its  intonations  ;  he  had  wonderful  self-possession,  and 
could  say  what  he  pleased,  ichen  he  pleased,  and  hoio  he  pleased  ;  while 
my  voice  and  manner  were  naturally  bad  ;  and  far  from  having  self-com- 
mand, I  never  entered  the  pulpit  without  omitting  to  say  something  that 
I  wished  to  say,  and  sa3dng  something  that  I  wished  unsaid :  and  besides 
all  this,  I  ought  to  have  known  that  ibr  me  to  speak  slow  was  ruin.'''' 
"  Why  so  1" — "I  wonder  that  you,  a  student  of  philosophy,  should  ask  such 
a  question.  You  know,  sir,  that  force,  or  momentum,  is  conjointly  as 
the  body  and  velocity ;  therefore,  as  my  voice  is  feeble,  what  is  wanted 
in  body  must  be  made  up  in  velocity,  or  there  will  not  be,  cannot  be  any 
impression." 

This  remark,  though  thrown  off  hastily,  in  unreserved  conversation, 
presents  the  theory  of  one  important  cause  of  the  success  of  his  rapid 
eloquence. 

Shortly  after  this,  Mr.  Hall  was,  for  the  first  time,  in  Mr.  Robinson's 
society ;  1  believe  in  London.  Mr.  Robinson  was  affluent  in  flatteries 
for  those  who  worsliipped  him,  Avhile  Mr.  Hall  neither  courted  flattery 
nor  scattered  its  incense  upon  others.  In  speaking  of  the  Socinian 
controversy,  the  elder  indulged  in  sarcasm  upon  "juvenile  defenders  of 
the  faith,"  and  made  various  efforts  to  "  set  tlie  young  man  down,"  which 
tempted  Mr.  Hall  to  reply  that  "  if  he  ever  rode  into  the  field  of  public 
controversy,  lie  should  not  borrow  Dr.  Abbadie's  boots.''''  This  enig- 
matical retortf  Mr.  Robinson  understood,  and  probably ./W/  more  than 
Mr.  Hall  had  anticipated ;  for  he  had  about  that  time  quitted  the  field, 
put  off  "  the  boots,"  and  passed  to  the  verge  of  Socinianism.  In  the 
course  of  some  discussions  that  followed,  Mr.  Hall,  as  most  of  those 

*  Mr.  Hall  very  frequently  repeated  the  word  sir  in  his  conversation,  esiiecially  if  lie  became 
animated. 

t  The  allusion  was  to  the  defence  of  the  Divinity  of  our  Lor<!,  published  in  French,  liy  Dr.  .\b- 
badie,in  his  "  Viiuiiciuion  of  Ihc  Truth  of  tlie  Christian  Religion  ;"  u  work  from  whiili  i\Ir.  Uobin- 
8on  was  thought  to  have  borrowed  many  of  ihe  arguments  in  tiis  "  Plea  for  the  Divinity,"  &c. 
without  acknowledgment, 


AT  BRISTOL.  |7 

who  were  present  thought,  completely  exposed  the  dangerous  sophis- 
try by  which  Mr.  Robinson  endeavoured  to  explain  away  some  vei-y  mo- 
mentous truths.  Mr.  Robinson,  perceiving  that  the  stream  of  opinion 
fell  in  with  the  arguments  of  his  young  opponent,  and  vexed  at  being 
thus  foiled,  lost  his  usual  placidity  and  courtesy,  and  suddenly  changed 
the  topic  of  conversation,  saying,  "  The  company  may  be  much  better 
employed  than  by  listening  to  a  raw  school-boy,  whose  head  is  crammed 
with  Scotch  metaphysics."  Nothing  but  a  consciousness  that  the 
"  raw  school-boy"  had  defeated  him  would  have  thus  thrown  him  off 
his  guard. 

In  1788,  Mr.  Hall,  weary  of  the  solitude  to  which  he  was  often  sub- 
jected, as  a  mere  lodger,  and  anticipating  marriage  in  the  course  of  a 
few  months  (an  anticipation,  however,  which  was  not  realized),  hired 
a  house ;  his  sister  Mary,  afterward  Mrs.  James,  kindly  consenting  to 
superintend  his  domestic  concerns.  From  a  letter  which  he  then 
wrote  to  his  father  I  extract  a  few  passages. 

"  Feb.  lOtk,  1788. 

"  We  have  a  great  deal  of  talk  here  about  the  slave-trade  ;  as  I  understand, 
from  your  letter,  you  have  had  too.  A  petition  has  been  sent  from  hence  to  par- 
liament for  the  abolishing  it ;  and  a  committee  is  formed  to  co-operate  w^ith  that  in 
London,  in  any  measures  that  may  be  taken  to  promote  their  purpose.  At  Bristol 
much  opposition  is  made  by  the  merchants  and  their  dependants,  who  are  many, 
perhaps  most  of  them,  engaged  in  it.  Our  petition  was  signed  by  eight  hundred, 
or  upwards  ;  which,  considering  that  no  application  has  been  made  to  any,  we  think 
a  great  number.  Many  things  have  been  written  in  the  papers  on  both  sides  : 
some  pieces  I  have  written  myself,  under  the  signature  Britannicus,*  which  I 
purpose  to  get  printed  in  a  few  pamphlets,  and  shall  send  one  of  them  to  you. 
The  injustice  and  inhumanity  of  the  trade  are  glaring,  and  upon  this  ground  I 
mainly  proceed :  upon  the  policy  of  abolishing  it  I  treat  lightly,  because  I  am 
dubious  about  it ;  nor  can  it  be  of  great  consequence  to  the  question  in  hand  ;  for, 
if  it  be  proved  cruel  and  unjust,  it  is  impious  to  defend  it 

"  I  am  afraid  the  abolition  will  not  take  place  speedily,  if  at  all.     The  trad- 
ing and  mercantile  interest  will  make  great  outcry  ;  the  scheme  will  be  thought 
chimerical,  and  after  producing  a  few  warm  speeches,  will,  I  fear,  die  away." 
**«•****♦ 

"  My  own  temper,  I  know,  needs  some  correction,  and  it  will  be  my  daily  en- 
deavour to  mend  it  :  it  wants  gentleness.     Mr.  M has  done  me  much  ffood 

by  convincing  me,  from  his  own  example,  to  what  perfection  a  temper  naturally 
keen  and  lofty  may  be  carried." 

*  *  **  **«■«■ 

"  So  far,  I  am  happy  that  my  duty  and  my  gratification  lie  in  the  same  direc- 
tion :  so  that  every  step  I  take  towards  improvement  may  be  a  step  towards  real 
pleasure.  One  inconvenience,  indeed,  I  labour  under  with  respect  to  my  temper, 
by  being  connected  with  my  sister  ;  and  that  is,  she  never  tries  it." 

A  serious  trial  of  another  kind  now,  however,  awaited  Mr.  Hall — a 
painful  misunderstanding  between  him  and  his  friend  and  colleague  Dr. 
Evans.  It  continued  not  only  to  disturb  the  minds  of  both,  but,  as 
might  be  expected,  to  create  partisans  among  their  respective  friends, 
and  indeed  to  endanger  the  peace  of  the  church  at  Broadmead,  for 
more  than  two  years.  I  have  read  various  written  papers,  and  some 
pamphlets,  which  relate  to  this  painful  affair ;  and  cannot  but  conclude 
that,  like  many  others,  it  originated  in  such  trifling  misconceptions  as, 
in  more  felicitous  circumstances,  neither  party  would  have  suffered  to 
disturb  his  thoughts  for  an  hour.  A  few  hasty  expressions,  retorted  by 
others  both  hasty  and  strong,  tempted  the  doctor  and  his  friends  to 

*  These  I  have  not  been  able  to  procure.     It  would  be  curious  to  compare  them  with  bia  more 
mature  sentiments  on  the  subject,  so  admirably  exhibited  in  vol.  ti.  p.  159-168. 
Vol.  III.— 2 


18  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

accuse  Mr.  Hall  of  ingratitude,  and  a  want  of  deference  to  his  superior  irt 
age  and  station;  he,  in  his  turn,  repelled  the  accusation,  in  language  too 
natural  to  a  young  man  glowing  with  a  lofty  spirit  of  independence ; 
and  thus,  new  charges  and  fresh  recriminations  arose.  The  interposition 
of  friends  availed  but  little  ;  for  tlieir  unhallowed  passions  became  ignited 
too.  After  many  months  spent  in  this  unseemly  strife,  a  meeting 
between  the  belligerent  parties  was  held,  in  the  presence  of  two  friends 
of  each,  at  the  Mansion  House,  the  Mayor  of  Bristol  being  one  of  the 
persons  chosen  by  Dr.  Evans.  No  beneficial  effects  resulted  from  this 
meeting;  the  individuals,  who  hoped  by  their  interposition  to  ensure  the 
restoration  of  amity,  having  long  before  ceased  to  be  impartial  judges 
in  tlie  affair.  The  parties  on  both  sides,  who  were  convened  on  this 
occasion,  published  their  respective  statements  ;  from  which  it  appears 
that  one  of  them  thought  Mr.  Hall  justifiable,  and  censured  Dr.  Evans; 
while  the  other  approved  of  the  doctor's  conduct,  and  condemned  that 
of  Mr.  Hall. 

It  will  not,  then,  be  expected  that  I  should  draw  from  the  obscurity 
which  time  has  cast  over  them  more  particulars  relating  to  this  unhappy 
collision.  Nor,  indeed,  should  1  have  adverted  to  it,  had  it  not  operated 
strongly  in  preparing  Mr.  Hall  for  his  removal  from  Bristol.  Whatever 
regret  it  might  occasion  him,  on  subsequent  meditation  it  excited  no 
self-reproach,  nor  left  any  malevolent  feeling.  On  the  decease  of  Dr. 
Evans,  which  took  place  in  1791,  his  former  colleague  prepared  an 
inscription  for  his  monument ;  and  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  his 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Isaac  James,  in  reply  to  that  which  announced  the 
doctor's  death. 

"  Dear   Brotheu,  "  Ca?nhridge,  Ai,g.  12,  1791. 

"  The  contents  of  your  letter  received  this  day  have  affected  me  more  than 
almost  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  met  with  in  my  life.  It  is  in  all  points  of  view 
a  most  solemn  event ;  but,  from  obviou.s  circumstances,  to  mc  it  cannot  fail  of  being^ 
peculiarly  so.  It  is  truly  affecting  to  recollect  the  friendship  that  so  long  sub- 
sisted between  us,  and  that  it  should  end  so  unhappily  in  a  breach  that  admits  of 
no  repair,  no  remedy  !  Yet,  though  I  feel  most  pun^ently  upon  this  occasion, 
I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  join  with  you  in  declaring  that  my  conscience  is  not 
loaded  with  guilt.  Abating  too  much  of  an  unhappy  violence,  I  have  the  mens 
conscia  recti.  Were  the  circumstances  to  occur  again,  a  breach  would,  as  before, 
be  inevitable.  But  though,  in  justice  to  myself,  I  say  thus  much,  there  is  no  one 
more  disposed  to  lament  the  deceased  than  myself,  or  w  ho  has  a  truer  sensiliility  of 
the  real  virtues  of  his  character.  I  have  written  to  Mr.  Higgs,  and  therefore  I 
leed  say  the  less  to  you  upon  these  melancholy  topics.  The  chief  purpose, 
indeed,  of  my  troubling  you  at  present  is  to  request  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  give 
me  the  earliest  and  most  particular  account  of  every  thing  that  passes  at  his 
funeral  ;  the  persons  present,  the  sermon,  the  impression  of  the  event,  deep  no 
doui)t  and  awful,  the  whole  state  of  things  at  Bristol,  their  future  prospects  and 
intentions,  every  thing  relating  to  these  matters  that  you  know.  The  situation  of 
the  family  and  the  church,  though  I  doubt  not  I  am  the  object  of  their  joint  abhor- 
rence, I  most  sincerely  compassionate.  May  God  guide  and  comfort  them.  I 
think  you  and  all  my  friends  ought  now  to  bury  all  that  is  past,  and  renew  a  con- 
nexion with  the  church,  if  their  temper  will  permit  you.  My  friends  will  most 
ohUge  mc  by  carrying  it  respectfully  to  the  doctor's  family  and  memory.  '  Anger 
may  glance  into  the  bosom  of  a  wise  man,  but  it  rests  only  in  the  bosom  of  fools  ;' 
and  our  best  improvement  of  the  death  of  this  useful  servant  of  God  will  be  to 
imitate  his  excellences  and  forget  his  errors.  Pray  write  as  soon  as  possible.  I 
shall  be  extremely  impatient  till  I  hear.     I  am,  dear  brother, 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 
"  To  Mr.  Isaae  James."  "  R.  Hall." 

Before  this  time  it  was  generally  apprehended  that  Mr.  Hall's  senti- 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  |9 

ments  had,  on  some  momentous  points,  deviated  considerably  from  the 
accredited  standards  of  even  moderate  orthodoxy ;  and  he  had  given 
much  pain  to  some  of  his  Baptist  friends  on  account  of  his  views  with 
regard  to  rebaptizing.  Some  correspondence  took  place  between  him 
and  the  Broadmead  church  on  these  subjects:  and,  as  well  that  the 
sentiments  he  then  really  held  may  be  known,  as  that  the  extent  of 
his  declension  into  positive  error  may  be  judged  of  from  his  own  lan- 
guage, I  shall  here  insert  the  frank  exposition  of  his  opinions,  which  he 
addressed  to  the  church  when  he  was  on  the  eve  of  dissolving  his 
connexion  with  it. 

"  My   dear   Brethren,  "  Thursday,  Dec.  9th,  1790. 

"  Every  token  of  your  respect  and  attachment  sensibly  affects  me  ;  and,  as  you 
have  requested  me  to  explain  myself  on  those  sentiments  to  which  I  alluded  a» 
reasons  of  separation,  I  think  it  a  duty  I  owe  to  myself  and  to  you  to  give  you  all 
the  satisfaction  in  my  power. 

"  1st.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  a  firm  believer  in  the  proper  divinity  of  Jesua 
Christ  ;  in  the  merits  of  Chri.st  as  the  sole  ground  of  acceptance  in  the  sight  of 
God,  without  admitting  works  to  have  any  share  in  the  great  business  of  justifi* 
cation  ;  and  in  the  necessity  of  Divine  influence  to  regenerate  and  sanctify  the 
mind  of  every  man,  in  order  to  his  becoming  a  real  Christian.  Thus  far  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  2dly.  In  the  second  place,  I  am  not  a  Calvinist,  in  the  strict  and  proper  sense 
of  that  term.  I  do  not  maintain  the  federal  headship  of  Adam,  as  it  is  called,  or 
the  imputation  of  his  sin  to  his  posterity  ;  and  this  doctrine  I  have  always  con- 
sidered, and  do  still  consider,  as  the  foundation  of  that  system.  I  believe  we  have 
received  from  our  first  parents,  together  with  various  outward  ills,  a  corrupt  and 
irregular  bias  of  mind ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  my  firm  opinion  that  we  are 
liable  to  condemnation  only  for  our  own  actions,  and  that  guilt  is  a  personal  and 
individual  thing.  I  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  decrees,  and  of  course  in 
the  predestination  of  all  events,  of  which  the  number  of  the  finally  saved  is  one. 
But  this  appears  tome  a  different  thing  from  the  doctrine  of  absolute  election  and 
reprobation,  as  it  has  ever  been  explained  by  Calvinists,  which  does  not  meet  my 
approbation.  Without  going  into  a  large  field  of  metaphysical  discussion,  this  is 
all  I  think  it  requisite  to  say  respecting  my  orthodoxy  ;  but  there  are  two  other 
points  which  have  occasioned  a  good  deal  of  conversation,  and  from  some  quarters 
a  good  deal  of  censure  ;  upon  which  I  shall  therefore  beg  leave  to  explain  myself 
in  a  few  words. 

"  3dly.  I  am,  and  have  been  for  a  long  time,  a  materialist,  though  I  have  never 
drawn  your  attention  to  this  subject  in  my  preaching :  because  I  have  always 
considered  it  myself,  and  wi.shed  yo-u  to  consider  it,  as  a  mere  metaphysical  specu- 
lation. My  opinion,  however,  upon  this  head  is,  th.at  the  nature  of  man  is  simple 
and  uniform  ;  that  the  thinking  powers  and  faculties  are  the  result  of  a  certain 
organization  of  matter  ;  and  that  after  death  he  ceases  to  be  conscious  until  the 
resurrection." 

*  ******* 

"  Much  has  been  said  upon  my  opinions  respecting  baptism,  and  I  am  happy  to 
have  this  opportunity  of  explaining  my  sentiments  on  that  subject  in  particular, 
as  it  affects,  not  only  the  propriety  of  my  former  relation  to  this  church,  but  of  any 
future  connexion  I  may  form  with  any  other  Christian  society.  On  this  point 
much  mistake,  much  misrepresentation,  I  hope  not  voluntary,  has  taken  place  ;  and 
on  this  account  I  trust  you  will  excuse  my  dwelling  upon  it  a  little  more  particu- 
larly than  its  importance  in  other  respects  might  seem  to  justify.  It  has  been 
held  out  to  the  wodd  by  some  that  I  am  twt  a  Baptist.  I  am,  both  in  respect  to  the 
subject  and  to  the  mode  of  this  institution,  a  Baptist.  To  apply  this  ordinance 
to  infants  appears  to  m«  a  perversion  of  the  intention  of  the  sacred  institution  ; 
and  the  primitive,  the  regular,  and  proper  mode  of  administration  I  take  to  be 
immersion.  Still  it  appears  to  me  that  sprinkling,  though  an  innovation,  does  not 
deprive  baptism  of  its  essential  validity,  so  as  to  put  the  person  that  has  been 
sprinkled  m  adult  age  upon  a  footing  with  the  unbaptized.     The  whole  of  my  een- 

2* 


20  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

timents  amounts  to  this, — I  would  not  myself  baptize  in  any  other  manner  than 
by  immersion,  because  I  look  upon  immersion  as  the  ancient  mode,  that  it  best 
represents  the  meaning  of  the  original  term  employed,  and  the  substantial  import 
of  this  institution  ;  and  because  I  should  think  it  right  to  guard  against  the  spirit 
of  innovation,  which  in  positive  rites  is  always  dangerous  and  progressive  :  but  I 
should  not  think  myself  authorized  to  rebaptize  any  one  who  has  been  sprinkled 
in  adult  age.  I  shall  only  remark,  in  addition  to  what  I  have  already  said  upon 
this  point,  that  if  it  be  a  sufficient  objection  to  my  union  with  a  Baptist  congrega- 
tion ;  then,  as  all  Christendom  is  composed  of  Baptists  or  Pedobaptists,  it  amounts 
to  my  exclusion,  as  a  minister,  from  every  Christian  society  throughout  the  whole 
earth  :  an  interdict  equally  absurd  and  inhuman,  founded  upon  a  conduct  merely 
negative  in  chimerical  situations  seldom  ar  never  likely  to  occur. 

"  I  have  thus,  in  compliance  with  your  wishes,  and  with  all  the  perspicuity  in 
my  power,  in  a  few  words  explained  to  you  my  religious  opinions,  with  a  more 
particular  view  to  the  subjects  on  which  I  may  be  supposed  most  to  err  ;  and  this 
avowal  I  have  made,  partly  as  a  testimony  of  the  respect  I  bear  you,  and  partly  to 
vindicate  my  character  from  any  suspicion  of  ambiguity  or  reserve  ;  but  not  at  aH 
with  the  remotest  wish  to  win  popularity  or  to  court  your  suffrages  ;  for  at  present 
it  is  as  little  in  my  power  to  accept  any  invitation  to  continue,  as  it  may  be  in 
your  inclination  to  give  it,  as  I  hold  myself  engaged  in  honour  as  a  probationer 
for  six  months  to  a  respectable  society  at  Cambridge.  May  peace  and  prosperity 
attend  you.  "  I  am,  your  friend  and  brother, 

"  With  the  greatest  respect, 

"R.  Hall." 

The  vexations  and  perplexities  in  which  Mr.  Hall  had  been  for  some 
time  involved  doubtless  facilitated  his  removal  to  another  sphere  of 
action.  And  he  who  duly  meditates  upon  the  way  in  which  the  great 
Head  of  the  church  renders  the  movements  of  his  providence  sub- 
servient to  his  merciful  purposes  in  redemption,  will,  1  am  persuaded, 
trace  the  superintending  hand  on  this  occasion. 

Mr.  Robinson,  the  pastor  of  the  church  at  Cambridge  with  which  Mr. 
Hall  was  now  about  to  be  connected,  was  a  man  of  extensive  powers, 
of  some  genius,  and  of  considerable  industry  and  research.  Fascinat- 
ing as  a  preacher,  delightful  as  a  companion,  perseveringly  skilful  in  the 
insinuation  of  his  sentiments,  his  influence  could  not  but  be  great.  From 
the  profession  of  orthodox  opinions,  he  had  passed  by  a  rather  rapid 
transition,  not  to  Socinianism,  but  far  beyond,  to  the  very  borders  of 
infidelity ;  such,  at  least,  was  the  substance  of  his  declaration  to  Dr. 
Priestley,  whom  he  thanked  for  preserving  him  from  that  awful  gulf. 
Vain  specidation  was  substituted  for  knowledge,  faith,  and  experience  ; 
confession  and  prayer  but  seldom  made  a  part  of  the  public  worship 
which  he  conducted,  his  effusions  before  sermon  consisting  almost  alto- 
gether of  ascriptions  of  praise  ;  and  the  congregation  became  so  trans- 
formed and  deteriorated  in  consequence,  that  among  the  more  intelli- 
gent classes,  with  only  two  or  three  exceptions,  "  he  was  esteemed  the 
best  Christian  who  was  most  skilled  in  disputation,"  not  he  who  evinced 
most  of  the  "  spirit  of  Christ."  The  majority  of  the  poorer  members, 
however,  escaped  the  contagion,  and  were  ready  to  co-operate  with  the 
late  Mr.  Foster,  who  was  then  the  senior  deacon,  and  another  of  the 
deacons,  who  equally  deplored  the  evils  which  had  fallen  upon  them. 
Cordially  attached  to  those  doctrines  which  they  regarded  as  funda- 
mental, and  therefore  as  constituting  the  basis  of  church  union,  they 
were  preparing  to  call  upon  the  whole  body  to  consider  the  expediency  of 
requesting  Mr.  Robinson  to  resign,  when  his  sudden  death  at  Birming- 
ham, just  after  he  had  been  preaching  in  Dr.  Priestley's  pulpit,  rendered 
such  a  measure  unnecessar^^  On  the  news  of  this  event  reaching 
Cambridge,  Mr.  Foster,  who  was  then  on  his  death-bed,  made  it  his 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  21 

last  request  to  some  of  the  most  influential  men  in  the  church,  that 
they  would  never  consent  to  the  appointment  of  a  Socinian  as  Mr. 
Robinson's  successor. 

From  this  account  of  the  state  of  the  church  at  Mr.  Robinson's 
decease,  it  will  appear  how  difficult  it  was  to  select  a  successor  who 
would  be  approved  by  all ;  how  difficult,  also,  for  that  successor  to 
walk  steadily  in  the  path  of  duty. 

Mr.  Hall,  who  by  this  time  had  attained  a  high  reputation  as  a 
preacher,  was  invited,  in  June  or  July,  1790,  to  preach  at  Cambridge  for 
one  month ;  after  which  the  invitation  was  renewed  for  a  longer  term. 
In  July  the  following  year,  he  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  : 
the  letter  announcing  his  acceptance  of  the  important  trust  will  be 
found  in  another  part  of  this  volume.* 

In  these  transactions  and  their  consequences  still  unfolding,  the  wis- 
dom and  mercy  of  God  are  strikingly  manifested.  There  was  at  that 
time  no  man  of  eminence  among  the  Baptists,  besides  Mr.  Hall,  who 
could  for  a  moment  have  been  thought  of  by  the  church  at  Cambridge 
as  a  fit  successor  to  Mr.  Robinson ;  nor  was  there  any  Baptist  church 
and  congregation  with  which  he  could  become  comiected  with  the 
same  prospect  of  being  useful  and  happy,  according  to  the  views  he 
then  entertained.  Had  Mr.  Hall's  religious  principles  and  feelings  been 
such  in  1790  and  1791  as  they  became  a  few  years  afterward,  not  even 
his  talents  would  have  made  them  palatable ;  and  a  connexion,  had  it 
been  formed,  would  soon  have  been  dissolved:  on  the  other  hand,  had 
the  church  been  decidedly  and  entirely  Socinianized,  he  could  not  con- 
scientiously have  become  its  pastor.  The  providential  correlation 
soon  began  to  show  itself.  Their  looseness  of  sentiment  on  many 
points,  which  even  then  he  thought  momentous,  led  him  to  enforce 
them  frequently  with  the  utmost  energy ;  while  his  known  freedom  of 
opinion  on  other  points,  which  they  also  had  been  led  to  canvass  freely, 
preserved  him  from  the  odium  of  orthodoxy.  Thinking  themselves 
liberal  and  unshackled,  they  could  not  but  congratulate  one  another 
that  their  new  pastor,  a  man  of  splendid  talents,  was  almost  as  liberal 
and  unshackled  as  they  were.  Then  again,  their  want  of  devotional 
seriousness,  by  the  force  of  contrast,  heightened  his  estimate  of  the 
value  of  true  piety  ;  and  this  produced  an  augmented  earnestness  and 
fidelity,  which  they  first  learned  to  tolerate,  and  afterward  to  admire. 
Thus,  by  the  operation  of  an  incessant  action  and  reaction,  continued 
for  years,  each  party  exerted  a  salutary  influence  on  the  other ;  and  at 
length  both  church  and  pastor  became  so  distinguished  for  piety,  har- 
mony, and  aff"ection,  that  they  who  had  known  and  lamented  their 
former  state  were  compelled  to  exclaim,  "  This  hath  God  wrought." 

The  death  of  Mr.  Hall's  father,  which  occurred  in  March,  1791,  had 
indeed  tended  greatly  to  bring  his  mind  to  the  state  of  serious  thought 
with  which  he  entered  upon  the  pastoral  ofl[ice.  Meditating  with  the 
deepest  veneration  upon  the  unusual  excellences  of  a  parent  now  for 
ever  lost  to  him,  he  was  led  to  investigate,  with  renewed  earnestness, 
the  truth  as  well  as  value  of  those  high  and  sacred  principles  from 
which  his  eminent  piety  and  admirable  consistency  so  evidently 
flowed.  He  called  to  mind,  too,  several  occasions  on  which  his  father, 
partly  by  the  force  of  reason,  partly  by  that  of  tender  expostulation,  had 
exhorted  him  to  abandon  the  vague  and  dangerous  speculations  to 
which  he  was  prone.  Some  important  changes  in  Mr.  Hall's  senti- 
ments resulted  from  an  inquiry  conducted  under  such  solemn  impres- 

*  See  p.  209. 


22  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

sions;  and  among  these  may  be  mentioned  his  renunciation  of  ma<ma/- 
ism,  which  he  often  declared  he  "  buried  in  his  father's  grave." 

Attentive  to  the  voice  of  heavenly  admonition,  thus  addressing  him 
from  various  quarters,  he  entered  upon  his  new  duties  with  earnest 
desires  that  he  might  be  able  "  to  commend  himself  to  every  man's 
conscience  in  the  sight  of  God."  Feeling  that  to  him  was  consigned 
the  charge  of  transforming,  with  God's  assistance,  a  cold  and  steril 
soil  into  a  fruitful  field,  he  determined  not  to  satisfy  himself  with  half- 
measures,  but  proceeded  to  expose  error,  and  defend  what  he  regarded 
as  essential  truth.  The  first  sermon,  therefore,  which  he  dehvered  at 
Cambridge,  after  he  had  assumed  the  office  of  pastor,  was  on  the  doc- 
trine of  the  atonement,  and  its  practical  tendencies.  Immediately  after 
the  conclusion  of  the  service,  one  of  the  congregation,  who  had  fol- 
lowed poor  Mr.  Robinson  through  all  his  changes  of  sentiment,  went 
into  the  vestry,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Hall,  this  preaching  won't  do  for  us  : 
it  will  only  suit  a  congregation  of  old  women." — "  Do  you  mean  my 
sermon,  sir,  or  the  doctrine  T' — "  Your  doctrine.'''' — "  Why  is  it  that  the 
doctrine  is  fit  only  for  old  women  V — "  Because  it  may  suit  the  musings 
of  people  tottering  upon  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  who  are  eagerly 
seeking  comfort." — "  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  concession.  The  doc- 
trine will  not  suit  people  of  any  age,  unless  it  be  true;  and  if  it  be  true, 
it  is  not  fitted  for  old  women  alone,  but  is  equally  important  at  ei-eiy  age." 

This  individual,  and  three  or  four  other  men  of  influence,  with  about 
twenty  from  the  poorer  classes,  shortly  afterward  withdrew  from  the 
congregation,  and  met  together  on  the  Sunday  evenings  at  a  private 
house.  The  then  Rev.  William  Frend,  fellow  and  tutor  of  Jesus  Col- 
lege, an  avowed  Socinian,  became  their  religious  instructer.  This 
separate  assembly,  however,  did  not  continue  many  montlis  ;  for  the 
person  at  whose  house  they  met  was,  ere  long,  taken  up  and  tried  for 
sedition,  and  convicted ;  and  the  proceedings  against  Mr.  Frend,  on 
account  of  his  pamphlet  entitled  "  Peace  and  Union,"  which  for  so  long 
a  time  kept  the  University  of  Cambridge  in  a  state  of  great  agitation, 
and  which  ended  in  his  expulsion  from  it,  drew  away  his  attention  from 
the  little  band  of  seceders. 

Mr.  Hall's  ministerial  labours,  at  this  interesting  period  of  his  life, 
were  blessed  with  the  happiest  results,  when  the  benefit  seemed  likely 
to  be  for  a  while  suspended  by  the  intrusion  of  violent  political  discus- 
sion. The  impression  made  throughout  Europe  by  the  French  revo- 
lution of  1789  was  such,  that  not  merely  here  and  there  an  individual 
indulged  in  political  speculation,  but  almost  every  man  threw  himself 
into  the  vortex  of  controversy.  The  clergy  of  every  order  and  station, 
the  laity  of  every  rank  and  class,  yielded  alike  to  the  impulsion ;  and 
he  who  did  not  declare  his  decided  and  cordial  adhesion  to  one  or  other 
of  the  contending  parties  might  expect  tlie  censure  of  both,  for  his 
want  of  spirit  or  of  principle.  Cambridge,  hitherto  characterized  as 
the  whig  university,  was,  at  this  epoch,  split  into  the  most  violent  party 
divisions,  and  the  public  was  deluged  with  sermons  from  the  pulpit, 
and  pamphlets  from  the  press,  in  which  the  respective  advocates  of 
*'  things  as  they  are,"  and  of  "  things  as  they  should  be,"  defended  their 
opposite  views  with  the  utmost  zeal,  and  too  often  with  the  most 
unbecoming  rancour. 

At  such  a  season  Mr.  Hall,  then  under  thirty  years  of  age,  was  not 
likely  to  maintain  an  entire  silence.  When  a  man's  quiescence  was 
sufficient  to  render  his  principles  equivocal,  he  was  certainly  not  one 
who  would  make  a  secret  of  his  opinions.  He  thought  that  political 
ethics  had  almost  ceased  to  be  referable  to  any  principle  of  pure  ethics. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  23 

He  hesitated  not  to  avow  that  the  grand  object  of  all  good  government 
must  be  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the  governed,  to  assist  every 
individual  in  its  attainment  and  security.  He  regarded  a  government 
chiefly  anxious  about  the  emoluments  of  office,  or  aiming  to  consoli- 
date its  own  power  at  home  and  to  aid  the  efforts  of  despots  abroad, 
while  it  neglected  the  comfort  and  welfare  of  individuals  in  middle  or 
lower  life,  whose  burdens  it  augmented  by  a  mistaken  course,  as  a  gov- 
ernment th.it  should  be  constitutionally  opposed  by  every  lawful  means. 

He  gave  to  such  subjects,  also,  more  than  political  consideratio;is. 
He  looked  upon  those  European  governments  which  were  founded  on 
oppression,  and  trampled  on  the  natural  rights  of  man,  as  operating 
most  fatally  in  ttie  extinction  of  light  and  virtue.  He  regarded  the 
conditions  of  those  who  tyrannize,  and  of  those  who  are  the  objects  of 
tyranny.,  as  each  productive  of  a  numerous  and  distinct  class  of  vices ; 
and  thought  that  the  consequent  darkness,  ignorance,  and  criminality 
of  the  general  mass  under  despotic  governments,  in  great  measure,  if 
not  entirely,  incapacitated  them  for  the  pure  and  elevated  enjoyments 
of  heaven.  It  was  hence  a  permanent  conviction  of  his  mind,  "  that  he 
who  is  instrumental  in  perpetuating  a  corrupt  and  wicked  government 
is  also  instrumental  in  unfitting  his  fellow-men  for  the  felicity  of  the 
celestial  mansions."*  Could  it  then  be  matter  of  surprise  that,  believ- 
ing and  feeling  all  this,  he  should  exult  when  "  the  empire  of  darkness 
and  of  despotism  had  been  smitten  with  a  stroke  which  sounded 
through  the  universe  ;"  or,  when  other  ministers  of  the  gospel  were 
signalizing  themselves  by  opposing  this  view  of  things,  that  he  should, 
for  a  short  interval,  be  drawn  aside  from  pursuits  more  congenial  with 
his  prevailing  tastes,  and,  in  some  important  respects,  I  think,  more 
compatible  with  his  holy  calling,  and  at  once  endeavour  to  prove  that 
"  Christianity  is  consistent  with  a  love  of  freedom,"  and  that  true  Chris- 
tianity will  prevail  most  where  genuine  freedom  is  most  diffused  and 
best  understood  ? 

Cordial,  however,  as  was  Mr.  Hall's  attachment  to  a  cause  in  which 
he  conceived  man's  best  interests  to  be  closely  interwoven,  and  strong 
as  was  his  hatred  of  despotic  measures,  or  what  he  regarded  as  such, 
either  at  home  or  abroad,  1  do  not  think  that  even  their  joint  operation 
would  have  overcome  his  repugnance  to  writing,  had  it  not  been  for 
skilful  abetters,  who  first  worked  upon  his  feelings,  and  then  extorted 
from  him  the  promise  of  preparing  a  work  for  the  public.  Such,  if  I 
have  not  been  misinformed,  was  the  origin  of  his  first  political  pam- 
phlet ;  and  such,  I  know,  from  his  own  declaration,  often  repeated,  was 
the  origin  of  the  eloquent  and  powerful  "  Apology  for  the  Freedom  of 
the  Press."  The  evening  after  the  event  occurred  to  which  he  alludes 
in  the  "  Apology,"!  ^^e  attended  a  periodical  meeting  of  a  book-society, 
constituted  principally  of  members  of  his  own  congregation,  and  of  Mr. 
Simeon's,  and  usually  denominated  Alderman  Lid's  Club,  that  distin- 
guished ornament  of  Mr.  Simeon's  congregation  being  the  treasurer. 
Every  person  present  expressed  himself  in  terms  of  the  strongest  indig- 
nation at  the  insult  offered  to  Mr.  Musgrave  ;  every  one  thought  it 
highly  desirable  that  some  man  of  talent  at  Cambridge  should  advocate 
the  principles  maintained  by  the  friends  of  liberty,  especially  of  those 
who  avowed  evangelical  sentiments,  and  the  necessity  for  their  united 
activity,  in  the  present  state  of  the  country  and  of  Europe.  Mr.  Hall 
spoke  as  decidedly  as  any  of  them  with  regard  to  the  urgent  necessities 
of  the  case  ;  when  they  all,  having  brought  him  precisely  into  the  pos;- 

*  See  tbe  spleadid  passage  in  vol.  ii.  p.  36-38.  t  See  note  in  vol.  ii.  p.  !i^ 


24  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

tion  'at  which  they  were  ainiina:,  exclaimed  that  it  was  he  to  whom 
alone  they  could  look  in  this  exigency.  "  Alderman  Tnd,  you  know, 
sir,"  said  he,  "was  an  excellent  man  ;  pure  as  a  seraph,  and  gentle  as'  a 
lamb.  I  thought  that  if  he  felt  roused,  if  he  could  join  with  the  rest  in 
urging  me,  I  might  bring  all  hesitation  to  a  truce  ;  and  so,  in  an  evil 
hour,  I  yielded  to  their  entreaties.  I  went  home  to  my  lodgings,  and 
began  to  write  iminediately ;  sat  up  all  night ;  and,  wonderful  for  me, 
kept  up  the  intellectual  ferment  for  almost  a  month  ;  and  then  the  thing 
was  done.  I  revised  it  a  little  as  it  went  through  the  press ;  but  I  have 
ever  since  regretted  that  I  wrote  so  hastily  and  superficially  upon  some 
subjects  brought  forward,  which  required  touching  with  a  master-hand, 
and  exploring  to  their  very  foundations.  So  far  as  I  understand  the 
purely  political  principles  which  are  advanced  in  that  pamphlet,  they 
are,  I  believe,  correct :  at  all  events  they  are  mine  still.  But,  I  repeat 
it,  I  yielded  in  an  evil  hour  ;  especially  if  I  had  any  wish  to  obtain  per- 
manent reputation  as  a  political  writer.  Perhaps,  however,  the  pam- 
phlet had  its  use  in  those  perilous  times."  Such  was  Mr.  Hall's 
account  of  this  publication.  How  far  it  indicates  the  spirit  of  self- 
depreciation,  in  which,  almost  through  life,  he  characterized  his  own 
productions,  they  who  are  best  acquainted  with  the  "Apology"  will  be 
most  competent  to  decide  ;  unless,  indeed,  their  prepossessions  and 
prejudices  should  disqualify  them  for  deciding  aright. 

But,  whatever  might  be  Mr.  Hall's  opinion  of  this  work,  it  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  regarded  by  the  public  as  of  little  value.  Three 
editions  were  called  for,  I  believe,  within  less  than  six  months;  and 
then,  the  author  not  sanctioning  a  republication,  various  editions  were 
printed  and  circulated  surreptitiously.  Its  more  splendid  and  impres- 
sive passages  were  repeatedly  quoted  in  the  periodicals  of  the  day,  and 
many  of  its  arguments  were  cited  as  perfectly  conclusive.  It  was  also 
widely  circulated  in  America ;  and  is  there  still  regarded  as  having  been 
powerfully  influential  in  diifusing  those  liberal  political  principles  which, 
of  late,  have  acquired  so  marked  an  ascendency  in  Britain. 

Mr.  Hall,  however,  experienced  such  inconveniences  from  his  politi- 
cal celebrity,  as  induced  him  to  recede,  not  from  his  principles,  or  from 
the  avowal  of  them  in  private,  but  from  the  further  advocacy  of  them  in 
public.  It  forced  upon  him  the  society  of  men  whose  conduct  and 
character  he  could  not  approve  ;  it  tended  to  draw  him,  much  more 
than  he  could  conscientiously  justify,  from  retirement  and  study ;  and 
thus,  ere  long  he  became  of  opinion,  to  adopt  his  own  words,  "  that  the 
Christian  ministry  is  in  danger  of  losing  something  of  its  energy  and 
sanctity,  by  embarking  on  the  stormy  element  of  political  debate." 
His  elegant  eulogium  on  Dr.  Priestley,*  in  his  first  pamphlet,  and  the 
warm  terms  of  admiration  in  which  he  used  to  speak  of  him  in  private, 
tempted  many  to  fancy,  and  to  say,  that  he  also  was  a  Socinian  at 
heart ;  and  although  his  preaching  became  more  and  more  distinguished 
by  the  introduction  and  energetic  application  of  evangelical  truth,  he 
still  found  himself  often  so  equivocally  placed  as  to  render  his  denial 
of  Socinianism  quite  imperative.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  Mr.  Hall 
having,  in  liis  usual  terms,  panegyrized  Dr.  Priestley,  a  gentleman  who 
held  the  doctor's  theological  opinions,  tapping  Mr.  Hall  upon  the 
shoulder  with  an  indelicate  freedom  from  wbich  he  recoiled,  said,  "  Ah  ! 
«ir,  we  sliall  have  you  among  us  soon,  I  see."  Mr.  Hall,  startled  and 
offended  by  the  rude  tone  of  exultation  in  which  this  was  uttered, 
hastily  replied,  "  Me  among  you,  sir !  me  among  you !    Why,  if  that 

See  vol.il.  p.  23-20. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  25 

were  ever  the  case,  I  should  deserve  to  be  tied  to  the  tail  of  the  great 
red  dragon,  and  whipped  round  the  nethermost  regions  to  all  eternity  !" 

Notwithstanding  the  reasons  Mr.  Hall  thus  had  for  some  degree  of 
reserve,  yet  in  this,  as  in  every  period  of  his  life,  he  displayed  a  remark- 
able relish  for  social  intercourse.  He  did  not  court  the  society  of  lite- 
rary men  ;  indeed,  he  rather  shrank  from  it,  because  he  felt  the  risk  of 
having  his  thoughts  too  much  engrossed  by  mere  matters  of  language 
or  of  science :  he  had  acquired  enough  of  both  to  value  them  greatly ; 
yet  he  desired  to  regard  them  principally  as  subservient  to  the  higher 
purposes  of  his  profession.  Besides  this,  the  philosophy  of  mind,  in 
which  he  took  extreme  interest,  was  then  but  little  cultivated  at  Cam- 
bridge. Happily,  however,  the  leading  individuals  in  his  congregation 
were  very  intelligent  and  well-informed,  able  to  appreciate  his  talents 
justly,  and  skilful  in  bringing  his  conversational  powers  into  fall  action. 
With  one  or  other  of  these  he  usually  spent  his  evenings,  selecting  most 
frequently  those  who  possessed  the  enjoyments  of  domestic  life,  and 
often  stealing  in  earlier  than  he  was  expected,  that  he  might  for  an 
hour  share  in  the  gambols  and  gayety  of  the  children. 

He  was,  but  only  for  a  short  time,  an  imitator  of  Dr.  Johnson.  Some 
years  afterward,  when  reminded  of  this,  he  replied,  "  Yes,  sir :  I 
aped  Johnson,  and  I  preached  Johnson  ;  and  I  am  afraid  with  little  more 
of  evangelical  sentiment  than  is  to  be  found  in  liis  Essays :  but  it  was 
youthful  folly,  and  it  was  very  great  folly.  I  might  as  well  have 
attempted  to  dance  a  hornpipe  in  the  cumbrous  costume  of  Gog  and 
Magog.  My  puny  thoughts  could  not  sustain  the  load  of  the  words  in 
which  I  tried  to  clothe  them." 

There  needed  not,  in  truth,  the  principle  of  imitation  to  produce 
great  similarity  in  some  important  respects  between  these  two  extraor- 
dinary men.  They  manifested  the  physical  difference  between  a 
melancholic  and  a  cheerful  temperament ;  in  consequence  of  which,  the 
one  was  slow  and  measured  in  utterance,  the  other  rapid  and  urgent. 
But,  in  conversation,  both  evinced  a  ready  comprehension  of  the  whole 
subject,  a  quick  and  decisive  accuracy  in  answering,  and  a  perfect  self- 
dependence.  They  both  disliked  a  protracted  debate,  and  would  some- 
times terminate  a  discussion,  when  it  was  growing  tiresome,  by  a  strong 
and  pointed  observation  which  it  was  difficult  to  encounter.  Both  were 
alike  in  exhibiting  a  rather  more  than  ordinary  degree  of  faith  in  things 
of  a  preternatural  or  mysterious  description.  In  both,  too,  there  were 
the  similarities  of  acute  intellect  united  with  splendid  imagination ;  and 
of  a  natural  majesty  of  mental  and  moral  genius  which  commanded 
veneration.  But  in  the  correction  of  his  faults,  and  the  improvement 
of  his  virtues,  Mr.  Hall  possessed,  in  his  superior  piety,  an  immense 
advantage  over  Dr.  Johnson. 

In  argument  he  was  impetuous,  and  sometimes  overbearing;  but  if 
he  lost  his  temper  he  was  deeply  humbled,  and  would  often  acknowledge 
himself  to  blame.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  when  a  discussion  had 
become  warm,  and  he  had  evinced  unusual  agitation,  he  suddenly 
closed  the  debate,  quitted  his  seat,  and,  retiring  to  a  remote  part  of  the 
room,  was  overheard  by  a  lady,  who  was  just  entering,  to  ejaculate  with 
deep  feehng,  "  Lamb  of  God  !  Lamb  of  God  !  calm  my  perturbed  spirit  !" 

Mr.  HaU's  personal  habits,  not  only  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  now 
speaking,  but  in  a  certain  degree  through  life,  though  not  precisely 
those  of  an  absent  man,  were  those  of  one  whose  mental  occupations 
kept  his  thoughts  at  a  distance  from  various  matters  of  ordinary  observ- 
ance, and  made  him  regardless  of  a  thousand  things  which  most  per- 
sons never  forget.     Thus,  on  his  return  from  an  evening  visit,  if  not 


26  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

watched,  he  would  take  a  wrong  hat  or  great-coat ;  if  not  sought  after 
by  some  of  the  congregation,  he  would  mistake  the  proper  eveiung  of 
a  week-day  service,  having  in  such  cases  been  so  absorbed  in  study,  as 
to  lose  a  day  in  his  reckoning ; — for  the  same  reason,  he  often  mistook 
the  day  or  the  hour  of  an  appointment ;  vvlien  on  any  of  his  journeys 
to  London  he  engaged  to  take  up  the  letters  of  his  friends,  it  was 
not  unusual,  after  his  return,  to  find  them  all  in  his  portmanteau,  or  in 
his  great-coat  pocket.  These,  or  similar  instances  of  forgetfuhiess, 
occurred  daily ;  but,  exciting  the  attention  of  his  affectionate  and 
watchful  friends,  they  seldom  exposed  him  to  serious  inconvenience. 

None  of  these  peculiarities  sprang  from  an  affectation  of  singularity ; 
they  simply  marked  an  inattention  to  things  of  minor  importance.  Nor 
was  there  united  with  them  a  regardlessness  of  the  proprieties  of 
society,  a  disdain  of  such  civilities  and  attentions  as  were  usual  in  the 
classes  with  whom  he  most  associated.  He  had  never  aimed  to 
acquire  a  facility  in  the  manners  and  habits  of  genteel  life ;  but  he  had 
a  native  ease  and  grace,  which  was  obviously  distinguishable  from  any 
acquired  habit.  It  was  a  grace  that  could  neither  be  bought  nor 
borrowed ;  on  all  proper  occasions  heightened  by  the  dignity  which 
naturally  comported  with  his  character  and  office  ;  and  uniformly 
blended  with  that  genuine  simplicity  which  often  accompanies  intellect- 
ual greatness,  and  is  always,  if  1  mistake  not,  an  attribute  of  moral 
greatness. 

Several  particulars  in  the  preceding  account  of  Mr.  Hall's  first  years 
at  Cambridge  will  be  illustrated  by  the  foUowuig  brief  sketch,  which  I 
have  received  from  a  gentleman  who  had  the  most  favourable  opportu- 
nities, as  well  as  the  requisite  taste  and  discrimination,  for  correctly 
estimating  his  character. 

"I  hiid  but  a  sliirht  nrquaintance  with  Robert  Hall  from  1790  to  1793  :  from 
thence  to  the  end  of  1796  I  knew  him  intimately.  At  that  period  his  creed  was 
imperfect,  wanting  the  personahty  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  wavering  between  the 
terrors  of  Calvin  and  the  plausil)ilities  of  Baxter.*  His  infirmities,  which  u  ere 
increasing,  he  concealed  with  dexterity,  o])posed  with  vigour,  and  sustained  with 
uncommon  patience.  In  his  ministerial  situation  he  was  far  from  easy  ;  and  he 
was  vehemently  severe  upon  Robinson  for  leaving  his  church  a  wilderness,  and 
bequeathing  his  successor  a  bed  of  thorns. 

"  His  relitjious  conversation  in  company  was  not  frequent,  and  for  the  most 
part  doctrinal  ;  but,  in  private,  his  experimental  communications  vvcrc  in  beauty, 
elevation,  and  compass  beyond  all  I  ever  heard.  The  memory  of  a  man  of 
seventy-three  will  not  atlord  particulars ;  and  the  general  impression  can  neither 
be  obliterated  nor  expressed. 

"  In  his  manners  he  was  a  close  imitator  of  Dr.  Johnson  ;  fond  of  tea-table 
talk,  and  of  the  society  of  cultivated  females,  who  had  the  taste  to  lend  him  an  ear, 
and  the  ability  requisite  to  make  attention  a  favour.  He  has  confessed  to  me  the 
taking  thirty  cu[)s  of  tea  in  an  afternoon,  and  told  me  his  method  was  to  visit  four 
families,  and  drink  seven  or  eight  cups  at  each. 

"  He  knew,  as  well  as  any  man,  what  bad  men  were,  and  what  good  men  should 
be  ;  yet  was  often  wrong  in  his  judgment  of  individuals.  From  this  deficiency  in 
the  knowledge  of  mankind,  he  sometimes  trusteed  his  false,  and  abused  his  true 
friends  :  when  he  perceived  his  error  he  changed  his  conduct,  but,  I  suspect,  very 
seldom  confessed  his  mistake. 

"  He  did  not  then  read  much  ;  but  was  probably  more  hindered  by  pain  than 
by  indolence.  A  page,  indeed,  was  to  him  more  serviceable  than  a  volume  to 
many.  Hints  from  reading  or  discourse,  passing  through  his  great  mind,  expanded 
mto  treatises  and  .systems,  until  the  adopted  was  lost  in  the  begotten  ;  so  much  so, 
that  the  whole  appeared  original.     I  am  persuaded,  however,  that  when  I  knew 

*  This  phraseology  w/ll  niiuk  ihe  bia.s  of  my  truly  respected  correspomJent . 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  27 

him  he  had  not,  by  many  degrees,  attained  his  meridian.  I  should  regret  my 
incapacity  to  do  him  justice,  and  give  you  assistance,  were  I  not  persuaded  that 
only  the  bud  was  exhibited  to  me,'while  the  bloom  and  the  fruit  were  reserved  for 
those  more  deserving  to  be  happy." 

I  had  the  privilege  of  becoming-  first  known  to  Mr.  Hall  in  January, 
1797.  During  that  year  we  dined  daily  at  the  same  table :  the  next 
year  we  met  almost  every  morning  to  read  together:  and  for  some 
years  afterward  scarcely  a  week  passed  in  which  I  was  not  three  or 
four  times  in  his  society.  When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  him  I 
was  young,  and  ignorant  of  nearly  every  thing  but  the  most  rudimental 
knowledge  of  language  and  science  ;  of  which  I  possessed  just  enough 
to  employ  as  instruments  of  inquiry.  I  was  eager  to  acquire  informa- 
tion; but  ran  some  risk  of  turning  my  mind  to  that  which  was  useless, 
or  merely  showy,  instead  of  directing  its  best  energy  to  that  which  was 
truly  valuable.  In  such  circumstances,  to  be  allowed  the  friendship  and 
enjoy  the  advice  and  assistance  of  such  a  man  was  among  my  richest 
blessings.  Scarcely  a  thought  worth  preserving,  scarcely  a  principle 
of  action  worth  reducing  to  practice,  scarcely  a  source  of  true  enjoy- 
ment, but  I  derived  from  him,  or  1  was  led  to  receive,  or  to  appreciate 
more  correctly  through  his  agency.  If,  then,  for  some  pages,  my  name 
should  occur  more  often  in  immediate  association  with  that  of  my 
beloved  and  reverend  friend,  than  may  seem  consistent  with  ordinary 
rules,  may  I  be  freed  from  the  charge  of  egotism  !  especially,  if  I 
assure  the  reader,  that  while  nothing  affords  me  more  pleasure,  nothing 
awakens  more  gratitude  to  the  Father  of  Mercies,  than  the  retrospect 
of  the  intellectual  and  higher  than  intellectual  delights  which  were 
then  mine,  few  things  more  humble  me  than  the  conviction  that  though 
I  enjoyed  them  so  long,  I  suffered  them  to  pass  away  without  commen- 
surate improvement. 

Mr.  Hall  kindly  admitted  me  to  the  privacy  of  his  study,  in  addition 
lo  the  advantage  of  frequent  intercourse  with  him  in  the  society  of  his 
friends.  Desirous  to  assist  others  in  forming  their  estimate  of  this 
extraordinary  individual,  I  shall  not  merely  speak  of  his  character, 
habits,  and  pursuits,  but  occasionally  introduce  some  of  his  conversa- 
tional remarks ;  confining  myself,  however,  to  such  as  from  their 
brevity  always  occur  to  my  thoughts  in  the  ipsissima  verba  originally 
employed.  If  I  do  not  succeed  in  depicting  the  man,  which  indeed  I 
feel  conscious  is  far  beyond  my  powers,  I  may  at  least  attempt  to 
describe  him  as  he  then  appeared  to  me. 

When  I  first  saw  Mr.  Hall  I  was  struck  with  his  well-proportioned 
athletic  figure,  the  unassuming  dignity  of  his  deportment,  the  winning 
frankness  which  marked  all  that  he  uttered,  and  the  peculiarities  of  the 
most  speaking  countenance  I  ever  contemplated,  animated  by  eyes 
radiating  with  the  brilliancy  imparted  to  them  by  benevolence,  wit,  and 
intellectual  energy.  When  he  spoke,  except  in  the  most  ordinary  chit- 
chat, to  which  however  he  seldom  descended,  he  seemed  not  merely 
to  communicate  his  words,  but  himself:  and  I  then  first  learned  the 
difference  between  one  who  feels  while  he  is  speaking,  and  whose 
communicative  features  tell  you  that  he  does,  and  one  who  after  he  has 
spoken  long  and  with  apparent  earnestness  still  does  not  feel.  I  then 
learned  also,  that  though  talents  ma}^  convey  their  results  to  others,  and 
activity  may  carry  on  others  in  its  stream ;  yet  there  is  something  dis- 
tinct in  the  structure  of  a  great  mind  which  never  can  be  so  transferred 
to  another  as  to  become  its  native  characteristic.  Mr.  Hall  had  a 
buoyancy  and  playfulness  when  among  his  select  friends,  which  were 
remarkably  captivating.  Among  strangers  there  was  a  reserve  for  a 
short  time,  but  it  was  soon  shaken  off,  especially  if  he  found  that  they 


28  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

were  pious  or  intelligent.  The  presence  of  a  man  who  gave  himself 
airs  of  condescension  usually  induced  him  to  remain  silent  or  to  retire. 
He  conld  enjoy  the  society  of  men  of  moderate  information  ;  and  it  was 
interesting  to  observe  how  by  a  few  apt  questions  he  could  ascertain 
in  what  direction  their  pursuits  lay,  and  then  so  draw  them  out  as  to 
give  them  the  pleasure  of  feehng  that  they  were  contributing  to  his 
stock  of  that  knowledge  which  they  could  not  but  think  useful.  He 
was  eminently  alive  to  the  emotions  of  pity,  an  affection  always  calcu- 
lated to  inspire  attachment,  but  which,  in  a  man  of  abstract  habits  is, 
I  fear,  very  unusual.  He  was  generous  by  nature,  as  well  as  upon 
principle,  and  in  seasons  of  affliction  would  remarkably  identify  himself 
with  those  who  most  needed  sympathy.  He  rather  avoided  than  sought 
expressions  of  thankfulness ;  and  sometimes  v/hen  he  became  oppressed 
by  them  would  hastily  say,  "  Thank  you,  thank  you ;  you  have  said 
more  than  enough ;  remember,  God  has  sent  into  the  world  a  more 
powerful  and  more  noble  sentiment  than  even  gratitude." 

For  some  years  he  made  it  a  rule  to  pay  a  pastoral  visit  to  every 
member  of  his  church  once  each  quarter.  He  did  the  same  also  with 
regard  to  such  of  his  ordinary  hearers  as  he  thought  willing  to  receive 
him  as  a  minister  of  religion.  These  were  not  caUs,  but  visits,  and 
usually  paid  on  evenings,  that  he  might  meet  the  whole  assembled 
family.  Among  the  lower  classes,  to  make  them  quite  at  their  ease, 
he  would  sit  down  with  them  at  supper ;  and  that  this  might  involve 
them  in  no  extra  expense,  he  took  care  they  should  all  know  that  he 
preferred  a  basin  of  milk.* 

He  persuaded  the  poorer  members  of  his  church  to  form  little  meet- 
ings, for  reading,  religious  conversation,  and  prayer,  going  "  from 
house  to  house."  These  were  held  once  a  fortnight,  I  think,  in  the 
summer  time  ;  once  a  week  during  the  winter.  He  made  it  a  point  of 
official  duty  to  attend  them  frequently ;  and  regarded  them,  with  the 
weekly  meetings  in  the  vestry,  as  the  best  thermometer  for  ascertaining 
the  religious  state  of  his  people. 

Proceeding  thus,  it  was  not  surprising  that  he  conciliated  the  affec- 
tions of  his  friends,  and  secured  the  veneration  of  the  pious  ;  that  he 
extended  around  him  a  growing  conviction  of  his  excellence,  and  carried 
on  many  in  the  stream  of  his  mental  and  moral  power. 

In  him  all  was  at  the  utmost  remove  from  gloom  or  moroseness. 
Even  the  raillery  in  which  he  indulged  showed  his  good-nature,  and 
was  exceedingly  j)layful;  and,  notwithstanding  the  avowed  and  lamented 
impetuosity  in  argument  to  which  he  was  prone,  nothing,  so  far  as  I 
ever  saw,  but  conceit,  ingrafted  upon  stupidity,  provoked  his  impatience, 
and  called  forth  a  severity  which  he  scarcely  knew  how  to  restrain.! 
With  regard  to  disposition,  the  predominant  features  were  kindness  and 
cheerfulness.  He  never  deliberately  gave  pain  to  any  one,  except  in 
those  few  extreme  cases  where  there  appeared  a  moral  necessity  of 
"  rebuking  sharply"  for  the  good  of  the  offender.  His  kindness  to 
children,  to  servants,  to  the  indigent,  nay,  to  animals,  was  uniformly 

*  The  poorer  widows  of  his  flock  were  not  forgotten  in  these  periodical  visit.s.  To  them,  he 
said,  he.  repaired  lor  religious  instruction,  and  was  seldom  (hsappointed.  On  such  occasions  he 
selected  his  ever  favourite  repast  of  lea.  It  was  his  practice  to  carry  ten  and  siisrar  with  him, 
taking  especial  care  that  there  should  be  more  than  could  possibly  be  needed,  and  asking  perraission 
to  leave  the  remainder  behind  him. 

t  Ttie  following  is  an  instance  of  his  manner  of  checking  inordinate  vanity-  A  prencher  of  this 
character  having  delivered  a  sermon  in  Mr.  Hall's  hearing,  pressed  hiin,  with  a  disgusting  union 
of  solf-cBniplacency  and  indelicacy,  to  state  what  he  thought  of  the  sermon.  Mr.  llull  remained 
silent  for  some  time,  hoping  that  his  silence  would  be  rightly  interpreted  ;  but  this  only  caused  the 
question  to  be  pressed  witti  greater  earnestness.  Mr.  Hall,  at  length,  said,  "  There  was  one  very 
fine  passage,  sir." — "  I  aui  rejoiced  to  hear  you  say  so.  Pray,  sir,  wlUch  was  it  ?" — "  Why,  sir,  ft 
was  the  passage  from  the  pulpit  into  the  vestry." 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  29 

manifest.  And  such  was  his  prevailing  cheerfuhiess  that  he  seemed  to 
move  and  breathe  in  an  atmosphere  of  hilarity,  which  indeed  his  coun- 
tenance alvi^ays  indicated,  except  when  the  pain  in  his  back  affected  his 
spirits,  and  caused  his  imagination  to  dwell  upon  the  evils  of  Cam- 
bridgeshire scenery. 

This  was,  in  his  case,  far  from  a  hypothetical  grievance.  It  seriously 
diminished  his  happiness  at  Cambridge,  and  at  length  was  the  main 
cause  of  his  quitting  it.  In  one  of  my  early  interviews  with  him,  before 
I  had  been  a  month  at  that  place,  he  said  to  me,  "  What  do  you  think 
of  Cambridge,  sir"!" — "  It  is  a  very  interesting  place." — "  Yes,  the 
place  where  Bacon,  and  Barrow,  and  Newton  studied,  and  where  Jeremy 
Taylor  was  born,  cannot  but  be  interesting.  But  that  is  not  what  I 
mean ;  what  do  you  say  to  the  scenery,  sir  !" — "  Some  of  the  public 
buildings  are  very  striking,  and  the  college  walks  very  pleasing ;  but — " 
and  there  I  hesitated :  he  immediately  added,  "  But  there  is  nothing 
else  to  be  said.  What  do  you  think  of  the  surrounding  country,  sir  ] 
Does  not  it  strike  you  as  very  insipid  V — "  No,  not  precisely  so." 
"  Ay,  ay :  I  had  forgotten ;  you  come  from  a  flat  country ;  yet  you 
must  love  hills;  there  are  no  hills  here."  I  replied,  "  Yes,  there  are; 
there  are  Madingley  hill,  and  the  Castle  hill,  and  Gogmagog  hill."  This 
amused  him  exceedingly,  and  he  said,  "  Why,  as  to  Madingley,  there 
is  something  in  that ;  it  reminds  you  of  the  Cottons,  and  the  Cottonian 
Library ;  but  that  is  not  because  Madingley  is  a  high  hiU,  but  because 
Sir  Robert  Cotton  was  a  great  man  ;  and  even  he  was  not  born  there. 
Then,  as  to  your  second  example,  do  you  know  that  the  Castle  hill  is 
the  place  of  the  public  executions  ?  that  is  no  very  pleasant  association, 
sir ;  and  as  to  your  last  example,  Gogmagog  hill  is  five  miles  off,  and 
many  who  go  there  are  puzzled  to  say  whether  it  is  natural  or  artificial. 
'Tis  a  dismally  flat  country,  sir;  dismally  flat.*  Ely  is  twelve  miles 
distant,  but  the  road  from  Cambridge  thither  scarcely  deviates  twelve 
inches  from  the  same  level ;  and  thafs  not  very  interesting.  Before  I 
came  to  Cambridge  I  had  read  in  the  prize  poems,  and  in  some  other 
works  of  fancy,  of  '  the  banks  of  the  Cam,'  of  '  the  sweetly  flowing 
stream,'  and  so  on ;  but  when  I  arrived  here  I  was  sadly  disappointed. 
When  I  first  saw  the  river  as  I  passed  over  King's  College  Bridge,  I 
could  not  help  exclaiming,  Why,  the  stream  is  standing  still  to  see 
people  drown  themselves !  and  that,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  a  perma- 
nent feehng  with  me."  I  questioned  the  correctness  of  this  impression, 
but  he  immediately  rejoined,  "  Shocking  place  for  the  spirits,  sir ;  I 
wish  you  may  not  find  it  so ;  it  must  be  the  very  focus  of  suicides. 
W^ere  you  ever  at  Bristol,  sir  ]  there  is  scenery,  scenery  worth  looking 
upon,  and  worth  thinking  of:  and  so  there  is  even  at  Aberdeen,  with 
all  its  surrounding  barrenness.  The  trees  on  the  banks  of  the  Don  are 
as  fine  as  those  on  the  banks  of  the  Cam ;  and  the  river  is  alive,  sir ; 
it  falls  over  precipices,  and  foams  and  dashes,  so  as  to  invigorate  and 
inspire  those  who  witness  it.  The  Don  is  a  river,  sir,  and  the  Severn 
is  a  river ;  but  not  even  a  poet  would  so  designate  the  Cam,  unless  by 
an  obvious  figure  he  termed  it  the  sleeping  river." 

The  semi-playful  and  rapid  manner  in  which  he  uttered  things  of  this 

*  On  Mr.  Hall's  last  visit  to  Cambridge,  one  of  his  friends  took  him  out  for  a  morning's  ride,  and 
showed  him  the  improvements  as  to  cultivation,  by  means  of  new  enclosures,  &c.  "  True,"  said 
he,  "  but  still  there  is  that  odious  flatness,  that  insipid  sameness  of  scenery  all  around."  Then, 
with  a  tone  of  great  seriousness,  he  added,  "T  always  say  of  my  Cambridge  friends,  when  I  witness 
their  conteiuedness  in  such  a  country,  '  Herein  is  the  lailh  and  patience  of  the  saints  '.'  My  faith 
and  patience  could  not  sustain  me  under  it,  with  the  unvarying  kindness  of  my  friends  in  addition." 

On  another  morning  ride  his  companion  said,  "  Look  at  these  fields,  with  the  crops  of  com  so 
emooth  and  so  abundant ;  are  not  they  pleasant  ?  and  do  they  not  excite  the  idea  of  plenty  ■?"  He 
rejoined,  with  his  usual  promptness,  "  Oh  '.  yes  ;  and  so  does  a  large  meal-tub  filled  to  the  brim. 
But  I  was  not  thinkiQg  of  plenty,  but  of  beauty." 


30  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

kind,  did  not  always  conceal  the  deep  feeling  of  incurable  and  growing 
dislike  with  which  he  was  struggling. 

When  I  first  became  known  to  Mr.  Hall,  he  had  recently  determined 
to  revise  and  extend  his  knowledge  in  every  department,  "  to  re-arrange 
the  whole  furniture  of  his  mind,  and  the  economy  of  his  habits,"  and  to 
become  a  thorough  student.  He  proposed  devotnig  six  hours  a  day  to 
reading;  but  these,  unless  his  friends  sought  after  him,  were  often 
extended  to  eight  or  nine.  He  thougiit  himself  especially  defective  in 
a  tasteful  and  critical  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  poets;  and  said  he 
should  "  once  more  begin  at  the  beginning."  He  set  to  work,  therefore, 
upon  the  best  treatises  on  the  Greek  metres  then  extant.  He  next  read 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  twice  over,  critically;  proceeded  with  equal  care 
through  nearly  all  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides  ;  and  thence 
extended  his  classical  reading  in  all  directions.  To  the  Latin  and 
Greek  poets,  orators,  historians,  and  philosophers  he  devoted  a  part 
of  every  day,  for  three  or  four  years.  He  studied  them  as  a  scholar, 
but  he  studied  them  also  as  a  moralist  and  a  philosopher;  so  that,  while 
he  appreciated  their  peculiarities  and  beauties  with  his  wonted  taste, 
and  carefully  improved  his  style  of  writing  and  his  tone  of  thinking,  by 
the  best  models  whicli  tliey  present,  he  suffered  them  not  to  deteriorate 
the  accuracy  of  his  Judgment  in  comparing  their  value  with  that  f)f  the 
moderns.  Perhaps,  however,  this  assertion  shuuld  be  a  little  qualified  : 
for,  not  only  at  the  period  of  which  I  am  now  speaking,  but,  in  great 
measure,  through  life,  while  he  spoke  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  in 
accordance  with  the  sentiments  and  feelings  of  every  competent  classi- 
cal scholar,  he,  with  very  few  exceptions,  unduly  depreciated  the  poetry 
of  the  present  times. 

Much  as  he  delighted  in  classical  literature,  he  was  by  no  means 
inclined,  nor  could  he  have  reconciled  it  with  his  notions  of  duty,  to 
circumscribe  his  reading  within  its  limits.  The  early  Chwstian  fathers, 
the  fathers  of  the  Reformation,  the»  theological  writers,  both  puritan 
and  episcopalian,  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  most  valuable  authors 
on  all  similar  topics  down  to  the  present  time,  including  the  most 
esteemed  French  preachers,  were  all  perused  vvitii  his  characteristic 
avidity :  what  was  most  valuable  in  them  became  fixed  in  his  unusually 
retentive  memory  ;  and  numerous  marginal  and  other  references  in  the 
most  valuable  of  Jiis  books  prove  at  once  the  minuteness  and  closeness 
of  his  attention,  and  his  desire  to  direct  his  memory  to  the  substances 
of  thought,  and  not  unnecessarily  to  load  it  with  mere  apparatus. 

Like  many  other  men  of  letters,  Mr.  Hall,  at  this  period,  found  the 
advantage  of  passing  from  one  subject  to  another  at  short  intervals, 
generally  of  about  two  hours:  thus  casting  off  the  mental  fatigue  that 
one  subject  had  occasioned  by  directing  his  attention  to  another,  and 
thereby  preserving  the  intellect  in  a  state  of  elastic  energy  from  the 
beginning  to  tlie  end  of  the  time  devoted  daily  to  study. 

Not  long  after  he  had  entered  upon  this  steady  course  of  reading,  he 
commenced  the  study  of  Hebrew,  under  Mr.  Lyons,  who  then  taught 
that  langifaire  in  the  university.  He  soon  became  a  thorough  proficient 
in  it ;  and,  finding  it  greatly  to  increase  his  knowledge  of  tlie  Old  Testa- 
ment, as  well  as  of  its  relation  to  the  New,  and  considerably  to  improve 
and  enlarge  the  power  of  Scripture  interpretation,  he,  from  thence  to 
the  close  of  life,  suffered  scarcely  a  day  to  pass  without  reading  a 
portion  of  the  Old  Testament  in  the  original.  This  practice  llowed 
natur  illy  from  one  of  his  principles  of  action,  namely,  to  go  to  the 
fountain-head  for  information,  rather  than  to  derive  it  from  the  streams; 
and  from  the  continued  application  of  that  principle,  it  was  found  that 
his  habit  of  reading  originals  often  impaired  the  accuracy  of  his  quota- 


A*r  CAMBRIDGE.  31 

tidn  of*  passages  from  our  authorized  version,  having,  in  fact,  become 
hiore  famihar  with  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  texts  than  with  any  transla- 
tion. This,  which  was  often  conjectured  by  some  of  his  hearers  at 
Cambridge,  was  amply  confirmed  by  the  subsequent  observation  of  his 
intimate  and  much  esteemed  friend  Mr.  Ryley,  at  Leicester. 

It  would  be  useless  to  record,  even  briefly,  Mr.  Hall's  opinions  of  the 
numerous  authors,  ancient  and  modern,  which  he  read  at  this  period 
with  such  close  attention,  since  they  accord  generally  with  those  of  all 
men  of  correct  taste  and  sound  ju(]gment.  Yet  perhaps  I  may  state, 
with  regard  to  his  chief  uninspired  favourite  among  the  Greek  writers, 
that  to  none  of  the  ornaments  of  pagan  antiquity  did  he  refer  in  such 
terms  of  fervid  eulogy  as  to  Plato.  Not  Cudworth  himself  could 
appreciate  him  more  highly.  He  often  expressed  his  astonishment  at 
the  neglect  into  which  he  apprehended  the  writmgs  of  Plato  were  sink- 
ing ;  and  said,  that  an  entire  disregard  of  them  would  be  an  irrefragable 
proof  of  a  shallow  age.  Milton,  he  remarked,  gave  the  noblest  proofs, 
in  his  prose  writings,  of  a  knowledge  and  love  of  Plato;  and  he  ex- 
pressed a  surprise,  almost  bordering  upon  contempt,  in  reference  to 
those  who  classed  this  wonderful  nun  with  the  schoolmen.  It  was  his 
frequent  remark,  that  even  when  Plato  wrote  upon  the  most  abstract 
subjects,  whether  moral,  metaphysical,  or  mathematical,  his  style  was 
as  clear  as  the  purest  stream,  and  that  his  diction  was  deeply  imbued 
with  the  poetic  spirit.  On  occasions  u'hen  he  ran  no  risk  of  the  charge 
of  pedantry,  he  would,  by  appropriate  quotations,  confirm  these  views. 
He  delighted  to  expatiate  upon  this  philosopher's  notions  of  vice  and 
virtue,  of  idleness  and  industry;  and  often  adduced  the  Platonic  defini- 
tion of  education,  as  "  that  which  qualifies  men  to  be  good  citizens,  and 
renders  them  fit  to  govern  or  to  obey."  On  one  occasion  he  pointed  to 
a  passage,  in  the  first  Republic,  I  think,  from  which  it  appeared  that 
Plato  perceived  the  advantages  resulting  from  the  subdivision  of  labour, 
and  suggested  the  natural  progress  of  such  subdivision  in  proportion  to 
the  advance  of  civilization. 

In  speaking  of  this  philosopher,  Mr.  Hall  illustrated  his  view  of  the 
evil  of  studying  a  Greek  author  with  the  aid  of  a  Latin  version,  by  a 
reference  to  Scrranus's  magnificent  edition  of  his  works,  in  the  Latin 
version  of  which  he  said  he  had  often  detected  errors.  He  also  men- 
tioned a  ridiculous  blunder  of  one  of  the  English  translators,  who  had, 
it  seems,  availed  himself  of  a  Latin  version,  in  which,  as  was  customary 
two  or  three  hundred  years  ago,  the  omission  of  an  m  or  an  n  was 
indicated  by  a  bar  placed  over  the  preceding  letter.  Disregarding  this 
superposed  bar,  the  translator  had  read  hirudo  instead  of  hirundo,  and 
thus,  upon  Plato's  authority,  declared  the  horse-leech,  instead  of  the 
swallow,  to  be  the  harbinger  of  the  spring  ! 

I  have  dwelt  rather  longer  upon  these  topics  than  would  be  at  all 
necessary,  were  it  not  to  correct  the  notion  which  some  persons  have 
entertained,  that  Mr.  Hall  was  indolent,  and  that  though  when  stimulated 
to  the  effort,  he  would  exert  himself  as  a  profound  thmker,  yet  he  was 
not  a  man  of  research,  or,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation,  a  good  scholar. 

When  Mr.  Hall  proposed  that  we  should  devote  an  hour  every  morn- 
ing to  reading  together,  he  asked  me  to  assist  him  in  his  mathematical 
studies,  adding  :hat  as  a  matter  of  mutual  advantage,  it  might  be  well 
that,  on  alternate  mornings,  I  should  be  his  mathematical  tutor,  and  he 
my  instructer  in  metaphysics.  To  this  proposal  I  gladly  assented ; 
and  it  has  long  been  my  persuasion  that  the  scheme  flowed  in  great 
measure  from  his  desire  to  call  my  attention  to  general  literature,  and 
especially  to  the  science  of  mind. 

At  that  period,  though  he  was  strong  and  active,  he  often  siiffered 


32  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

extremely  from  the  pain  to  which  I  have  before  adverted,  and  which 
was  his  sad  companion  through  hfe.  On  entering  his  room  to  com- 
mence our  reading,  I  could  at  once  tell  whether  or  not  his  night  had 
been  refreshing;  for,  if  it  had,  I  found  him  at  the  table,  the  books  to  be 
studied  ready,  and  a  vacant  chair  set  for  me.  If  his  night  had  been 
restless,  and  tlie  pain  still  continued,  I  found  him  lying  on  the  sofa,  or 
more  frequently  upon  three  chairs,  on  whicli  he  could  obtain  an  easier 
position.  At  such  seasons,  scarcely  ever  did  a  complaint  issue  from 
his  lips ;  but,  inviting  me  to  take  the  sofa,  our  reading  commenced. 
They,  however,  who  knew  Mr.  Hall  can  conjecture  how  often,  if  he 
became  interested,  he  would  raise  himself  from  the  chairs,  utter  a  few 
animated  expressions,  and  then  resume  the  favourite  reclining  posture. 
Sometimes,  when  he  was  suffering  more  than  usual,  he  proposed  a  walk 
in  the  fields,  where,  with  the  appropriate  book  as  our  companion,  we 
could  pursue  the  subject.  If  he  was  the  preceptor,  as  was  commonly 
the  case  in  these  peripatetic  lectures,  he  soon  lost  the  sense  of  pain, 
and  nearly  as  soon  escaped  from  our  author,  whoever  he  might  be,  and 
expatiated  at  large  upon  some  train  of  inquiry  or  explication  which  our 
course  of  reading  had  suggested.  As  his  thoughts  enkindled,  both  his 
steps  and  his  words  became  quicker,  until,  ere  long,  it  was  difficult  to 
say  whether  the  body  or  the  mind  were  brought  most  upon  the  stretch 
in  keeping  up  with  him.  This  peculiarity  I  have  noticed  in  a  few  other 
men  of  vigorous  intellect  and  lively  imagination. 

Mr.  Hall's  avowed  object  in  recurring  at  all  to  his  mathematical 
studies  was,  the  acquisition  of  so  much  geometry,  trigonometry,  and 
conic  sections  as  would  enable  him  tlioroughly  to  comprehend  the 
entire  scope  of  the  reasoning  in  Maclaurin's  "  Account  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton's  Philosophical  Discoveries."  For  this,  indeed,  his  college 
studies  had  in  a  great  measure  prepared  him ;  and  there  would  have 
been  but  little  to  learn,  could  he  have  been  satisfied  to  proceed  as 
students  often  do.  But  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  advance,  unless  he 
ascertained  the  firmness  of  the  ground  at  every  step.  He  reasoned 
philosophically,  for  instance,  upon  the  nature  of  ratios  and  proportions ; 
so  that  we  had  to  clear  our  way  through  the  recondite  lectures  of  Bar- 
row relative  to  those  paints,  before  we  could  advance  to  trigonometry. 
His  logical  habits,  also,  made  him  very  reluctant  to  pass  over  any 
geometrical  proposition  in  which  he  could  not  trace  the  analysis  as 
well  as  the  synthesis.  In  this  manner,  and  with  such  views,  we  went 
through  the  proposed  course.  Of  what  utility  all  this  was  ultimately 
to  Mr.  Hall  I  cannot  precisely  say ;  but  1  can  testify  that  it  was  of 
permanent  advantage  to  his  mathematical  preceptor,  who  had  not  pre- 
viously formed  the  habit  of  tracing  apparent  results  to  their  foundations; 
but  who,  from  that  period,  pursued  science  with  a  new  interest,  kept 
his  eye  more  steadily  upon  ultimate  i.'rinciples,  and  learned  to  value  such 
researches  quite  as  much  for  their  intellectual  disciphn-e  as  for  their 
practical  benefit.* 

In  reference  to  the  pliilosophy  of  mind,  after  we  had  gone  slightly 
over  Locke's  Essay,  his  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  and  Watts's 
Ontology,  which  I  had  read  before,  we  studied  Berkeley,  WoUaston, 

*  Shortly  after  my  removal  to  Woolwich,  1  invited  my  late  valued  friend  Dr.  Iluttnn  to  dine  with 
Mr.  Hall  at  my  house.  Mr.  Hall,  tor  the  purjKJsc  of  drawing  tin;  doctor  into  conversation,  asked  him 
a  few  questions  su<;Kested  by  some  of  liarrovv'.s  disquisitions  in  reference  to  mathematical  measure, 
and  its  application  to  force,  moinenliim,  &.c.  They  essentially  involved  the  metaphysics  o(  the  sub- 
jects of  ini|Uiry.  lie  al.snexpaliiited  upon  the  imaginative  as  well  as  the  rational  process  involved 
111  the  genesis  of  curves  hj  iiioiiDii,  as  t;iu;,'hl  by  Barrow  and  Newton.  The  next  day  Dr.  HultoD 
said  to  me,  "  What  an  extraordinary  man  that  firiend  of  yours  is  I  Why,  he  was  born  to  be  a 
mathematician.  If  you  could  persuade  tiiiii  to  give  himaeli*  up  lo  the  sciences,  aa  ftiestley  did,  ha 
would  teach  us  all  something." 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  gSf 

Hartley,  Andrew  Baxter,  Reid,  some  portions  of  Bacon's  Essays,  and 
of  his  Treatise  on  the  Advancement  of  Learning ;  or  rather,  I  should 
say,  I  had  the  advantage  of  learning  what  was  most  or  least  valuable  in 
each  and  all  of  these,  from  this  admirable  living  commentator.  We 
were  about  to  proceed  to  Search's  (Abraham  Tucker's)  "  Light  of 
Nature,"*  when  some  circumstances,  which  I  cannot  recall  to  mind,- 
rendered  it  inconvenient  for  us  thus  to  meet,  and  brought  these  de- 
lightful readings  and  commentaries  to  a  close.  We  did  not  then  go 
through  any  of  Dugald  Stewart's  works,  Mr.  Hall  regarding  him  as  an 
elegant  expositor  of  Reid,  but  greatly  inferior  in  origmality.  From 
Bacon's  Essays  he  used  to  read  passages  aloud,  with  the  warmest 
expressions  of  commendation. 

I  must  not  omit  to  specify,  as  a  peculiarity  in  the  structure  of  Mr. 
Hall's  mind,  that  although  in  every  important  case  he  detected,  and 
placed  in  the  utmost  prominence,  an  essential  defect  in  the  reasonings 
a  too  rapid  generalization,  or  any  other  unwarrantable  deduction,  that 
occurred  in  Berkeley,  or  Watts,  or  Hartley,  he  was  very  slow  to  per- 
ceive, very  reluctant  to  admit,  any  such  in  the  writings  of  Andrew 
Baxter.  The  reader  who  is  conversant  with  such  speculations  will 
recollect,  that  in  the  second  volume  of  Baxter's  book  on  "  the  Soul," 
he  affirms  that  our  dreams  are  prompted  by  separate  immaterial  beings, 
and  defends  his  theory  with  much  ingenuity.  As  we  advanced  in 
Baxter's  arguments,  Mr.  Hall  exclaimed,  "This  is  very  beautiful,  sir; 
yet  I  apprehend  there  must  be  some  flaw  in  the  reasoning."  I  suggested 
one  or  two  objections ;  he  showed  immediately  that  they  could  not 
apply.  On  our  next  meeting  he  accosted  me  with,  "  Well,  sir,  have 
you  detected  any  fallacy  in  Baxter's  theory  V — "  Yes,  I  think  I  have." 
This,  however,  was  soon  disposed  of,  and  then  another,  and  another. 
I  at  length  referred  to  Dugald  Stewart's  theory,  after  examining  whichj 
he  said,  "  I  do  not  think  this  is  tenable  ;  but  I  suppose  it  must  be  ad.* 
mitted  that  Baxter  does  not  quite  make  out  his  case.  Yet  he  was  a  man 
of  great  acumen — why  did  the  Scotch  philosophers  rim  him  down  soV 

Still  further  to  illustrate  Mr.  Hall's  character,  his  turn  of  tliought  and 
expression,  I  will  now  bring  together  a  few  such  incidents  and  short 
remarks,  occurring  between  1796  and  1803,  as  present  themselves  most 
vividly  to  my  mind. 

It  will  already  have  appeared  that  benevolence  was  a  prevailing  characteristic. 
When  he  had  aided  a  poor  man  to  the  full  extent  of  his  own  pecuniary  means,  he 

would  sometimes  apply  to  one  of  his  affluent  friends.     "  Poor is  in  great 

distress :  some  of  his  family  are  ill,  and  he  cannot  supply  proper  necessaries. 
Lend  me  five  shillings  for  the  poor  fellow  :  I  will  pay  you  again  in  a  fortnight, 
unless  in  the  mean  time  you  find  that  the  case  deserves  your  help,  and  then  the 
donation  shall  become  yours." 

His  disapprobation  of  avarice  bore  a  natural  relatioij  to  his  own  benevolence. 
Being  informed  that  a  rich  man  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  was  by  no  means  cele- 
brated for  his  liberality,  had  attended  to  a  tale  of  distress  without  relieving  it,  he 
said,  "  Yes,  yes  :  he  would  listen,  but  without  inclining  his  head.  He  may  lend 
a  distant  ear  to  the  murmurings  from  the  vale  beneath,  but  he  remains  like  a 
mountain  covered  with  perpetual  snow." 

On  another  occasion,  a  person  talking  to  him  of  one  whom  they  both  knew,  and 
who  was  very  penurious,  said,  "  Poor  wretch  !  you  might  put  his  soul  into  a  nut- 
shell."— "  Yes,  sir,"  Mr.  Hall  replied,  "  and  even  then  it  would  creep  out  at  a 
maggot  hole." 

His  love  of  sincerity  in  words  and  actions  was  constantly  ajiparent.  Once, 
while  he  was  spending  an  evening  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  a  lady  who  was  there 

*  Mr.  Hall  characterized  this  as  a  work  in  which  the  noblest  philosophy  was  brought  down  by  a 
master- hand,  and  placed  within  the  reach  of  every  man  of  sound  understanding. 
Vol.  HL— 3 


34  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

on  a  visit,  retired,  that  her  little  girl,  of  four  years  old,  might  go  to  bed.  She 
returned  in  about  half  an  hour,  and  said  to  a  lady  near  her,  "  She  is  gone  to  sleep. 
I  put  on  my  night-cap,  and  lay  down  by  her,  and  she  soon  dropped  off."  Mr.  Hall, 
who  overheard  this,  said,  "  Excuse  me,  madam  :  do  you  wish  your  child  to 
grow  up  a  liar  1" — "  Oh  dear  no,  sir ;  I  should  be  shocked  at  such  a  thing." — "  Then 
bear  with  me  while  I  say,  you  must  never  act  a  lie  before  her  :  children  are  very 
quick  observers,  and  soon  learn  that  that  which  assumes  to  be  what  it  is  not  is  a 
lie,  whether  acted  or  spoken."  This  was  uttered  with  a  kindness  which  precluded 
offence,  yet  with  a  seriousness  that  could  not  be  forgotten. 

His  dislike  to  compliments  was  thus  expressed  : — "  In  compliments  two  and 
two  do  not  make  four  ;  and  twenty  and  twenty  fall  very  far  short  of  forty.  Deal 
not,  then,  in  that  deceitful  arithmetic." 

It  was  said  in  Mr.  Hall's  hearing  that  "  compliments  were  pleasing  truths,  and 
flatteries  pleasing  untruths."  He  remarked — "  Neither  of  them  are  -pleasing  to  a 
man  of  reflection,  for  the  falsehoods  in  this  case  so  nearly  assume  the  semblance 
of  truth,  that  one  is  perplexed  to  tell  which  is  actually  given  ;  and  no  man  is 
pleased  with  perplexity." 

"  You  remember  Mr. ,  sir."* — "  Yes,  very  well." — "  Were  you  aware  of 

his  fondness  for  brandy  and  water?' — "  No." — "  It  was  a  sad  habit ;  but  it  grew 
out  of  his  love  of  story-telling  ;  and  that  also  is  a  bad  habit,  a  very  bad  habit  for 
a  minister  of  the  gospel.  As  he  grew  old,  his  animal  spirits  flagged,  and  his 
stories  became  defective  in  vivacity  :  he  therefore  took  to  brandy  and  water ;  weak 
enough,  it  is  true,  at  first,  but  soon  nearly  '  half-and-half.'  Ere  long  he  indulged 
the  habit  in  a  morning ;  and  when  he  came  to  Cambridge  he  would  call  upon  me, 
and  before  he  had  been  with  me  five  minutes  ask  for  a  little  brandy  and  water, 
which  was,  of  course,  to  give  him  artificial  spirits  to  render  him  agreeable  in  his 
visits  to  others.  I  felt  great  difficulty  ;  for  he,  you  know,  sir,  was  much  older 
than  I  was  ;  yet,  being  persuaded  that  the  ruin  of  his  character,  if  not  of  his 
peace,  was  inevitable,  unless  something  was  done,  I  resolved  upon  one  strong 
efl'brt  for  his  rescue.  So  the  next  time  that  he  called,  and,  as  usual,  said, 
'Friend  Hall,  I  will  thank  you  for  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,'  I  replied,  'Call 
things  by  their  right  names,  and  you  shall  have  as  much  as  you  please.' — '  Why, 
don't  I  employ  the  right  name  1  I  ask  for  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.' — '  That 
is  the  current,  but  not  the  appropriate  name  ;  ask  for  a  glass  of  liquid  fire  and 
distilled  damnation,  and  you  shall  have  a  gallon.'  Poor  man,  he  turned  pale,  and 
for  a  moment  seemed  struggling  with  anger.  But,  knowing  that  I  did  not  mean 
to  insult  him,  he  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Brother  Hall,  I  thank  you 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.'  From  that  time  he  ceased  to  take  brandy  and 
water." 

In  one  of  my  early  interviews  with  Mr.  Hall,  I  used  the  word  felicity  three  or 
four  times  in  ratlicr  quick  succession.  He  asked,  "  Why  do  you  say  felicity,  sir  ? 
Happiness  is  a  better  word,  more  musical,  and  genuine  English,  coming  from  the 
Saxon." — "  Not  more  musical,  I  think,  sir." — "  Yes,  more  musical,  and  so  are 
words  derived  from  the  Saxon  generally.  Listen,  sir :  '  My  heart  is  smitten  and 
withered  like  grass ;'  there's  plaintive  music.  Listen  again,  sir :  '  Under  the 
shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  rejoice  ;'  there's  cheerful  music." — "  Yes,  but  rejoice 
is  French." — "  True,  but  all  the  rest  is  Saxon,  and  rejoice  is  almost  out  of  tune 
with  the  other  words.  Listen  again  :  '  Thou  hast  delivered  my  eyes  from  tears, 
my  soul  from  death,  and  my  feet  from  falling ;'  all  Saxon,  sir,  except  delivered. 
I  could  think  of  the  word  tear,  sir,  till  I  wept.  Then  again,  for  another  noble 
specimen,  and  almost  all  good  old  Saxon-English :  '  Surely  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life  ;  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
for  ever.' " 

Shortly  after  this  I  was  reading  the  original  edition  of  Doddridge's  Pneumato- 
logy,  and  asked  Mr.  Hall  to  lend  me  Kippis's  edition,  in  which  the  references  to 
other  authorities,  on  the  various  topics  discussed,  are  greatly  increased.  He  told 
me  that  he  did  not  possess  Kippis's  edition,  in  a  tone  which  then  surprised  me  a 
little,  as  it  showed  that  he  did  not  Iiighly  estimate    Kippis's  authority.     I  there- 

*  This  was  the  individual  referred  to,  p.  215. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  35 

fore  asked,  "  Was  not  Dr.  Kippis  a  clever  man  ?" — "  He  might  be  a  very  clever  man 
by  nature^  for  aught  I  know,  but  he  laid  so  many  books  upon  his  head  that  his 
brains  could  not  move."  This  was  to  me,  who,  at  that  period,  devoted  much 
more  time  to  reading  than  to  thinking,  an  admirable  lesson. 

On  being  asked  whether  he  was  an  Arminian  or  a  Calvinist,  he  said,  "  Neither, 
sir,  but  I  believe  I  recede  further  from  Arminianism  than  from  Calvinism.  If  a 
man  profess  himself  a  decided  Arminian,  I  infer  from  it  that  he  is  not  a  good 
logician  ;  but,  sir,  it  does  not  interfere  with  his  personal  piety  ;  look  at  good  Mr. 
Benson,  for  example.     I  regard  the  question  more  as  metaphysical  than  religious." 

A  lady  who  had  been  speaking  of  the  Supreme  Being  with  great  familiarity,  but 
in  religious  phraseology,  having  retired,  he  said,  "  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  cure  that 
good  lady  of  her  bad  habit.  I  have  tried,  but  as  yet  in  vain.  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  afl'ect  this  kind  of  familiarity  with  the  King  of  kings,  and  speak  of  him  as 
though  he  were  a  next-door  neighbour,  from  the  pretence  of  love.  Mr.  Boyle's 
well-known  habit  was  infinitely  to  be  commended.  And  one  of  our  old  divines,  I 
forget  which,  well  remarks  that,  '  Nothing  but  ignorance  can  be  guilty  of  this 
boldness  ;  that  there  is  no  divinity  but  in  an  humble  fear,  no  piiilosoph}'  but  shows 
itself  in  silent  admiration.'  " 

When  two  or  three  gentlemen  were  discussing  the  question,  whether  a  man  of 
no  religion  can  be  a  successful  minister  of  the  gospel,  surprise  was  expressed  that 
Mr.  Hall  remained  silent,  "  Sir,"  said  he,  in  reply,  "  I  would  not  deny  that  a  sermon 
from  a  bad  man  may  sometimes  do  good  ;  but  the  general  question  does  not  admit 
of  an  argument.  Is  it  at  all  probable,  that  one  who  is  a  willing  servant  of  Satan 
(and  that,  you  know,  sir,  is  the  hypothesis  you  assume)  will  fight  against  him 
with  all  his  might,  and  if  not,  what  success  can  be  rationally  expected?"* 

Mr.  Hall  did  not  permit  his  sedulous  cultivation  of  the  mind  to  draw 
him  aside  from  the  cultivation  of  the  heart.  The  evidences  were, 
mdeed,  very  strong,  that  his  preparation  for  ministerial  duty  was  devo- 
tional as  well  as  intellectual.  Thus,  his  public  services,  by  a  striking 
gradation,  for  months  and  years,  evinced  an  obvious  growth  in  mental 
power,  in  literary  acquisition,  and  in  the  seriousness,  affection,  and 
ardour  of  a  man  of  piety.  His  usefulness  and  his  popularity  increased ; 
the  church  and  congregation  became  considerably  augmented ;  and  in 
1798  it  was  found  necessary  to  enlarge  the  place  of  worship  to  accom 
modate  about  two  hundred  more  persons. 

Early  in  the  year  1799,  a  severe  fever,  which  brought  him,  in  his  own 
apprehension,  and  that  of  his  friends,  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  gave  him 
an  opportunity  of  experiencing  the  support  yielded  by  the  doctrines  of 
the  Cross "  in  the  near  views  of  death  and  judgment."  He  "never 
before  felt  his  mind  so  calm  and  happy."  The  impression  was  not  only 
salutary,  but  abiding;  and  it  again  prompted  him  to  the  investigation 
of  one  or  two  points,  with  regard  to  which  he  had  long  felt  himself 
floating  in  uncertainty.  Although  he  had  for  some  years  steadily  and 
earnestly  enforced  the  necessity  of  Divine  influence  in  the  transforma- 
tion of  character,  and  in  perseverance  in  a  course  of  consistent, 
holy  obedience,  yet  he  spoke  of  it  as  "  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,"  and  never  in  express  terms  as  "  the  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit."  The  reason  was,  that  though  he  fully  believed  the  necessity  of 
spiritual  agency  in  commencing  and  continuing  the  spiritual  life,  he 
doubted  the  doctrine  of  the  distinct  personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  But 
about  this  time  he  was  struck  with  tlie  fact  that,  whenever  nx  private 
prayer  he  was  in  the  most  deeply  devotional  frame,  "most  over- 
whelmed with  the  sense  that  he  was  nothing,  and  God  was  all  in  all," 
he  always  felt  himself  inclined  to  adopt  a  Trinitarian  doxology.  This 
circumstance,  occurring  frequently,  and  more  frequently  meditated  upon 

*  A  few  more  miscellaneous  gleanings  from  Mr.  Hall's  remaAs  in  conversation  axe  inserted  in 
Appendix,  Note  A. 

3* 


36  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

in  a  tone  of  honest  and  anxious  inquiry,  issued  at  length  in  a  persuasion 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  really  and  truly  God,  and  not  an  emanation.  It 
was  not,  however,  until  1800  that  he  pubhcly  included  the  personal- 
ity of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  statements  of  the  doctrine  of  spiritual 
influence. 

In  attempting  to  give  some  idea  of  the  general  character  and  style  of 
Mr.  Hall's  public  services,  while  I  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  him  at 
Cambridge,  I  feel  that  I  shall  neither  adequately  describe  what  his 
preaching  really  was,  nor  even  do  justice  to  my  own  conceptions  of  it. 

His  manner  of  reading  the  Scriptures  at  the  beginning  of  the  service 
was  not  generally  interesting ;  nor  did  the  portion  read  always  bear  an 
obvious  reference  to  the  text  or  subject  afterward  brought  forward. 
But  when  passages  of  Scripture  were  quoted  in  the  sermon,  they  were 
so  delivered  as  to  give  to  their  true  meaning  the  most  intelligible  promi- 
nence and  force. 

His  prayers  were  remarkable  for  their  simplicity  and  their  devotional 
feeling.  No  person  could  listen  to  them  without  being  persuaded  that 
he  who  uttered  them  was  really  engaged  in  prayer,  was  holding  com- 
munion with  his  God  and  Father  in  Christ  Jesus.  His  tones  and  his 
countenance  throughout  these  exercises  were  those  of  one  most  deeply 
imbued  with  a  sense  of  his  unworthiness,  and  throwing  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  Great  Eternal,  conscious  that  he  could  present  no  claim  for 
a  single  blessing  but  the  blood  of  atonement,  yet  animated  by  the 
cheering  hope  that  the  voice  of  that  blood  would  prevail.  The  struc- 
ture of  these  prayers  never  indicated  any  preconceived  plan.  They 
were  the  genuine  effusions  of  a  truly  devotional  spirit,  animated  by  a 
vivid  recollection  of  what  in  his  own  state,  in  that  of  the  congregation, 
of  the  town  and  vicinity,  needed  most  ardently  to  be  laid  before  the 
Father  of  Mercies.  Thus  they  wei-e  remarkably  comprehensive,  and 
furnished  a  far  greater  variety  on  the  successive  occasions  of  public 
worship,  than  tbose  of  any  other  minister  whom  I  have  ever  known. 
The  portions  which  were  devoted  to  intercession  operated  most 
happily  in  drawing  the  affections  of  his  people  towards  himself;  since 
they  showed  how  completely  his  Christian  sympathy  had  prepared  him 
to  make  their  respective  cases  his  own. 

The  commencement  of  his  sermons  did  not  excite  much  expectation 
in  strangers,  except  they  were  such  as  recollected  how  the  mental  agi- 
tation, produced  by  diffidence,  characterized  the  first  sentences  of  some 
of  the  orators  of  antiquity.  He  began  with  hesitation,  and  often  in  a 
very  low  and  feeble  tone,  coughing  frequently,  as  thougli  he  were 
oppressed  by  asthmatic  obstructions.  As  he  proceeded,  his  manner 
became  easy,  graceful,  and  at  length  highly  impassioned  ;  his  voice  also 
acquired  more  flexibility,  body,  and  sweetness,  and  in  all  his  hapi)ier  and 
more  successful  eflbrts,  swelled  into  a  stream  of  the  most  touching 
and  impressive  melody.  The  further  he  advanced,  the  more  sponta- 
neous, natural,  and  free  from  labour  seemed  the  progression  of  thought. 
He  announced  the  results  of  the  most  extensive  reading,  of  the  most 
patient  investigation,  or  of  the  profoundest  thinking,  with  such  un- 
assuming simplicity,  yet  set  them  in  such  a  position  of  obvious  and 
lucid  reality,  that  the  auditors  wondered  how  things  so  simple  and  mani- 
fest should  have  escaped  them.  Throughout  his  sermons  he  kept  his 
subject  thoroughly  in  view,  and  so  incessantly  brought  forward  new 
arguments,  or  new  illustrations,  to  confirm  or  to  explain  it,  that  with 
him  amplification  was  almost  invariably  accumulative  in  its  tendency. 
One  thought  was  succeeded  by  another,  and  that  by  another  and 
another,  each  more  weighty  than  the  preceding,  each  more  calculated 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  37 

to  deepen  and  render  permanent  the  ultimate  impression.  He  could  at 
pleasure  adopt  the  unadorned,  the  ornamental,  or  the  energetic  ;  and 
indeed  combine  them  in  every  diversity  of  modulation.  In  his  higher 
flights,  what  he  said  of  Burke  might,  with  the  slightest  deduction,  be 
applied  to  himself — "  that  his  imperial  fancy  laid  all  nature  under  tribute, 
and  collected  riches  from  every  scene  of  the  creation,  and  every  walk 
of  art  ;"*  and  at  the  same  time,  that  could  be  affirmed  of  Mr.  Hall  which 
could  not  be  affirmed  of  Mr.  Burke — that  he  never  fatigued  and  oppressed 
by  gaudy  and  superfluous  imagery.  Whenever  the  subject  obviously 
justified  it,  he  would  yield  the  reins  to  an  eloquence  more  diff"usive  and 
magnificent  than  the  ordinary  course  of  pulpit  instruction  seemed  to 
require ;  yet  so  exquisite  was  his  perception  of  beauty,  and  so  sound 
his  judgment,  that  not  the  coldest  taste,  provided  it  were  real  taste, 
could  ever  wish  an  image  omitted  which  Mr.  Hall  had  introduced.  His 
inexhaustible  variety  augmented  the  general  effect.  The  same  images, 
the  same  illustrations  scarcely  ever  recurred.  So  ample  were  his 
stores,  that  repetition  of  every  kind  was  usually  avoided  ;  while  in  his 
illustrations  he  would  connect  and  contrast  what  was  disjointed  and 
opposed,  or  distinctly  unfold  what  was  abstracted  or  obscure,  in  such 
terms  as  were  generally  intelligible,  not  only  to  the  well-informed  but 
to  the  meanest  capacity.  As  he  advanced  to  his  practical  applications, 
all  his  mental  powers  were  shown  in  the  most  palpable  but  finely 
balanced  exercise.  His  mind  would,  if  I  may  so  speak,  collect  itself 
and  come  forth  with  a  luminous  activity,  proving,  as  he  advanced,  how 
vast,  and,  in  some  important  senses,  how  next  to  irresistible  those 
powers  were.  In  such  seasons  his  preaching  communicated  universal 
animation :  his  congregation  would  seem  to  partalce  of  his  spirit,  to 
think  and  feel  as  he  did,  to  be  fully  influenced  by  the  presence  of  the 
objects  which  he  had  placed  before  them,  fully  actuated  by  the  motives 
which  he  had  enforced  with  such  energy  and  pathos. 

All  was  doubtless  heightened  by  his  singular  rapidity  of  utterance, — 
by  the  rhythmical  structure  of  his  sentences,  calculated  at  once  for  the 
transmission  of  the  most  momentous  truths,  for  the  powers  of  his  voice, 
and  for  the  convenience  of  breathing  freely  at  measured  intervals, — and, 
more  than  all,  by  the  unequivocal  earnestness  and  sincerity  which  per- 
vaded the  whole,  and  by  the  eloquence  of  his  most  speaking  counte- 
nance and  penetrating  eye.  In  his  sublimer  strains,  not  only  was  every 
faculty  of  the  soul  enkindled  and  in  entire  operation,  but  his  very  fea- 
tures seemed  fully  to  sympathize  with  the  spirit,  and  to  give  out,  nay, 
to  throio  out,  thought,  and  sentiment,  and  feeling. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  discourse  an  almost  breathless  silence 
prevailed,  deeply  impressive  and  solemnizing  from  its  singular  intense- 
ness.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  but  that  of  the  preacher's  voice — scarcely 
an  eye  but  was  fixed  upon  him — not  a  countenance  that  he  did  not  watch, 
and  read,  and  interpret,  as  he  surveyed  them  again  and  again  with  his 
rapid,  ever-excursive  glance.  As  he  advanced  and  increased  in  anima- 
tion, five  or  six  of  the  auditors  would  be  seen  to  rise  and  lean  forward 
over  the  front  of  their  pews,  still  keeping  their  eyes  upon  him.  Some 
new  or  striking  sentiment  or  expression  would,  in  a  few  minutes,  cause 
others  to  rise  in  like  manner :  shortly  afterward  still  more,  and  so  on, 
until,  long  before  the  close  of  the  sermon,  it  often  happened  that  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  congregation  were  seen  standing, — every  eye 
directed  to  the  preacher,  yet  now  and  then  for  a  moment  glancing  from 
one  to  another,  thus  transmitting  and  reciprocating  thought  and  feeling: 

*  See  vol.  ii.  p.  69. 


38  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Mr.  Hall  himself,  tlioiigh  manifestly  absorbed  in  his  subject,  conscious 
of  the  whole,  receiving  new  animation  from  what  he  thus  witnessed, 
reflecting  it  back  upon  those  who  w-ere  already  alive  to  the  inspiration, 
Until  all  that  were  susceptible  of  thought  and  emotion  seemed  womid 
up  to  the  utmost  limit  of  elevation  on  earth, — when  he  would  close,  and 
they  reluctantly  and  slowly  resume  their  seats.* 

Scenes  like  this  I  have  witnessed  repeatedly,  so  productive  of  intense 
and  hallowed  feehng,  that  after  an  interval  of  more  than  thirty  years 
they  present  themselves  to  my  mind  with  a  more  vivid  influence  than 
many  of  the  transactions  of  the  last  month. 

And  surely  the  delightful  retrospection  may  be  safely  indulged,  when 
it  is  considered  that  these  sublime  exertions  were  made  for  the  promo- 
tion of  man's  best  interests — to  warn  the  impenitent — to  show  to  the 
sinner  the  fatal  error  of  his  way — to  invite  the  self-condemned  to  the 
only,  the  all-eifectual  remedy — to  console  and  encourage  the  faithful 
— to  distribute  the  bread  of  life  among  those  who  must  otherwise  perish 
— to  "  build  up  the  church  in  her  most  holy  faith  ;"  when  it  is  known, 
also,  that  while  men  of  taste  and  intellect  were  both  gratified  and  in- 
structed, the  uncultivated  rustic  heard,  and  understood,  and  received  the 
Word  of  Life,  and  went  on  his  way  rejoicing.  Numerous  and  diversified 
as  were  the  feelings  excited  by  this  extraordinary  preacher,  none  were 
more  prevailing  than  surprise  that  one  so  richly  endowed  should  seem 
so  utterly  unconscious  of  it,  and  gratitude  that  the  Great  Head  of  the 
church  should  have  called  such  a  man  to  his  service,  and  placed  him  in 
so  important  a  station  as  Cambridge,  when  his  intellectual  powers  were 
in  their  full  maturity  and  vigour. 

I  must  not,  I  perceive,  allow  myself  to  sketch  the  difference  between 
his  sermons  and  his  expositions,  or  between  his  preaching  at  Cambridge 
and  in  the  neighbouring  villages :  nor  must  I  dwell  upon  the  weekly 
evening  services,  when  he  met  a  few  of  his  people,  chiefly  of  the  poorer 
classes,  in  the  vestry  of  his  place  of  worship,  and,  in  a  strain  of  the 
most  chaste  and  simple  eloquence,  comforted  and  instructed  them  in 
the  "  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God."t  The  diversity  of  his 
powers,  the  sincerity  of  his  character,  the  warmth  of  his  love  to  God 
and  man,  were  in  all  alike  apparent :  and  no  one  that  was  not  the  victim 
of  prejudice,  or  the  slave  of  sin,  could  have  seen  him  engaged  in  the 
service  of  God  without  being  ready  to  testify,  "  this  man  must  have 
read  much,  thought  much,  and  prayed  much,"  to  be  thus  admirably  fur- 
nished for  his  great  work. 

*  Striking  evidences  of  the  most  stimulating  immediate  impression  often  occurred.  1  specify 
only  two  examples. 

In  1812,  Mr.  Hall,  who  then  resided  at  Leicester,  paid  one  of  his  periodical  visits  to  Bristol,  and, 
as  usual,  often  preached  at  Broadiiiead.  He  delivered  a  most  solenm  and  impressive  sermon  on 
the  text  "  Dead  m  tresjiasses  and  sins  ;"  of  which  the  concluding  appeals  were  remarkably  sublime 
and  awful.  Tiie  moment  he  had  delivered  the  last  sentence,  Dr.  Ryland,  then  the  pastor  of  the 
church,  hastened  part  of  the  way  up  the  )uilpit  stairs,  and  while  the  tears  trickled  down  his  vene- 
rable face,  exclaimed,  w  ith  a  vehemence  which  astonished  both  the  preaclier  and  the  congregation, — 
•"  Let  all  that  are  alive  in  Jerusalem  pray  fhr  the  dead,  that  they  may  live  I" 

In  1814,  Mr.  Hall,  while  preaching  among  his  old  friends  at  Cambridge,  just  before  he  commenced 
the  application  of  his  sermon,  uttered  a  short  but  very  fervent  ejaculatory  prayer,  during  which 
the  whole  congregation  aro.se  f^rom  their  seals.  Mr.  Hall  seemed  surpri.sed  for  a  moment,  and  but 
for  a  moment,  and  remained  in  prayer  for  about  live  minutes.  He  then  resumed  his  sermon,  and 
continued  preaching  for  more  than  twenty  minutes,  in  such  a  strain  of  niagniliccnt  and  over- 
^vhelniing  eloquence,  as  the  extraordinary  incident  might  beex))ccted  to  produce  from  powers  and 
feelings  like  his,  the  whole  congregation  standing  until  the  close  of  the  sermon. 

t  The  topics  of  these  evening  lectures  were  often  biograjihical.  The  lives  and  characters  of 
Jacob,  Joseph,  Moses,  Elijah,  Hannah,  Samuel,  Ruth,  Datuel,  Sec.  were  briert>  delineated,  and  made 
the  basis  of  some  useful  practical  retleciions.  Whenever  the  subject  would  fairly  allow  it,  these 
rellections  had  an  appropriate  bearing  upon  the  duties,  the  trials,  and  perplexities  of  persons  in  hum- 
ble life.  The  sermon  on  "John  fulfilled  his  course,"  inserted  in  the  present  volume,  is  very  analo- 
gous m  its  character  to  the  discourses  to  which  I  here  refer ;  but  its  commencement  is  more  elaborate. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  39 

It  would  be  highly  instructive  and  gratifying  to  know  by  what  process 
so  finished  a  preacher,  so  exquisite  and  tasteful  a  writer,  as  Mr.  Hall, 
prepared  his  respective  compositions  for  the  pulpit  and  the  press.  But 
the  reluctance  with  which  he  spoke  either  of  himself  or  of  his  occupa- 
tions, deprives  us  of  much  of  this  desirable  information.  At  the  time 
when  our  intercourse  was  most  frequent  and  unrestramed,  I  have  often 
been  with  him  while  he  was  preparing  for  the  pulpit,  and  have  occasion- 
ally venuired  to  ask  him  a  few  questions  ;  his  answers,  always  frank  and 
elucidatory,  however  concise,  enabled  me,  by  means  also  of  frequent 
reference  to  his  notes  on  different  sermons  which  I  heard  dehvered,  to 
form  tolerably  satisfactory  conjectures  as  to  the  course  pursued.  He 
then  stated,  as  he  since  has  to  different  friends,  that  he  never  proceeded 
even  to  think  of  adopting  a  specific  text,  as  fitted  for  a  sermon,  until 
the  matter  it  presented  stood  out  in  the  form  of  a  particular,  distinct, 
and  precise  topic ;  he  could  then  take  it  up  and  lay  it  down  as  he 
plea&ed.  Of  his  extraordinary  power  of  abstraction  I  have  already 
spoken.*  By  its  means  he  could,  at  pleasure,  insulate,  nay  in  a  man- 
ner enclose  himself,  from  every  thing  around  him;  and  thus  pursue 
his  mental  operations.  It  was  usual  with  him  to  have  five  or  six  sub- 
jects under  simultaneous  training ;  to  either  of  which  he  could  direct 
his  attention  as  inclination  or  necessity  required.  The  grand  divisions 
of  thought,  the  heads  of  a  sermon,  for  example,  he  would  trace  out 
with  the  most  prominent  lines  of  demarcation ;  and  these  for  some  years 
supplied  all  the  hints  that  he  needed  in  the  pulpit,  except  on  extraordi- 
nary occasions.!  To  these  grand  divisions  he  referred,  and  upon  them 
suspended  all  the  subordinate  trains  of  thought.  The  latter,  again,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  of  two  classes  altogether  distinct ;  outline  trains  of 
thought,  and  trains  into  which  much  of  the  detail  was  interwoven.  In 
the  outline  train,  the  whole  plan  was  carried  out  and  completed  as  to 
the  argument :  in  that  of  detail,  the  illustrations,  images,  and  subordinate 
proofs  were  selected  and  classified ;  and  in  those  instances  where  the 
force  of  an  argument,  or  the  probable  success  of  a  general  application, 
would  mainly  depend  upon  the  language,  even  that  was  selected  and 
appropriated,  sometimes  to  the  precise  collocation  of  the  words.  Of 
some  sermons,  no  portions  whatever  were  wrought  out  thus  minutely ; 
the  language  employed  in  preaching  being  that  which  spontaneously 
occurred  at  the  time  ;  of  others,  this  minute  attention  was  paid  to  the 
verbal  structure  of  nearly  half:  of  a  few,  the  entire  train  of  preparation, 
almost  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  extended  to  the  very  sentences. 
Yet  the  marked  peculiarity  consisted  in  this,  that  the  process,  even 
when  thus  directed  to  minutiae  in  his  more  elaborate  efforts,  did  not 
require  the  use  of  the  pen  ;  at  least  at  the  time  to  which  these  remarks 
principally  apply. J  For  Mr.  Hall  had  a  singular  faculty  for  continuous 
mental  composition,  apart  from  the  aid  which  writing  supplies.  Words 
were  so  disciplined  to  his  use,  that  the  more  he  thought  on  any  subject 
the  more  closely  were  the  topics  of  thought  associated  with  appropriate 
terms  and  phrases ;  and  it  was  manifest  that  he  had  carefully  disci- 

*  See  vol.  i.  p.  21. 

t  As  an  ex.iniple,  both  of  a  comprehensive  miniature  outline,  and  of  provision  in  the  notes  for 
accurate  expression,  where  he  wished  to  state  with  clearness  and  precision  his  theological  sentiments 
on  a  most  momentous  point,  see  Mr.  Hall's  own  analysis  of  the  sermon  on  John  i.  33,  36,  at  p.  429 
of  this  volume,  and  the  language  actually  employed  in  the  sermon  itself,  p.  438. 

t  Mr.  Hall,  doubtless,  varied  his  manner  of  preparation  in  different  periods.  For  three  or  four 
years  atler  his  settlement  at  Leicester,  he  wrote  down  nearly  a  third  of  the  sermon,  and  left  all  the 
rest  to  flow  from  the  outline  plan  while  he  was  preaching.  But  for  some  years  afterward  he  seldom 
allowed  his  notes  to  exceed  two  pages,  and  is  thought  to  have  indulged  himself  more  than  at  any 
other  period  of  his  life  in  entirely  extemporaneous  eloquence.  At  that  time  his  sennons  were  espe- 
cially distinguished  by  simplicity  and  pathos. 


40  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

plined  his  mind  to  this  as  an  independent  exercise,  probably  to  avoid 
the  pain  and  fatigue  which  always  attended  the  process  of  writing. 
Whenever  he  pleased,  he  could  thus  pursue  the  consecution  to  a  great 
extent,  in  sentences,  many  of  them  perfectly  formed  and  elaborately 
finished,  as  he  went  along,  and  easily  called  up  again  by  memory,  as 
occasion  required  ;  not,  however,  in  their  separate  character,  as  elements 
of  language,  but  because  of  their  being  fully  worked  into  the  substance 
of  thought.  It  hence  happened  that  the  excellence  which  other  persons 
often  attain  as  to  style,  from  the  use  of  the  pen,  in  written,  visible  com- 
position (employing  the  eye  upon  words,  instead  of  fixing  the  memory 
up(jn  substantial  mental  product,  and,  it  may  be,  diminishing  the  intel- 
lectual power  by  substituting  for  one  of  its  faculties  a  mechanical 
result),  he  more  successfully  and  uniformly  obtained  by  a  purely  medita- 
tive process.  And  I  am  persuaded  that  if  he  could  have  instantly  im- 
pressed his  trains  of  thought  upon  paper,  with  the  incorporated  words, 
and  with  the  living  spirit  in  which  they  were  conceived,  hundreds  if  not 
thousands  of  passages  would  have  been  preserved,  as  chaste  and  pol- 
ished in  diction,  as  elastic  and  energetic  in  tone,  as  can  be  selected  from 
any  part  of  his  works.  What,  however,  could  not  thus  be  accomplished 
by  the  pen  has  been  achieved,  as  to  immediate  impression,  in  the  pul- 
pit ;  and  hence  his  celebrity,  unequalled,  in  modern  times,  as  a  sacred 
orator. 

In  preparing  for  the  press  the  process  was  in  many  respects  essen- 
tiahy  different.  There  was,  from  the  outset,  a  struggle  to  overcome 
the  reluctance  to  write,  arising  from  the  anticipation  of  increased  pain, 
which  he  knew  must  be  endured  so  long  as  he  was  engaged  in  the 
mechanical  act ;  and  at  every  return  to  the  labour  he  had  a  new  reluc- 
tance to  surmount.  There  was,  moreover,  the  constant  effort  to  restrain 
a  mind  naturally  active,  ardent,  and  rapid  in  all  its  movements,  to  a 
slow  progression  ;  nay,  a  further  effort,  and,  to  a  mind  so  constituted,  a 
very  irksome  one,  to  bring  the  thoughts  back  from  the  ultimate  issue 
to  which  they  were  incessantly  hastening,  and  cause  them  to  pass  and 
repass,  again  and  again,  by  a  comparatively  sluggish  course,  the  suc- 
cessive links  in  a  long  chain.  Nor  was  this  all.  He  had  formed  for 
himself,  as  a  writer,  an  ideal  standard  of  excellence  which  could  not  be 
reached  :*  his  perception  of  beauty  in  composition  was  so  delicate  and 
refined,  that  in  regard  to  his  own  productions  it  engendered  perhaps  a 
fastidious  taste ;  and,  deep  and  prevailing  as  was  his  humility,  he  was 
not  insensible  to  the  value  of  a  high  reputation,  and  therefore  cautiously 
guarded  against  the  risk  of  diminishing  his  usefulness  among  certain 
classes  of  readers,  by  consigning  any  production  to  the  world  that  had 
not  been  thoroughly  subjected  to  the  labor  limce.  Hence  the  extreme 
slowness  with  which  he  composed  for  the  press ;  writing,  improving, 
rejecting  the  improvement ;  seeking  another,  rejecting  it ;  recasting 
whole  sentences  and  pages ;  often  recurring  precisely  to  the  original 
phraseology  ;  and  still  oftener  repenting,  when  it  was  too  late,  that  he 
had  not  done  so.  All  this  he  lamented  as  a  serious  defect,  declaring 
that  he  gave,  in  his  own  view,  to  his  written  compositions,  an  air  of 
gtiflfness  and  formality,  which  deprived  him  of  all  complacency  in  them. 
And  I  caimot  but  think  that,  notwithstanding  the  exquisite  harmony  and 
beauty  which  cliaracterize  every  thing  that  he  has  published,  they  were 
even,  in  point  of  felicity  of  diction,  and  the  majestic  current  and  force 
of  language,  inferior  to  the  "  winged  words"  that  escaped  from  his  lips, 
»vhen  "  his  soul  was  enlarged"'  in  the  discharge  of  ministerial  duty. 

*  "  I  om  tornicnicJ  with  ilie  desire  of  writing  better  than  I  can."— P.  340. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  41 

May  we  not  suggest  a  probable  reason  for  this,  by  observing  that 
when  Mr.  Hall  stood  forth  as  the  minister  of  the  sanctuary,  he  placed 
the  fire  upon  the  altar  in  the  humble  confidence  that  it  would  be  kept 
alive  by  the  communication  of  grace  and  spirit  from  on  high  ;  but  that, 
when  he  came  before  the  public  as  an  author,  he  sometimes  extin- 
guished his  own  flame,  pure  and  ethereal  as  it  notwithstanding  was,  in 
his  efforts  to  ornament  the  vase  in  which  he  held  it  up  to  view.* 

But  I  must  not  dwell  longer  on  these  topics. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1799,  Mr.  Hall  had  the  happiness  of 
renewing  personal  intercourse  with  his  early  friend.  Mr.  (afterward 
Sir  James)  Mackintosh,  being  about  to  deliver  a  course  of  lectures  on 
the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Hall,  deemed  it  expe- 
dient, for  the  completion  of  some  of  the  extensive  researches  which 
that  important  undertaking  required,  to  reside  for  a  few  months  at 
Cambridge,  that  he  might  consult  the  more  valuable  of  the  college 
libraries,  as  well  as  the  public  library  belonging  to  the  university  gene- 
rally. Another  distinguished  individual,  the  late  Dr.  Samuel  Parr,  spent 
several  weeks  at  Cambridge  at  the  same  time,  for  the  purpose  of  visit- 
ing some  of  his  old  friends,  of  associating  with  Mr.  Mackintosh,  and 
of  becoming  personally  acquainted  with  Mr.  Hall,  whose  character  he 
had  long  known  and  highly  valued.  Mr.  Hall,  pleased  to  refresh  his 
spirits  in  the  society  of  his  beloved  fellow-student,  and  by  no  means 
unwilling  to  glean  something  from  the  stores  of  so  profound  a  scholar 
as  Dr.  Parr,  often  spent  his  evenings  with  these  two  eminent  men,  and 
a  few  members  of  the  university,  who  were  invited  to  their  select  par- 
ties, and  with  whom,  from  that  time,  he  cultivated  an  intimacy. 

This  circumstance  led  to  the  formation  of  Mr.  Hall's  most  inveterate 
habit, — that  of  smoking.  Previously  to  this  period,  he  had  always 
censured  the  practice  in  the  strongest  terms  ;  but,  on  associating  with 
Dr.  Parr,  his  aversion  to  what  he  used  to  denominate  "  an  odious  cus- 
tom," soon  passed  away.  The  doctor  was  always  enveloped  in  a  dense 
cloud  of  smoke  from  sunrise  until  midnight ;  and  no  person  could 
remain  in  his  company  long  without  great  inconvenience,  unless  he 
learned  to  smoke  in  self-defence.  Mr.  Hall,  therefore,  made  the  attempt, 
and  quickly  overcame  every  obstacle.  I  well  recollect  entering  his 
apartment  just  as  he  had  acquired  this  happy  art ;  and,  seeing  him  sit 
at  ease,  the  smoke  rising  above  his  head  in  lurid,  spiral  volumes,  he 
inhaling  and  apparently  enjoying  its  fragrance,  I  could  not  suppress  my 
astonishment.  "  O,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am  only  qualifying  myself  for  the 
society  of  a  doctor  of  divinity ;  and  this,"  holding  up  the  pipe,  "  is  my 
test  of  admission." 

Mr.  Hall's  Cambridge  friends  were  divided  in  their  feelings  and 
wishes  with  regard  to  this  new  practice.  The  majority  approved  it, 
from  a  belief  that  the  narcotic  influence  of  tobacco  would  mitigate  the 
pain  which  he  had  so  long  endured.  Others,  apprehending  that  his 
habit  of  converting  every  thing  into  a  source  of  enjoyment  would  trans- 
form him  into  an  unremitting  smoker,  and  that  injury  to  his  health 
would  ensue,  ventured  to  expostulate  with  him.  I  belonged  to  the 
latter  class,  and  put  into  his  hands  Dr.  Adam  Clarke's  pamphlet  on 
"  The  Use  and  Abuse  of  Tobacco,"  with  a  request  that  he  would  read 
it.  In  a  few  days  he  returned  it,  and  at  once,  as  if  to  preclude  discus- 
sion, said,  "  Thank  you,  sir,  for  Adam  Clarke's  pamphlet.  I  can't 
refute  his  arguments,  and  I  can't  give  up  smoking." 

*  That  Mr.  Hall  did  not  always  require  much  time  for  the  production  of  elegant  and  spirited 
writing,  interspersed  with  passajjes  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  of  the  most  elaborate  polish,  is  plaitl 
from  his  two  earliest  publications,  both  composed  currente  calamo,  and  each  yielding  as  powerful 
and  finished  spucunens  of  style  and  thought  as  can  be  drawn  from  lue  works. 


42  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

We  now  approach  the  time  when  Mr.  Hall  acquired  a  signal  exten- 
sion of  celebrity.  Many  who  had  hailed  the  French  Revolution  of 
1789  as  an  event  productive  of  extensive  benefit,  were  compelled  to 
admit,  after  a  few  years,  tliat  the  great  leaders  in  that  revolution,  and 
still  more  their  followers,  committed  grievous  blunders,  and  grosser 
crimes,  from  the  want  of  higher  than  political  principles  to  control 
their  actions.  Yet,  in  the  false  security  which  some  felt,  and  others 
insidiously  aimed  to  inspire,  it  was  suspected  by  but  few  that  much  of 
our  periodical  literature  had,  under  the  plea  of  encouraging  free  discus- 
sion, become  irreligious  in  its  tendency,  and  that  various  unprincipled 
demagogues  in  London  and  the  large  manufacturing  towns,  not  only 
held  up  to  admiration  the  conduct  of  the  detestable  actors  in  "  the  reign 
of  terror,"  but  were  constantly  exerting  themselves  to  disseminate 
democracy  and  atheism  conjointly.  Such,  however,  was  the  fact. 
From  1795  to  1799,  debating  rooms  were  opened  in  various  parts  of  the 
metropolis,  in  which  the  most  barefaced  infidelity  was  taught,  and  to 
which  the  lower  classes  were  invited,  often  on  Sunday  evenings,  by  a 
variety  of  specious  allurements.  Mr.  Hall  was  no  sooner  aware  of  the 
existence  of  these  sources  of  evil,  and  of  the  mischief  they  produced, 
than  he  began  -to  use  the  voice  of  warning,  in  his  private  intercourse 
among  his  people,  and  to  impress  upon  such  of  the  young  as  he  feared 
had  received  a  skeptical  bias,  that  of  all  fanaticism  the  fanaticism  of 
infidelity  then  prevalent  was  at  once  the  most  preposterous  and  the 
most  destructive. 

Mr.  Hall's  persuasion  of  the  continuance  and  growth  of  this  infidel 
spirit  induced  him  to  preach  and  publish  his  celebrated  sermon  on 
"  Modern  Infidelity ;"  which  was  not,  therefore,  as  many  affirmed,  a 
hasty  production,  written  under  excited  feelings  and  false  alarms,  but 
the  deliberate  result  of  a  confirmed  belief  that  the  most  strenuous  efforts 
were  required  to  repel  mischief  so  awfully  and  insidiously  diffused. 

Before  the  publication  of  this  sermon,  its  author  had  fully  "  counted 
the  cost"  as  to  the  obloquy  which  it  would  bring  upon  him  from  various 
quarters ;  but  he  did  not  at  all  anticipate  its  extraordinary  success,  and 
the  corresponding  extension  of  his  reputation.  As  repeated  editions 
were  called  for,  he  yielded  his  assent  with  great  hesitation,  from  a  fear 
that  the  copies  would  remain  unsold ;  and  he  was  the  last  to  see,  what 
every  one  else  perceived,  that  it  had  carried  his  celebrity  as  a  profound 
thinker  and  eloquent  writer  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the  denomination 
to  which  he  was  so  bright  an  ornament. 

Immediately  after  this  sermon  issued  from  the  press,  the  consistency 
and  integrity  of  the  author  were  vehemently  attacked  in  several  letters 
which  appeared  in  the  "  Cambridge  Intelligencer,"  then  a  popular  and 
widely  circulated  newspaper.  Its  editor,  Mr.  Flower,  had  received  in 
an  ill  spirit  Mr.  Hall's  advice  that  he  would  repress  the  violent  tone  of 
his  political  disquisitions,  and  had,  from  other  causes  which  need  not 
now  be  developed,  become  much  disposed  to  misinterpret  his  motives 
and  depreciate  his  character.  He  therefore  managed  to  keep  alive 
the  controversy  for  some  months,  occasionally  aiding,  by  his  own 
remarks,  those  of  his  correspondents  who  opposed  Mr.  Hall,  and  as 
often  casting  illiberal  insinuations  upon  the  individual  who  had  stepped 
forward  in  defence  of  the  sermon  and  its  author.  A  few  months  after 
this  discussion  subsided,  Mr.  Flower,  who  had  been  summoned  before 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  imprisoned  in  Newgate  for  a  libel  on  Bishop 
Watson,  published  an  exculpiitory  pamphlet ;  in  which,  with  a  view  to 
draw  the  attention  of  the  public  as  speedUy  as  possible  from  his  own 
unmanly  and  dismgenuous  conduct,  while  at  the  bar  of  the  House,  he 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  43 

soon  passed  from  his  personal  defence  to  a  virulent  attack  upon  Mr. 
Hall,  his  former  pastor. 

Shortly  afterward,  another  controvertist,  a  Mr.  Anthony  Robinson, 
unwilling  that  Mr.  Flower  and  his  coadjutors  should  gather  all  the 
laurels  in  so  noble  a  conflict,  hastened  into  the  field  ;  and,  it  must  be 
admitted,  left  them  far  behind.  He  published,  in  a  pamphlet  of  more 
than  sixty  pages,  "  An  Examination"  of  Mr.  Hall's  Sermon.  He  did 
not  bring  against  the  preacher  the  positive  charge  of  apostacy,  having 
discrimination  enough  to  see  that  it  was  one  thing  to  refer  the  atroci- 
ties of  th^  reign  of  terror  to  the  pohtical  principles  of  the  perpetrators, 
and  quite  another  to  ascribe  them  to  tlieir  avowed  and  unblushing 
atheism.  But  the  crimes  that  he  imputed  to  Mr.  Hall  were,  that  he 
was  "  an  imitator  of  Mr.  Burke,"  that  he  was  "  fierce  and  even  savage 
in  expression,"  that  his  "  charges  against  atheism  are  unfounded,"  and 
that  he  taught  "  that  it  was  excusable,  if  not  meritorious,  to  punish 
men  for  errors  in  religious  opinions  !"  For  himself,  he  maintained,  that 
"  all  men  are  essentially  alike  in  moral  conduct ;"  that  the  sum  of  all 
the  morality  of  religionists  is,  "  do  good  unto  the  household  of  faith, 
and  to  them  only  ;  kill,  plunder,  calumniate  the  heretics ;"  that  "  all 
public  religions  are  opposed  to  all  private  morality  ;"  that  "  atheism, 
on  the  contrary,  tends  but  little  to  alter  our  moral  sentiments  ;"  and 
that  "  all  religions  except  the  belief  tliat  rewards  are  to  be  conferred 
upon  the  beneficent,  and  for  that  service  exclusively,  are  not  merely  as 
bad,  but  infinitely  worse  than  any  kind  or  degree  of  skepticism ;"  because 
"  atheism  leaves  every  human  present  motive  m  full  force,  while  every 
religion  or  mode  of  faith  different  from  what  is  above  expressed 
changes  the  name  and  the  nature  of  morality,  saps  the  foundations  of 
all  benevolence,  and  introduces  malice,  hostility  and  murder,  under  the 
pretext  of  love  to  God."  This  being  a  fair  specimen  of  the  shameless 
impiety  with  which  the  press  then  teemed,  we  need  not  wonder  at  the 
applauses  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Hall  for  advancing  with  such  singular 
talent  and  ability  to  stem  the  torrent. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  letters  from  private  friends,  who  dis- 
approved of  his  denominating  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  "  the  Chris- 
tian priesthood,"  every  communication  he  received  was  highly  gratify- 
ing, especially  as  it  did  justice  to  his  motives.  The  most  distinguished 
members  of  the  university  were  loud  in  his  praises  :  numerous  pas- 
sages in  the  sermon,  which  were  profound  in  reasoning,  or  touching 
and  beautiful  in  expression,  were  read  and  eulogized  in  every  college 
and  almost  every  company ;  and  the  whole  composition  was  recom- 
mended in  the  charges  and  sermons  of  the  dignified  and  other  clergy  in 
terms  of  the  warmest  praise.  The  "  Monthly  Review"  (then  the  lead- 
ing critical  journal),  the  "  British  Critic"  (at  that  time  under  the  able 
superintendence  of  Dr.  Nares),  and  other  Reviews,  gave  to  the  sermon 
the  highest  commendation.  Kett  in  his  "  Elements  of  General  Know- 
ledge," William  Belsham  in  his  "  History  of  Great  Britain,"  Dr.  Parr  in 
the  notes  to  his  celebrated  "  Spital  Sermon,"  and  many  others,  were 
profuse  in  their  expressions  of  panegyric.  From  that  time  Mr.  Hall's 
reputation  was  placed  upon  an  eminence  which  it  will  probably  retain 
as  long  as  purity  and  elevation  of  style,  deeply  philosophical  views  of 
the  springs  and  motives  of  action,  and  correct  theological  sentiments 
are  duly  appreciated  in  the  world.* 

*  That  the  reader  may  be  put  in  possession  of  what  was  most  interesting  in  the  panegyrical 
notices  to  which  1  have  above  alluded,  I  shall  insert  the  substance  of  two  reviews  written  by  Sir 
James  Mackmtosh,  and  of  the  often-cited  note  of  Dr.  Parr,  neither  of  which  is  now  easily  attain- 
able, in  a  note  at  tlie  end  of  this  Memoir.     See  Note  B,  Appendi.x. 


44  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Of  the  letters  received  by  Mr.  Hall  on  this  occasion,  the  following 
from  the  pen  of  his  friend  Mackintosh  has  escaped  the  ravages  of  time. 

"  Serle-street,  LincoliVs  /n«, 
"  Dear  Hall,  "  2fi  March,  ibou. 

"  From  the  enclosed  letter,  you  will  see  the  opinion  which  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don* has  formed  of  your  sermon,  and  you  will  observe  that  he  does  some  justice 
to  your  merit.  Mr.  Archdeacon  Eaton,  to  whom  the  letter  was  written,  has 
allowed  me  to  send  it  to  you ;  and  I  thought  it  might  not  be  disagreeable  to  you 
to  have  it,  as  the  opinion  of  a  man,  not  indeed  of  very  vigorous  understanding, 
but  an  elegant  writer,  a  man  of  taste  and  virtue,  not  to  mention  his  high  station 
in  the  church. 

"  I  last  night  had  a  conversation  about  the  sermon  with  a  man  of  much  greater 
talents,  at  a  place  where  theological,  or  even  literary  discussions  are  seldom  heard. 
It  was  with  Mr.  Windham,  at  the  Duchess  of  GordoTi's  rout.  I  asked  him 
whether  he  had  read  it.  He  told  me  that  he  had,  that  he  recommended  it  to  every- 
body ;  and,  among  others,  on  that  very  day,  to  the  new  Bishop  of  Bangor,!  who 
had  dined  with  him.  He  said  that  he  was  exceedingly  struck  with  the  style, 
but  still  more  with  the  matter.  He  particularly  praised  the  passage  on  vanity  as 
an  admirable  commentary  on  Mr.  Burke's  observations  on  vanity  in  his  character 
of  Rousseau.  He  did  not  like  it  the  worse,  he  said,  for  being  taken  from  the 
source  of  all  good,  as  he  considered  Mr.  Burke's  works  to  be.  He  thought,  how- 
over,  that  you  had  carried  your  attack  on  vanity  rather  too  far.  He  had  recom- 
mended the  sermon  to  Lord  Grenville,  who  seemed  skeptical  about  any  thing  good 
coming  from  the  pastor  of  a  Baptist  congregation,  especially  at  Cambridge. 

"  This,  you  see,  is  the  unhappy  impression  which  Priestley  has  made,  and 
which,  if  you  proceed  as  you  have  so  nobly  begun,  you  will  assuredly  efface.  But 
you  will  never  do  all  the  good  which  it  is  in  your  power  to  do,  unless  you  assert 
your  own  importance,  and  call  to  mind  that,  as  the  dissenters  have  no  man  com- 
parable to  you,  it  is  your  province  to  guide  them,  and  not  to  be  guided  by  their 
ignorance  and  bigotry.  I  am  almost  sorry  you  thought  any  apology  due  to  those 
senseless  bigots  who  blamed  you  for  compassion  [towards]  the  clergy  of  France,t 
as  innocent  sufferers  and  as  martyrs  of  the  Christian  faith  during  the  most  bar- 
barous persecution  that  has  fallen  upon  Christianity,  perhaps  since  its  origin,  but 
certainly  since  its  establishment  by  Constantine.  ****** 
*******I  own  I  thought  well  of  Horsley  when  I 
found  him,  in  his  charge,  call  these  unhappy  men  '  our  Christian  brethren  :'  the 
bishops  and  clergy  of  the  persecuted  church  of  France  !  This  is  the  language  of 
truth.     This  is  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 

"  I  met  with  a  combination  in  Ovid,  the  other  day,  which  would  have  suited 
your  sermon.     Speaking  of  the  human  descendants  of  the  giants,  he  says — 

'  Sed  et  ilia  propago 
Contemptrix  superi'im,  sievicque  avidissima  caedis 
El  violenta  fuit.     Scires  e  sanguine  nolos.' — Met.  I.  160. 

"  The  union  of  ferocity  with  irreligion  is  agreeable  to  your  reasoning. 

"I  am  going  to  send  copies  of  my  third  edition^  to  Paley  and  Watson,  to  Fox 
and  the  lord-chancellor.ll  I  should  like  to  send  copies  of  your  sermon  with 
them.  If  you  will  direct  six  copies  to  be  sent  here,  I  shall  distribute  them  in  such 
a  manner  as  will,  1  think,  not  be  hurtful. 

On  the  publication  of  Dr.  Parr's  "  Spilal  .Sermon,"  I  took  a  copy  of  it  to  Mr.  Hall :  and  sat  down 
at  tiis  table  while  he  hastily  turned  ov<;t  the  leaves.  He  was  greatly  amused  by  ihe  cur.sory  exanni- 
nation,  but  had  evidenlly  no  expectation  that  any  of  the  notes  referred  to  himself.  "What  a  pro- 
fusion of  Greek,  sir  1  Why,  if  I  were  to  write  so,  they  would  call  me  a  pedant ;  but  It  is  all  natural 
in  I'arr."  "  What  a  strange  medley,  sir.  The  gownsmen  will  call  him  Farrago  Varr."  At 
length  1  saw  his  eye  glance  upon  the  notes  which  relate  to  himself  His  countenance  underwent 
the  most  rapid  changes,  indicating  surprise,  regret,  and  pity  ;  m  a  few  minutes  he  threw  down  the 
book,  and  exclaimed,  "  Poor  man  '.  poor  man  1  I  am  very  sorry  for  him  I  He  is  certainly  insane, 
sir !  Where  were  Ins  friends,  sir  ]  Was  there  nobody  to  sifl  the  folly  out  of  his  notes,  and  prevent 
its  publication  ?     Poor  man  '." 

*  Ur.  Porieus.    This  enclosure  is  not  now  extant.  t  Dr.  Cleaver, 

}  Sec  vol.  i.  p.  57. 

\  Of  ihc  Discourse  on  the  Studv  of  the  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations. 

I  TheEarlofRosslyn. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  45 

•'Mrs.  Mackintosh  joins  me  in  the  most  kind  and  respectful  remembrance. 
Believe  me  ever, 

"  Dear  Hall, 
"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  James  Mackintosh." 

Mr.  Mackintosh  continued  to  evince  both  the  steadiness  of  his  friend- 
ship for  Mr.  Hall,  and  the  high  value  which  he  set  upon  this  sermon, 
by  frequently  quoting  it,  and  applying  it  to  the  elucidation  of  the  lec- 
tures which  he  was  then  delivering  in  Lincoln's  Inn.  Several  of  his 
auditors  were,  in  consequence,  induced  sometimes  to  spend  their  Sun- 
days at  Cambridge,  that  they  might  listen  to  the  pulpit  instructions  of 
the  individual  of  whom  they  had  heard  so  much.  Many  also  of  the 
members  of  the  university,  including  not  merely  under-graduates,  but 
college-fellows  and  tutors,  were  often  seen  at  the  Baptist  place  of  wor- 
ship. These  sometimes  amounted  to  fifty  or  sixty  :  and  a  few  of  them 
attended  so  constantly  upon  the  afternoon  services  that  they  became 
almost  regarded  as  regular  hearers.  Among  the  latter,  some  have 
since  become  distinguished  men,  and  occupy  important  stations  either 
in  the  church  or  in  the  public  service,  as  statesmen  or  senators. 

The  attendance  of  so  many  university  students  upon  the  services  of 
a  dissenting  minister  at  length  began  to  excite  alarm  among  the 
"  heads  of  houses ;"  of  whom  a  meeting  was  summoned,  to  consider 
the  expediency  .of  interposing  some  authoritative  measure  to  prevent 
this  irregularity.  But  Dr.  Mansel,  then  master  of  the  largest  college, 
Trinity,  and  afterward  Bishop  of  Bristol,  "  declared  that  he  could  not 
be  a  party  in  such  a  measure :  he  admired  and  revered  Mr.  Hall,  both 
for  his  talents  and  for  his  genuine  liberality ;  he  had  ascertained  that 
his  preaching  was  not  that  of  a  partisan,  but  of  an  enlightened  minister  of 
Christ;  and  that,  therefore,  if  he  were  not  the  master  of  Trinity  he  should 
certainly  often  attend  himself;  and  that  even  now  he  had  experienced 
a  severe  struggle  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  relinquish  so 
great  a  benefit."  Shortly  after  this  he  personally  thanked  Mr.  Hall, 
not  only  for  his  sermon,  but  for  his  general  efl"orts  in  the  Christian 
cause  ;  and,  through  the  medium  of  a  common  friend,  endeavoured  t» 
induce  him  to  enter  the  established  church.  This,  I  believe,  was  the 
only  direct  attempt  to  persuade  Mr.  Hall  to  conform. 

None  of  these  circumstances  were  permitted  to  draw  Mr.  Hall  aside 
from  his  ordiiiary  course.  His  studies,  his  public  duties,  his  pastoral 
visits,  were  each  assigned  their  natural  place,  as  before.  If  there  were 
any  change,  it  was  manifest  in  his  increased  watchfulness  over  himself, 
and,  perhaps,  in  giving  a  rather  more  critical  complexion  than  before 
to  certain  portions  of  his  morning  expositions,  and  in  always  concluding 
them  with  such  strong  practical  appeals  as  might  be  suited  to  a  con- 
gregation of  mixed  character. 

If  I  do  not  greatly  mistake,  however,  his  sentiments  with  regard  to- 
controversy  in  general  were  considerably  modified  from  this  period. 
The  language  of  the  preface  to  his  sermon  on  the  Advantages  of  Union 
became  the  language  of  his  heart  and  conduct ;  so  that  he  abstained 
from  public  discussions  except  on  questions  that  seemed  of  vital  im- 
portance, either  in  regard  to  fundamental  truth,  or  the  essential  privi- 
leges of  Christians.  Having  learned  that  one  of  the  severest  trials  of 
human  virtue  is  the  trial  of  controversy,  he  resolv6d,  on  occasions 
when  silence  became  inexpedient  or  censurable,  not  to  repel  even 
injustice  and  misrepresentation  in  an  angry  spirit.  Thus  when  he 
undertook  the   refutation  of   Bishop  Horsley's  charge,  that  village 


46  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

preachers  among  Methodists  and  dissenters  were  teachers  of  insubor- 
dination and  sedition,  indignant  as  he  doubtless  felt  at  so  unjust  an 
insinuation,  he  opposed  it  in  a  manner  as  remarkable  for  the  conciliatory 
spirit  which  it  exhibits,  as  for  the  singular  train  of  original  thought  and 
cogent  argument  which  nms  through  that  interesting  fragment.* 

In  little  more  than  two  years  after  the  publication  of  the  sermon  on 
Modern  Infidelity,  Mr.  Hall  again  appeared  before  the  pubhc  as  an 
author.  The  tra^nsient  peace  of  Amiens  was  celebrated  by  a  general 
thanksgiving  throughout  England  on  the  1st  of  June,  1802.  In  the 
sermon  preached  by  Mr.  Hall  on  that  occasion,  he  endeavoured  first  to 
awaken  the  gratitude  of  his  auditors  by  a  most  touching  picture  of  the 
horrors  of  war,  from  which  Europe  had  just  escaped  ;  and  then  to  apply 
the  gratitude  so  excited  to  acts  of  benevolence.  I  have  already 
adverted!  to  Mr.  Hall's  reasons  for  preaching  that  sermon  memoriter, 
without  deviation,  from  his  own  written  copy.  I  recur  to  it  for  a 
moment,  merely  to  state  that  though  it  was  delivered  with  a  most 
impressive  dignity,  and  with  less  rapidity  than  that  to  which  he  usually 
yielded  himself,  yet,  in  one  or  two  parts,  he  obviously  felt  great  diffi- 
culty in  checking  his  inclination  either  to  modify  his  language,  or  to 
expatiate  more  at  large.  This  was  especially  observable  at  the  passage 
commencing  with  "  Conceive  but  for  a  moment  the  consternation  which 
the  approach  of  an  invading  army  would  impress  on  the  peaceful  vil- 
lages in  this  neighbourhood. "J  He  mentioned  afterward,  that  the 
struggle  between  his  desire  to  correct  what  he,  just  then,  saw  was  "  a 
confusion  in  the  grouping,"  and  his  determination  "not  to  deviate 
from  his  lesson"  was  such  as  rendered  it  almost  impossible  for  him  to 
proceed.     To  this  kind  of  perplexity  he  never  again  exposed  himself. 

The  nation  had  scarcely  tasted  the  blessings  of  peace,  when  a  dis- 
pute on  one  of  the  articles  of  the  treaty  of  Amiens  involved  us  in  a 
fresh  war  with  the  French.  Bonaparte,  then  first  consul,  aware  of  the 
British  ascendency  at  sea,  resolved  first  to  attack  our  continental 
dominions.  He  also  seized  on  the  persons  and  property  of  the  nume- 
rous English  who  had  visited  France  during  the  brief  interval  of  peace, 
detaining  them  as  prisoners  of  war ;  and  then  menaced  this  country 
with  invasion.  So  strange  and,  in  some  respects,  so  atrocious  a  com- 
mencement of  hostilities  had  a  singular  effect  in  melting  down  dissen- 
sion, and  diffusing  a  spirit  of  almost  unexampled  unanimity,  among  all 
ranks  and  classes  of  the  community.  To  adopt  Mr.  Hall's  emphatic 
language  :  "  It  was  a  struggle  for  existence,  not  for  empire.  It  must 
surely  be  regarded  as  a  happy  circumstance  that  the  contest  did  not 
take  this  shape  at  an  earlier  period,  while  many  were  deceived  by 
certain  specious  pretences  of  liberty  into  a  favourable  opinion  of  our 
enemy's  designs.  The  popular  delusion  had  passed ;  the  most  unex- 
ampled prodigies  of  guilt  had  dispelled  it ;  and,  after  a  series  of  rapine 
and  cruelty,  had  torn  from  every  heart  the  last  fibres  of  mistaken  partiality.''''^ 
At  this  momentous  period  Mr.  Hall's  love  of  his  country  was  again  sig- 
nally evinced.  On  the  fast  day,  19th  October,  1803,  he  preached  at 
Bristol,  where  he  was  then  on  a  visit,  a  sermon  afterward  pubhshed, — 
"  The  Sentiments  proper  to  the  Present  Crisis,"  which  had  the  happiest 
effect  in  enkindling  the  flame  of  generous,  active  patriotism. 

This  sermon,  perhaps,  excited  more  general  admiration  than  any  of 
the  author's  former  productions ;  on  account  of  its  masterly  exposure 
of  prevailing  errors,  its  original  and  philosophical  defence  of  some 
momentous  truths,  and  its  remarkable  appropriateness  to  the  exigences 

»  That  on  Village  Preaching  commenced  in  1801.    See  vol.  ii.  p.  173-206. 

J  Vol.  i.  p.  21.  X  Vol.  i.  p.  61.  4  See  vol.  i.  p.  107. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  47 

of  the  crisis.  The  last  ten  pages  were  thought  by  many  (and  by  Mr. 
Pitt  among  the  number)  to  be  fully  equal  in  genuine  eloquence  to  any 
passage  of  the  same  length  that  can  be  selected  from  either  ancient  or 
modern  orators.  They  were  reprinted  in  various  periodical  publica- 
tions, and  widely  circulated  in  every  direction;  and  they  evidently 
suggested  some  of  the  finest  thoughts  in  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  splen- 
did defence  of  Peltier,  the  editor  of  L'Ambigu,  who  was  tried  in  London 
for  a  libel  on  Bonaparte. 

In  an  old  manuscript  of  Mr.  Hall's,  containing  outline  notes  of  ser- 
mons preached  by  him  in  1801,  1802,  and  1803,  scarcely  any  of  them 
occupying  more  than  two  pages,  there  are  inserted  the  first  rude  sketch 
of  this  valuable  sermon,  and,  at  the  distance  of  several  pages,  a  few 
hints  of  thoughts  and  sentences  designed  to  be  introduced  near  the  close, 

"  I.  Particulars  in  which  our  notions  are  wrong,  or  '  we  speak  not  aright,'  with 
reg.ird  to  national  judgments. 

"  1.  Political  speculations  on  the  secondary  causes  of  our  calamities,  exclusive 
of  a  regard  to  the  hand  of  God. 

"  2.   Wanton  and  indiscriminate  censure  of  the  conduct  of  our  rulers. 

"We  are  permitted  within limits  to  animadvert  on  the  measures  of 

government. 

"  3.  A  confidence  in  an  arm  of  flesh. 

"  Cursed  is  man,  &c. 

"  4.  A  reliance  on  our  supposed  superior  virtue. 

"  5.  General  lamentations  on  the  corruptions  of  the  age. 

"  Right  sentiments.     An  acknowledgment  of  the  justice  and  dominion  of  God. 

"  Sincere  confession  of  our  sins.     Dan.  ix.  8.     Zech.  x.  11,"  &c. 

Such  was  the  original  synopsis.  The  hints  intended  to  be  worked  iu 
towards  the  close  of  the  sermon  are  as  below. 

"  Eternal  God !  (O  thou,)  who  hast  at  once  declared  thyself  the  God  of  Peace 
find  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  go  forth  with  our  armies,  and  shelter  (shield)  their  heads 
in  the  day  of  battle :  give  them  (endow  them  with)  that  undaunted  courage,  that 
from  trouble  which  springs  from  a  sense  of  thy  presence. 

"  Under  thy  conduct,  and  fighting  under  thy  banners,  we  will  employ  .nil   the 

resources  which  lie  within  our  reach without  trusting  in   an  arm  of  flesh 

while  we  behold  with  the  eye  of  faith,  what  thy  prophet  discerned  in  ancient 

times,  the  plains  filled  with  horses  of  fire  and  chariots  of  fire. 

"  There  is  surely  not  one  person  here  who  will  tempt  himself  to by  the 

fear  of  death,  when  he  reflects  that,  in  the  failure  of  this  great  enterprise,  should 
the  crisis  arrive,  he  must  feel  a  thousand  deaths  in  the  extinction  of  religion,  in 
the  spoliation  of  property,  in  the  violation  of  chastity,  in  the  confusion  of  all  orders 

when  all  that  is  noble  or  holy  will  be  trampled  upon when  death 

would  be   sought  with  the  avidity  of when  the  enemies'  triumphs  will  be 

felt  in mourn freedom  entombed." 

I  have  here  presented  the  incipient  germs  of  thought  and  expression, 
in  this  extraordinary  production,  from  a  persuasion  that  the  man  of 
research  into  the  operations  of  intellect  will  be  deeply  interested  on 
comparing  them  with  their  finished  result,  'as  exhibited  in  the  first 
volume. 

On  looking  back  upon  the  preceding  pages,  I  perceive  that  I  shall 
have  laid  myself  open  to  the  charge  of  dwelling  too  long  upon  that 
portion  of  Mr.  Hall's  life  during  which  I  also  resided  at  Cambridge. 
Let  me  simply  observe,  then,  that  it  was  the  portion  in  which  his  line 
character  assumed,  by  the  means  I  have  been  tracing,  its  true  place  in 
public  estimation ;  and  that  I  may  be  forgiven  if  I  have  thus  dwelt  upon 
that  bright  period  of  my  own  existence  in  which  I  was  open  to  the 
constant  influence  of  association  with  one  so  pre-eminent  in  mental 
and  moral  excellence.     Yet  I  am  not  disposed  to  allow  the  interesting 


48  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

memory  of  a  lon^  friendship  to  interfere  with  biographical  fidelity.  1 
have  spoken  of  Mr.  Hall's  richer  qualities  agreeably  to  the  estimate  I 
then  formed,  but  with  a  conviction  that  they  had  not  at  that  period 
reached  their  full  maturity  and  vigour.  I  shall  now  advert  to  a  few  of 
his  defects,  but  with  an  equally  strong  persuasion  that  they  diminished 
as  his  age,  and  judgment,  and  piety  advanced. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  Mr.  Hall  was  impetuous  in  argument. 
I  must  here  add  that  he  sometimes  contended  more  for  victory  than 
for  truth.  I  never  knew  him  voluntarily  take  what  he  believed  to  be 
the  wrong  side  of  an  argument,  for  the  sake  of  showing  how  adroitly 
he  could  carry  on  the  advocacy  of  any  opinions  which  he,  for  the 
moment,  took  the  fancy  to  maintain;  but,  if  ever  he  precipitated  him- 
self into  the  assertion  of  erroneous  sentiment,  he  would  strenuously 
defend  his  opinion ;  and,  on  such  occasions,  would  seem  more  pleased 
with  perplexing  and  confoundmg  his  opponents,  than  with  faithfully 
endeavouring  to  set  either  them  or  himself  right.  This  habit  was  very 
much  restrained,  if  noc  altogether  overcome,  in  the  latter  part  of  his 
life.  Be  it  observed,  however,  that  at  no  time  did  it  tempt  him  to  trifle 
with  the  sanctities  of  religion. 

Besides  this  yielding  to  the  temptation  of  making  the  matter  of  truth 
and  error  a  prize  for  contest,  there  was  another  thing  which,  in  social 
life,  depreciated  the  practical  value  of  his  great  ability,  namely,  a  random 
carelessness  in  throwing  out  opinions  and  estimates  of  subjects, 
books,  or  men.  Many  of  those  opinions  were  graphically  correct,  and 
highly  valuable,  and  they  were  usually  clothed  in  an  aphorismatic 
terseness  of  language ;  yet  were  too  often  such  that  plain,  credulous 
listeners  for  instruction,  regarding  him  as  an  oracle,  would  leave  him 
with  incorrect  and  fallacious  notions  of  the  topics  on  which  he  had 
spoken,  and  woiUd,  therefore,  be  strangely  perplexed  two  or  three  weeks 
afterward,  on  hearing,  or  hearing  reported,  contrary  opinions  on  the 
same  subjects  stated  by  him  subsequently,  when  further  investigation 
had  corrected  his  judgment.  Sometimes,  too,  especially  when  indul- 
ging in  panegyric,  he  would,  even  in  conversation,  give  himself  up  to 
the  feelings  of  the  orator,  and  allow  his  fancy  to  escape  into  the  ideal, 
sketching  the  picture  then  existing  in  his  own  tlioughts,  rather  than 
that  of  the  individual  whom  he  imagined  himself  describing. 

It  was  also  much  to  be  regretted,  that  when  in  company  he  did  not 
keep  habitually  in  view  the  good  which  his  great  tnleiits  and  high  char- 
acter qualified  liiui  to  impart.  His  conversation,  though  always  conveying 
information  on  tlie  various  subjects  generally  brought  forward  in  culti- 
vated society,  did  not  indicate  the  prevailing  purpose  of  leading  the  minds 
of  others  m  a  right  direction.  Or,  if  he  entered  society  with  this  deter- 
mination, he  frequently  permitleti  the  circumstances;  into  which  he  was 
thrown  to  divert  him  from  his  purpose,  thus  giving  away  his  admirable 
conversational  powers  to  the  mere  casual  train  of  topics,  many  of  them 
trivial  in  interest.  There  could  not  but  be  various  acute  remarks,  and 
every  now  and  then  a  piece  of  valuable  disquisition,  or  a  most  impor- 
tant sentiment,  or  an  eloquent  flow  of  striking  observations ;  yet  there 
was  not  a  systematic  bearing  towards  positive  utility.  Often,  indeed, 
has  Mr.  Hall  lamented  this  defect :  often,  as  we  have  been  returning 
from  a  party  which  he  had  kept  alive  by  the  brilliancy  and  variety  of 
his  observations,  has  he  said,  "Ah!  sir,  I  have  again  contributed  to  the 
loss  of  an  evening,  as  to  every  thing  truly  valuable  ;  go  home  with  me, 
that  we  may  spend  at  least  one  hour  in  a  manner  which  becomes  us." 

It  slioulil  be  added,  however,  that  it  was  only  in  larger  parties  that 
this  occurred.  1  never  spent  an  evening  with  him  alone,  or  vvilli  the 
addition  of  one  or  two  select  companions,  in  which  the  suWimer  pur- 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  49 

poses  of  religious  as  well  as  intellectual  intercourse  were  not  prevail- 
ingly kept  in  view. 

In  adverting  to  the  deficiencies  in  Mr.  Hall's  character,  I  must  further 
remark,  that  he  did  not  always  seem  adequately  alive  to  special  modes 
and  efforts  of  utility.  There  were  times  Avhen  his  apparent  indifference 
must  have  been  thought  scarcely  compatible  with  his  uniform  benevo- 
lence and  piety,  unless  by  those  who  were  thoroughly  aware  that  his 
infirmities  often  compelled  him  to  avoid  active  exertions,  except  those 
which  fell  within  the  range  of  ministerial  duty ;  yet,  at  other  seasons, 
he  exerted  himself  so  powerfully  and  successfully  in  favour  of  some 
grand  object,  as,  in  great  measure,  to  compensate  for  his  habitually 
avoiding  the  ordinary  detail  of  minor  operations. 

His  defects,  on  whatever  occasions  they  showed  themselves,  were  as 
remote  as  possible  from  littleness,  and  were  such  as  would  be  most 
naturally  found  in  a  noble  character.  We  may  hence  learn,  however, 
that  a  man,  though  far  enriched  above  his  fellows  with  intellectual  and 
spiritual  endowments,  still  manifests  the  frailties  of  a  fallen  being  ;  and 
that  it  always  behooves  us,  therefore,  with  Christian  discrimination,  to 
distinguish  between  grace  and  nature,  to  give  to  God  his  own  glory,  and 
to  refer  to  men  their  own  infirmities. 

But  I  must  return  from  this  digression.  During  the  early  months  of 
the  year  1803,  the  pain  in  Mr.  HalPs  back  increased  both  in  intenseness 
and  continuity,  depriving  him  almost  always  of  refreshing  sleep,  and 
depressing  his  spirits  to  an  unusual  degree.  On  one  of  his  visits  to 
Kettering  and  its  neighbourhood,  he  consulted  Dr.  Kerr,  of  Northamp- 
ton, who  recommended  him  to  reside  a  few  miles  from  Cambridge,  and 
to  have  recourse  to  horse  exercise.  In  consequence  of  this  advice,  he 
took  a  house  at  Shelford,  a  village  about  five  miles  from  Cambridge ; 
and  the  frequent  and  short  journeys  on  horseback  which  thus  became 
necessary  for  a  season  seemed  beneficial.  Yet  the  advantage  was  not 
of  long  continuance.  He  missed  his  delightful  evenings  spent  in  the 
society  of  the  intelligent  classes  of  the  congregation  (of  whom  there 
was  a  much  higher  proportion  than  in  most  congregations),  and  he 
missed  still  more  the  simple,  heart-refreshing  remarks  of  the  poor  of 
his  flock,  whose  pious  converse  had  always  been  peculiarly  soothing  to 
his  mind.  It  is  true,  he  there  enjoyed  intercourse  with  two  excellent 
men,  both  of  whom  he  cordially  esteemed — Mr.  James  Nutter,  a  valuable 
member  of  his  church  at  Cambridge,  and  the  Rev.  Thomas  Thomason, 
afterward  one  of  the  East  India  Company's  chaplains  at  Calcutta.  With 
these  friends  he  sometimes  spent  his  evenings ;  and  in  company  with  the 
latter,  who  was  Mr.  Simeon's  curate  at  Trinity  Church,  he  frequently 
rode  to  Cambridge  on  the  Sunday  mornings  ;  these  brothers  in  the  gospel 
ministry,  proceeding  thus  pleasantly,  "  in  the  unity  of  the  Spirit,"  to 
their  respective  spheres  of  labour  in  the  church  of  God.  Gratifying, 
however,  as  this  intercourse  was,  both  to  Mr.  Hall  and  his  valued  neigh- 
bours, it  still  left  him  too  much  alone,  and  too  much  exposed  to  all  the 
morbid  influences  of  a  disordered  body,  and  of  a  mind  overstrained. 
Often  has  he  been  known  to  sit  close  at  his  reading,  or  yet  more 
intensely  engaged  in  abstract  thought,  for  more  than  twelve  hours  in 
the  day  ;  so  that,  when  one  or  both  of  his  kind  friends  have  called  upon 
him,  in  the  hope  of  drawing  him  from  his  solitude,  they  have  found  him 
in  such  a  state  of  nervous  ^excitement  as  led  them  to  unite  their  efforts 
in  persuading  him  to  take  some  mild  narcotic,  and  retire  to  rest.  The 
painful  result  may  be  anticipated.  This  noble  mind  lost  its  equilibrium  ; 
and  he  who  had  so  long  been  the  theme  of  universal  admii-ation  now 
became  the  subject  of  as  extensive  a  sympathy.     This  event  occurred 

Vol.  hi.— 4 


50  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

in  November,  1804.  Mr.  Hall  was  placed  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Arnold, 
of  Leicester,  whose  attention,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  in  about  two 
months  restored  him  both  to  mental  and  bodily  health. 

During  this  afflictive  suspension  of  his  pastoral  duties  his  church  and 
congregation  gave  the  most  unequivocal  proofs  that  they  had  caught 
somewhat  of  his  generous  and  exalted  spirit,  and  that  they  were  desirous 
to  conduce  to  his  welfare  in  temporal  things,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
spiritual  blessings  he  had  been  the  means  of  conveying  to  them.  They 
set  on  foot  a  subscription,  to  which  themselves  contributed  most  libe- 
rally, and  which,  by  the  aid  of  other  friends,  became  sufficient  to  produce, 
besides  a  life  annuity  of  one  hundred  pounds,  a  further  sum  nearly  equal 
vested  in  government  securities,  the  latter  to  be  at  his  own  disposal  at 
death:  each  sum  being  properly  vested  in  trustees.* 

In  April,  1805,  he  resumed  his  ministerial  functions  at  Cambridge  : 
but,  it  being  deemed  inexpedient  for  him  to  reoccupy  his  house  at 
Shelford,  he  engaged  another  at  Foulmire,  about  nine  miles  from  Cam- 
bridge. This  spot,  doubtless,  was  unwisely  selected ;  as  his  opportu- 
nities of  social  intercourse  with  old  and  intimate  friends  were  almost 
entirely  cut  off,  and  he  was  thus  left  to  feed  more  upon  his  own  thoughts 
than  in  any  preceding  part  of  his  life.  The  evil  did  not  show  itself  in 
his  public  ministrations,  which  were  regarded  as  more  devout,  intel- 
lectual, and  impressive  than  they  had  ever  been ;  nor  in  any  diminution 
of  relish  for  works  in  which  genius  stood  forth  in  defence  of  religious 
truth;  as  his  exquisite  critique  upon  Foster's  Essays,  written  at  this 
period,  amply  evinces. |  Eut  the  evils  resulting  from  solitude  and  a 
return  of  his  old  pain  Avith  more  than  its  usual  severity,  ere  long  began 
to  show  themselves.  Sleepless  nights,  habitual  exclusion  from  society, 
a  complete  self-absorption,  and  the  incessant  struggle  between  what 
was  due  to  a  church  and  congregation  which  had  given  such  signal 
proofs  of  affection  for  him,  a>id  what  he  felt  to  be  necessary  for  his 
own  preservation,  a  speedy  removal  from  air  and  scenery  that  more 
and  more  impaired  his  health  and  oppressed  his  spirits :  these,  at  about 
twelve  months  after  his  former  attack  at  Shelford,  produced  a  recur- 
rence of  the  same  malady,  which  again  laid  him  aside  from  public  duty. 

He  soon,  however,  recovered  the  complete  balance  of  his  mental 
powers,  under  the  judicious  care  of  the  late  Dr.  Cox,  of  Fish  Ponds, 
near  Bristol.  It  was  regarded  as  essential  to  the  permanent  possession 
of  mental  health  and  vigour,  that  he  should  resign  the  pastoral  office  at 
Cambridge,  that  he  should,  for  a  year,  at  least,  seek  retirement  in  a  spot 
selected  and  cordially  approved  by  himself,  abstain  from  preaching,  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  avoid  all  strong  excitement. 

Pursuant  to  tliis  advice,  he  sent  in  his  letter  of  resignation,  which 
with  that  from  the  church  in  reply,  is  inserted  in  the  present  volume. J 
Thus  terminated  a  connexion  which  had  subsisted  for  fifteen  years, 
and  had  been  of  great  benefit  to  Mr.  Hall's  character;  while,  by  the 
Divine  blessing  upon  his  labours,  it  had  transformed  a  society  that 
was  rapidly  sinking  under  the  influence  of  cold  or  disputatious  specu- 
lators, into  a  llourishing  church  and  congregation,  "  bringing  forth  the 
fruits  of  righteousness,"  and  shining  in  the  lustre  of  a  consistent 
Christian  profession.  It  is  pleasing  to  remark  that  the  attachjuenl  on 
both  sides  remained  undiminished  until  Mr.  Hall's  death. 

On  recovering  from  this  attack,  he  received  a  letter  from  his  old  friend 
Sir  James  Mackintosh,  then  Recorder  of  Bombay,  which  was  written 
soon  after  Sir  James  had  heard  of  his  first  indisposition.     It  is  highly 

*  See,  also,  the  note  to  p.  227.  t  See  vol.  ii.  p.  233-248.  t  See  p.  226-228. 


AT  CAMBRIDGE.  51 

interesting,  both  as  a  memorial  of  genuine  friendship,  and  as  a  beautiful 
exhibition  of  elevated  and  delicate  sentiment.  My  insertion  of  it  will 
not,  however,  be  regarded  as  a  proof  that  I  entirely  adopt  the  theory 
which  the  writer  so  elegantly  sketched. 

"  My  dear  Hall,  "Bombay,  Sept.  21,  1805. 

"  I  believe  that  in  the  hurry  of  leaving  England,  I  did  not  answer  the  letter 
which  you  wrote  to  me  in  December,  1803.  I  did  not,  however,  forget  your  inter- 
esting young  friend,  from  whom  I  have  had  one  letter  from  Constantinople,  and  to 
whotn  I  have  twice  written  at  Cairo,  where  he  now  is.  No  request  of  yours  could, 
indeed,  be  lightly  esteemed  by  me. 

"  It  happened  to  me  a  few  days  ago,  in  drawing  up  (merely  for  my  own  use)  a 
short  sketch  of  my  life,  that  I  had  occasion  to  give  a  faithful  statement  of  my 
recollection  of  the  circumstances  of  my  first  acquaintance  with  you.  On  the  most 
impartial  survey  of  my  early  life,  I  could  see  nothing  which  tended  so  much  to 
excite  and  invigorate  my  understanding,  and  to  direct  it  towards  high,  though, 
perhaps,  scarcely  accessible  objects,  as  my  intimacy  with  you.  Five-and-twenty 
years  are  now  past  since  we  first  met ;  yet  hardly  any  thing  has  occurred  since 
which  has  left  a  deeper  or  more  agreeable  impression  on  ray  mind.  I  now  remem- 
ber the  extraordinary  union  of  brilliant  fancy  with  acute  intellect,  which  would  have 
excited  more  admiration  than  it  has  done,  if  it  had  been  dedicated  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  great  and  the  learned,  instead  of  being  consecrated  to  the  far  more 
noble  office  of  consoling,  instructing,  and  reforming  the  poor  and  the  forgotten. 

"  It  was  then  too  early  for  me  to  discover  that  extreme  purity,  which  in  a  mind 
preoccupied  with  the  low  realities  of  life,  would  have  been  no  natural  companion 
of  so  much  activity  and  ardour,  but  which  thoroughly  detached  you  from  the  world, 
and  made  you  the  inhabitant  of  regions  where  alone  it  is  possible  to  be  always 
active  without  impurity,  and  where  the  ardour  of  your  sensibility  had  unbounded 
scope  amid  the  inexhaustible  combinations  of  beauty  and  excellence. 

"  It  is  not  given  to  us  to  preserve  an  exact  medium.  Nothing  is  so  difficult  as 
to  decide  how  much  ideal  models  ought  to  be  combined  with  experience ;  how 
much  of  the  future  should  be  let  into  the  present,  in  the  progress  of  the  human 
mind.  To  ennoble  and  purify,  without  raising  us  above  the  sphere  of  our  useful- 
ness,— to  qualify  us  for  what  we  ought  to  seek,  without  unfitting  us  for  that  to 
which  we  must  submit, — are  great  and  difficult  problems,  which  can  be  but  imper- 
fectly solved. 

"  It  is  certain  the  child  may  he  too  manly,  not  only  for  his  present  enjoyments, 
but  for  his  future  prospects.  Perhaps,  my  good  friend,  you  have  fallen  into  this 
error  of  superior  natures.  From  this  error  has,  I  think,  arisen  that  calamity  with 
which  it  has  pleased  Providence  to  visit  you,  which  to  a  mind  less  fortified  by 
reason  and  religion  I  should  not  dare  to  mention,  but  which  I  really  consider  in 
you  as  little  more  than  the  indignant  struggles  of  a  pure  mind  with  the  low  realities 
which  surround  it, — the  fervent  aspirations  after  regions  more  congenial  to  it, — 
and  a  momentary  blindness,  produced  by  the  fixed  contemplation  of  objects  too 
bright  for  human  vision.  I  may  say,  in  this  case,  in  a  far  grander  sense  than  that 
in  which  the  words  were  originally  spoken  by  our  great  poet, 


-And  yet 


The  light  which  led  astray  was  light  from  heaven.' 

"  On  your  return  to  us,  you  must  surely  have  found  consolation  in  the  only  ter- 
restrial produce  which  is  pure  and  truly  exquisite  ;  in  the  affections  and  attachments 
you  have  inspired,  which  you  were  most  worthy  to  inspire,  and  which  no  human 
pollution  can  rob  of  their  heavenly  nature.  If  I  were  to  prosecute  the  reflections  and 
indulge  the  feelings  which  at  this  moment  fill  my  mind,  I  should  soon  venture  to 
doubt  whether,  for  a  calamity  derived  from  such  a  source,  and  attended  with  such 
consolations,  I  should  so  far  yield  to  the  vievvs  and  opinions  of  men  as  to  seek  to 
condole  with  yon.  But  I  check  myself,  and  I  exhort  you,  my  most  worthy  friend, 
to  check  your  best  propensities,  for  the  sake  of  attaining  their  object.  You  cannot 
live /or  men  without  living  irZ/A  them.  Serve  God  then  by  the  active  service  of 
men.  Contemplate  more  the  good  you  can  do  tlian  the  evil  vou  can  only  lament. 
Allow  yourself  to  see  the  loveliness  of  virtue  amid  all  its  imperfections  ;  and  employ 

4* 


53  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

your  moral  imagination,  not  so  much  by  bringing  it  into  contrast  with  the  model 
of  ideal  perfection,  as  in  gently  blending  some  of  the  fainter  colours  of  the  latter 
with  the  brighter  hues  of  real  experienced  excellence ;  thus  heightening  their 
beauty,  instead  of  broadening  tlie  shade  which  must  surround  us  till  we  awaken 
from  this  dream  in  other  spheres  of  existence. 

"My  habits  of  life  have  not  been  favourable  to  this  train  of  meditation.  I  have 
been  too  busy  or  too  trifling.  My  nature  perhaps  would  have  been  better  consulted 
if  I  had  been  placed  in  a  quieter  station,  where  speculation  might  have  been  my 
business,  and  visions  of  the  fair  and  good  my  chief  recreation.  When  I  approach 
you,  I  feel  a  powerful  attraction  towards  this  which  seems  the  natural  destiny  of 
my  mind  ;  but  habit  opposes  obstacles,  and  duty  calls  me  off,  and  reason  frowns 
on  him  who  wastes  that  reflection  on  a  destiny  independent  of  him  which  he  ought 
to  reserve  for  actions  of  which  he  is  the  master. 

"  In  another  letter  I  may  write  to  you  on  miscellaneous  subjects ;  at  present  I 
cannot  bring  my  mind  to  speak  of  them.     Let  me  hear  from  you  soon  and  often. 
"  Farewell,  my  dear  friend, 

"  Yours  ever  most  faithfully, 

"  James  Mackintosh." 

Two  visitations  of  so  humiliating-  a  calamity  within  the  compass  of 
a  year  deeply  affected  Mr.  Hall's  mind.  Happily,  however,  for  himself 
and  for  the  world,  his  spirits  soon  recovered  their  wonted  tone  ;  and 
the  permanent  impression  on  his  character  was  exclusively  religious. 
His  own  decided  persuasion  was,  that  however  vivid  his  convictions  of 
religious  truth,  and  of  the  necessity  of  a  consistent  course  of  evangelical 
obedience  had  formerly  been,  and  however  correct  his  doctrinal  senti- 
ments during  the  last  four  or  five  years,  yet  that  he  did  not  undergo  a 
thorough  transformation  of  character,  a  complete  renewal  of  his  heart 
and  affections,  until  the  first  of  these  seizures.  Some  of  his  Cambridge 
friends,  who  visited  him  at  Shelford  previously  to  his  removal  to  Dr. 
Arnold's,  and  witnessed  his  deep  prostration  of  soul  while  he  read  the 
fifty-first  Psalm,  and  made  each  verse  the  subject  of  penitent  confession 
and  of  a  distinct  prayer,  were  rather  inclined  to  concur  with  him  as  to 
the  correctness  of  the  opinion.  Be  this,  however,  as  it  may  (and  the 
wonderful  revelations  of  "  the  great  day"  can  alone  remove  the  doubt), 
there  can  be  no  question  that  from  this  period  he  seemed  more  to  live 
under  the  prevailing  recollection  of  his  entire  dependence  upon  God, 
that  his  habits  were  more  devotional  than  they  had  ever  before  been, 
his  exercises  more  fervent  and  more  elevated. 

In  a  letter  written  to  his  friend  Mr.  PhiUips,  of  Clapham,  after  his 
recovery,  he  thus  adverts  to  his  afflictions  : 

"  I  cannot  look  back  upon  the  events  which  have  befallen  me  without  admira- 
tion and  gratitude.  I  am  a  monument  of  the  goodness  and  of  the  severity  of 
God.  My  sufferings  have  been  extreme,  and  the  kindness  of  God,  in  interposing 
in  my  behalf,  unspeakable.  Pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  may  retain  an 
indelible  sense  of  the  mercies  received,  and  that  the  inconceivable  afflictions  I 
have  undergone  may  '  work  for  me  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.'  I  am 
often  afraid  lest  it  should  be  with  me  as  with  the  ancient  Israelites,  who,  after  they 
had  sung  the  praises  of  God,  '  soon  forgot  his  works.'  O  !  that  a  life  so  signally 
redeemed  from  destruction  may  be  as  signally  employed  in  that  which  is  alone 
the  true  end  of  life,  the  service  of  God.  But  my  heart  is  'like  a  deceitful  bow,' 
continually  prone  to  turn  aside ;  so  that  nothing  but  the  powerful  impulse  of 
Divine  grace  can  fix  it  in  a  right  aim." 

At  this  time,  I  believe,  Mr.  Hall,  under  the  persuasion  to  which  I 
have  just  alluded,  made  a  solemn  dedication  of  himself  to  God,  renew- 
ing the  act  annually  on  the  recurrence  of  his  birthday.  One  of  these 
touching  and  impressive  records,  which  has  been  found  among  his 
papers,  Avill,  I  feel  assured,  be  read  with  deep  interest. 


AT  LEICESTER.  53 


*'An  Act  of  solemn  Dedication  of  myself  to  God. 

"  O  Lord,  thou  that  searchest  the  heart  and  triest  the  reins  of  the 
children  of  men,  be  thou  the  witness  of  what  I  am  now  about,  in  the 
strength  of  thy  grace,  to  attempt :  that  grace  I  humbly  and  earnestly 
implore,  to  give  validity  and  effect  to  that  act  of  solemn  engagement 
of  myself  to  thy  service  on  which  I  am  about  to  enter.  '  Thou 
knowest  my  foolishness,  and  my  sins  are  none  of  thein  hid  from  thee.' 
'  I  was  born  in  sin,  and  in  iniquity  did  my  mother  conceive  me.' 
I  am  an  apostate,  guilty  branch  of  an  apostate  guilty  root,  and  my  life 
has  been  a  series  of  rebellions  and  transgressions,  in  which  I  have 
walked  '  according  to  the  course  of  this  world ;  according  to  the  Prince 
of  the  power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that  now  worketh  in  the  children  of  dis- 
obedience.'' How  shall  I  confess  my  transgressions  before  thee  ;  what 
numbers  can  reach  ;  what  words  can  adequately  express  them  !  '  My 
iniquities  have  increased  over  my  head,  and  my  transgressions  have  grown  up 
unto  Heaven.''  O  Lord,  1  esteem  it  a  wonderful  mercy  that  I  have  not 
long  since  been  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  my  sins,  and  been  sent  to  hell 
before  I  had  an  opportunity  or  a  heart  to  repent.  Being  assured  from 
the  Word  of  God  of  thy  gracious  and  merciful  nature,  and  of  thy  wil- 
lingness to  pardon  and  accept  penitent  believing  sinners  on  the  ground 
of  the  blood  and  righteousness  of  thine  own  adorable  Son,  '  who  died, 
the  just  for  the  unjust,  to  bring  them  to  God,'  and  that '  him  that  cometh 
to  him  he  will  in  nowise  cast  out,'  I  do  most  humbly  prostrate  myself 
at  the  footstool  of  his  cross,  and  through  him  enter  into  thy  covenant. 
I  disclaim  all  right  to  myself  from  henceforth,  to  ray  soul,  my  body,  my 
time,  my  health,  my  reputation,  my  talents,  or  any  thing  that  belongs  to 
me.  I  confess  myself  to  be  the  property  of  the  glorious  Redeemer,  as 
one  whom  I  humbly  hope  he  has  redeemed  by  his  blood  to  be  part  of 
'  the  first-fruits  of  his  creatures.' 

"  I  do  most  cheerfully  and  cordially  receive  him  in  all  his  offices,  as 
my  Priest,  my  Prophet,  and  my  King.  I  dedicate  myself  to  him,  to 
serve,  love,  and  trust  in  him  as  my  life  and  my  salvation  to  my  life's 
end. 

"  I  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works,  the  flesh,  and  the  world, 
with  heartfelt  regret  that  I  should  have  been  enslaved  by  them  so  long. 
I  do  solemnly  and  deliberately  take  thee  to  be  my  full  and  satisfying 
good,  and  eternal  portion  in  and  through  thine  adorable  Son  the 
Redeemer,  and  by  the  assistance  of  the  blessed  Spirit  of  all  grace,  the 
third  Person  in  the  triune  God,  whom  I  take  to  be  my  Sanctifier  and 
Comforter  to  the  end  of  time,  and  through  a  happy  eternity,  praying 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  may  deign  to  take  perpetual  possession  of  my 
heart  and  fix  his  abode  there. 

"  I  do  most  solemnly  devote  and  give  up  myself  to  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  agreeably  to  the  terms  of  the  gospel  cove- 
nant, and  in  humble  expectation  of  the  blessings  it  ascertains  to  sincere 
believers.  I  call  thee  to  witness,  O  God!  the  truth  and  reality  of 
this  surrender  of  all  I  have,  and  all  I  am,  to  thee ;  and,  conscious  of 
the  unspeakable  deceitfulness  of  my  heart,  I  humbly  and  earnestly 
implore  the  influence  of  thy  Spirit  to  enable  me  to  stand  steadfast  in 
this  covenant,  as  well  as  an  interest  in  the  blood  of  the  Son,  that  I  may 
be  forgiven  in  those  instances  (alas  I  that  such  an  idea  should  be  pos- 
sible) in  which  I  may,  in  any  degree,  swerve  from  it. 

"  Done  this  [2d]  day  of  May,  1809,  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
Leicester.  "  Robert  Hall." 


54  -  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Mr.  Hall,  on  his  removal  from  Dr.  Cox's,  spent  some  months  among 
his  relatives  and  friends  in  Leicestershire.  At  Arnsby  he  retraced  the 
scenes  of  his  youth,  often  visited  the  grave-yard,  which  would  natu- 
rally awaken  many  interesting  recollections  of  his  early  life,  and  on 
these  occasions  he  has  more  than  once  been  seen  kneehng  at  his  father's 
grave,  engaged  in  earnest  prayer.  He  afterward  resided,  for  a  time,  at 
Enderby,  a  pleasant  and  sequestered  village,  five  miles  from  Leicester, 
where,  by  the  united  influence  of  calm  retirement  and  gentle  sponta- 
neous occupation,  he  gradually  regained  his  bodily  health,  with  great 
mental  tranquillity,  and  a  renewed  capacity  for  usefulness  in  the  church. 

His  friends  Dr.  Ryland  and  Mr.  Fuller,  persuaded  of  the  benefits  that 
would  flow  from  drawing  his  attention  to  a  specific  object,  requested 
him  to  investigate  the  critical  peculiarities  of  some  dilRcult  texts  in  the 
New  Testament,  respecting  which  Dr.  Marshman  had  asked  the  opinion 
of  his  friends  in  England.  This  judicious  application  directed  his 
thoughts  to  some  of  his  old  and  favourite  inquiries,  and  produced  the 
most  salutary  elfects.*  From  this  he  passed  to  other  literary  occupa- 
tions, thence  to  closer  biblical  study,  and,  in  due  time,  when  his 
strength  and  self-possession  were  adequately  restored  to  permit  the 
exertion  without  injury,  he  returned  to  the  delightful  work  of  "  pro- 
claiming the  good  tidings  of  peace." 

He  first  preached  in  some  of  the  villages  around  him ;  and  then, 
occasionally,  to  a  small  congregation  assembling  at  a  chapel  in  Harvey- 
iane,  Leicester,  which  had  several  years  before  been  under  the  care  of 
that  eminent  man  Dr.  Carey,  now  of  Serampore.  The  congregation 
had  been  diminishing  for  some  years,  and  at  this  time  did  not  exceed 
two  hundred  and  fifty :  the  church  consisted  of  seventy-six  members. 
After  having  preached  to  them  a  few  months,  he  accepted  an  invitation 
to  become  their  stated  pastor ;  and  his  ministerial  labours  were  soon 
followed  by  tokens  of  good.  "  The  people,"  said  he,  in  a  letter  to 
Dr.  Ryland,  "  are  a  simple-hearted,  affectionate,  praying  people,  to 
whom  I  preach  with  more  pleasure  tlian  to  the  more  refined  audience 
at  Cambridge.  We  have  had,  tlirough  mercy,  some  small  addition,  and 
hope  for  more.  Our  meetings  in  general,  our  prayer-meetings  in  par- 
ticular, are  well  attended." 

With  this  church  he  continued  connected  nearly  twenty  years.  The 
church  and  congregation  steadily  increased  during  that  long  interval, 
and  scarcely  any  thing  of  moment  occurred  to  interrupt  their  internal 
peace.  The  place  of  worsliip,  which  when  Mr.  Hall  first  settled  there 
would  not  conveniently  hold  four  hundred  persons,  was  enlarged  in  1809 
for  the  reception  of  about  eight  hundred ;  and  in  1817  a  second  enlarge- 
ment rendered  it  capable  of  accommodating  a  thousand  persons.  In 
1826,  at  the  close  of  Mr.  Hall's  labours  there,  the  place  was  comfort- 
ably filled,  and  the  members  of  the  church,  besides  those  who  it  is 
believed  had  gone  to  their  eternal  reward,  amounted  to  nearly  three 
hundred.  More  than  a  hundred  of  those  who  constituted  the  evening 
congregation  were  pious  members  of  the  Churcli  of  England. 

In  the  autumn  of  1807  Mr.  Hall  removed  from  Enderby  to  a  house 
in  Leicester,  which  he  engaged  partly  tliat  he  might  more  conveniently 
associate  with  the  people  of  his  charge,  and  partly  in  anticipation  of 
his  marriage,  which  took  place  in  March,  1808.     This  event  gave  great 

*  For  more  tlmn  two  years  he  employed  much  time  in  a  critical  examination  of  thn  New  Testa- 
ment, and  ill  arranging  surli  corrected  translations  as  lie  deemed  iinpnriant,  with  short  reasons  for 
his  deviating  from  the  aiitliorized  version  ;  intending  to  publisli  tlir  whole  in  a  pami)hlet  of  about 
one  hundred  pages.  Just  as  he  had  fmislied  this  work,  lie  lor  tlie  lirst  time  saw  JMackiiiglit's  new 
translation  of  the  Apostolic  Epistles;  and  finding  himself  anticipated  in  many  of  the  corrections 
which  he  thought  most  valuable,  destroyed  his  manuscript. 


AT  LEICESTER.  '     55 

and  sincere  satisfaction  to  his  old  and  intimate  friends,  most  of  whom 
had  long  regretted  that  one  so  evidently  formed  for  domestic  enjoy- 
ments should  for  so  many  years  have  lived  without  attaining  them ; 
and  had  no  doubt,  indeed,  that  an  earlier  marriage  would,  by  checking 
his  propensity  to  incessant  retirement  and  mental  abstraction,  have 
preserved  him  from  the  heavy  afflictions  whicli  had  befallen  him.  As 
Mrs.  Hall  still  lives  to  mourn  the  loss  of  her  incomparable  husband,  I 
must  not  permit  myself  more  than  to  testify  how  highly  he  estimated 
her  kindness  and  alfection,  and  how  often,  in  his  conversation,  as  well 
as  in  his  letters,  he  expressed  his  gratitude  to  God  for  giving  him  so 
pious,  prudent,  and  devoted  a  wife.  Of  their  five  children,  three 
daughters  and  one  son  survive.     Another  son  died  in  1814.* 

Mr.  Hall's  residence  at  Leicester  was  not  only  of  longer  continuance 
than  at  any  other  place,  but  I  doubt  not  that  it  was  the  period  in  which 
he  was  most  happy,  active^  and  useful.  His  domestic  comfort  at  once 
contributed  to  a  more  uniform  flow  of  spirits  than  he  had  for  some  time 
experienced,  and  greatly  to  the  regularity  of  his  habits.  The  increase 
both  of  attentive  hearers  and  of  the  number  among  them  who  were 
admitted  to  church-fellowship,  supplied  constant  reason  for  encourage- 
ment and  thankfulness.  He  was  also  within  the  reach  of  ministers  and 
others,  of  diff"erent  persuasions,  men  of  decided  piety,  and  some  of 
them  of  considerable  attainments,  who  knew  how  to  appreciate  the 
extraordinary  advantages  of  frequent  intercourse  with  such  an  individual ; 
thus  yielding  him  the  delight  of  an  interchange  of  soul  and  sentiment, 
besides  that  fruit  of  friendship  so  aptly  characterized  by  Lord  Bacon : — 
"  Whosoever  hath  his  mind  fraught  with  many  thoughts,  his  wits  and 
understanding  do  clarify  and  break  up  in  the  communicating  and  discours- 
ing with  another — he  tosseth  his  thoughts  more  easily — he  marshalleth 
them  more  orderly — he  seeth  how  they  look  when  they  are  turned  into 
words — and  he  waxeth  wiser  tlian  himself,  often  more  by  an  hour's 
discourse  than  by  a  day's  meditation."! 

Leicester,  from  its  situation  in  the  heart  of  the  midland  counties,  as 
well  as  from  its  importance  in  a  leading  inland  manufacture,  was  the 
centre  of  influence  and  operation  to  a  considerable  distance  around ; 
and  the  concurrence  of  many  favourable  circumstances  had  rendered  it 
the  centre  also  of  a  religious  influence,  and  of  religious  operations, 
diff'using  themselves  incessantly  with  a  new  and  growing  impulse.  To 
this  the  zeal  and  activity  of  the  late  Rev.  Thomas  Robinson  of  Leices- 
ter, and  of  Mr.  Hall's  father,  had  greatly  contributed ;  and  many  clergy- 
men and  dissenting  ministers  in  Leicestershire  and  tlie  neighbouring 
counties,  were,  in  their  respective  fields  of  labour,  instrumental  in 
producing  the  most  cheering  and  successful  results.  The  attention  of 
the  Christian  world  had  been  recently  invited,  or,  I  might  perhaps  say, 
summoned.,  to  promote  the  noble  objects  of  missionary  societies,  Bible 
societies,  Sunday  and  other  schools  for  the  instruction  of  the  poor ;  and 
the  summons  had  been  obeyed  in  a  universality  and  cordiality  of  vigor- 
ous Christian  eftbrt,  and  in  a  spirit  of  conciliation  and  harmony,  such 
as  the  world  had  not  yet  known.     Placed  in  the  midst  of  so  extensive 

*  See  p.  248. 

t  Mr.  Hall,  however,  from  the  midway  position  of  Leicester,  between  London  and  the 
large  towns  in  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  was  much  exposed  to  interruptions.  (See  p.  282.) 
Many  persons  who  had  but  a  slight  acquaintance  with  him  would  invariably  spend  a  day  at 
Leicester  in  their  way  from  London  to  Liverpool,  Manchester,  Sheffield,  &c.,  or  from  either  of 
those  places  to  London,  that  they  might,  during  the  greater  part  of  it,  enjoy  his  society ;  and, 
though  he  often  felt  this  to  be  a  real  annoyance,  yet  such  was  his  feelmg  of  what  was  due  to 
strangers  in  point  of  courtesy,  that  it  was  not  until  he  had  sustamed  the  inconvenience  lor  almost 
twenty  years  that  he  would  consent  that  this  class  of  visiters  should  be  informed  he  would  not 
be  at  leisure  to  see  them  until  evening. 


56  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

a  sphere  of  benevolent  and  sacred  influence,  Mr.  Hall  was  soon  roused 
to  a  measure  of  activity  and  a  diversity  of  employment  to  which  he 
had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  The  Bible  Society  at  Leicester,  mission- 
ary societies  there  and  all  around,  asked  and  received  his  aid ;  and 
these,  with  the  ditferent  public  services  of  frequent  occurrence  among 
orthodox  dissenters,  gave  occasion  to  the  happiest  exercise  of  his  varied 
powers. 

His  religious  character  thus  became  correctly  estimated  by  a  much 
larger  portion  of  the  community.  Instead  of  being  known  chiefly  to 
men  of  reading  and  taste,  as  an  author  who  had  appeared  before  the 
world  on  a  few  momentous  occasions,  and,  after  a  striking  exhibition  of 
inteUectual  and  moral  energy,  had  hastened  back  to  his  retirement,  he 
now  became  much  more  known  and  revered  as  the  correct  and  eloquent 
interpreter  of  the  Christian  faith,  the  intrepid  assertor  of  its  inflnite 
superiority  to  all  human  systems  of  philosophy  or  morals.  Long  had 
he  been  admired  by  the  inteUigent  as  a  great  man  ;  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  now  moved  with  so  much  philanthropic  ardour  caused  him 
to  be  regarded,  not  merely  by  these,  but  by  pious  men  of  every  per- 
suasion, as  a  good  man,  rejoicing  to  consecrate  his  best  faculties  to  the 
specific  objects  of  the  Christian  ministry,  and  such  purposes  of  enlarged 
exertion  as  were  fully  compatible  with  his  holy  calling. 

Nor  were  these  efibrts,  and  this  high  estimate  of  their  value,  confined 
to  the  field  of  activity  he  thus  occupied.  He  had,  on  quitting  Bristol  in 
1791,  consented  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  his  friends  there  every  two 
years.  He  had  also  made  a  similar  arrangement  for  visiting  Cambridge, 
where  the  members  of  his  former  congregation  had  peculiar  claims  upon 
him.  Although  his  invariable  dread  of  notoriety,  and  his  dislike  of  the 
bustle  of  the  metropolis,  caused  his  visits  there  to  be  "  few  and  far 
between,"  yet  they  occurred  sufficiently  often  to  excite  almost  uni- 
versally the  highest  admiration  of  his  singular  qualities  as  a  preacher, 
and  to  convince  many  who  previously  had  contemplated  the  evangelical 
system  of  religion  with  great  disrelish  that  it  was  the  only  foundation 
of  elevated  morality,  and  that  its  cordial  adoption  was  not  necessarily 
repugnant  to  genius,  learning,  and  intellectual  cultivation. 

wherever  he  went,  he  was  called  to  address  overflowing  congrega- 
tions, and  commonly  of  a  remarkably  mixed  character.  Churchmen 
and  dissenters ;  men  of  rank  and  influence,  individuals  in  lower  stations ; 
men  of  simple  piety,  and  others  of  deep  theological  knowledge  ;  men 
who  admired  Christianity  as  a  beautiful  system,  and  those  who  received 
it  into  the  heart  by  faith;  men  in  doubt,  others  involved  in  unbelief: 
all  resorted  to  the  place  where  he  was  announced  as  the  preacher. 
Frequently  he  was  apprized  of  this  peculiarity  in  the  structure  of  the 
auditory,  and  whenever  that  was  the  case,  the  striking  appropriation  of 
the  sermon  to  the  assembly  was  always  manifest.  Of  this  the  readei 
will  have  ample  evidence  in  the  sermons  inserted  in  this  volume,  many 
of  which  were  delivered  on  public  occasions.* 

*  That  the  reader  may  not  suspect  I  overrate  the  Impression  made  hy  Mr.  Hall  upon  those  who 
were  not  his  imlmales,  nor  had  fully  adopted  his  scheme  of  theolosy,  1  insert  in  Appendix,  Note 
C,  the  late  Mr.  John  Scott's  elegant  and  discriminating  sketch  of  iiis  powers  as  a  preacher  and 
writer. 

While  this  sheet  was  going  through  the  press,  I  accidentally  found  among  some  old  letters  one 
from  a  friend  residing  in  France,  in  wtii'li  there  was  the  following  allusion  to  Mr.  Hall  liy  a  French 
Protestant  clergyman,  who  was  visiting  Bristol  in  Sept.  1^22.  In  a  letter  addressed  to  another  I'rot- 
estant  minister,  Mr.  Kerpezdron,  of  Aulnay,  he  says, 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Hubert  Hall  of  Leicester,  last  Tuesday  morning  ;  but  his  sermon  was  so  great,  so 
good,  so  elociuent,  so  simple,  so  pious,  in  a  word,  socomplete  a  piece  of  pulpit  oratory,  that  I  cannot 
tell  you  any  thing  about  it,  e.vcept  that  it  has  made  an  indelible  impression  on  my  mind.  I  thought 
when  I  came  out  that  I  never  could  preach  again." 


AT  LEICESTER.  57 

Mr.  Hall's  writings  during  his  residence  at  Leicester,  though  by  no 
means  numerous,  tended  greatly  to  augment  his  influence  upon  society. 

The  first  of  these  was  published  anonymously  in  the  Eclectic  Review, 
but  left  no  room  for  hesitation  as  to  its  author.  It  was  a  critique 
upon  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Zeal  without  Innovation,"  which  he  under- 
took at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the  late  Mr.  Robinson  of  Leicester, 
"  who,  in  common  with  all  the  serious  clergy  in  those  parts,  disapproved 
the  pamphlet  highly."*  As  it  is  no  part  of  my  intention  to  present 
elaborate  accounts  of  Mr.  Hall's  successive  publications,  it  may  suffice 
for  me  to  remark  with  regard  to  this  critique,  that  while  it  places  the 
controversy  between  the  puritans  and  their  opponents  in  a  flood  of  light, 
and  exhibits  the  essential  importance  of  religious  liberty  to  the  growth, 
if  not  in  some  cases  to  the  existence,  of  genuine,  devotional  Chris- 
tianity ;  it  presents  a  more  admirable  picture  of  the  character  of  the 
evangelical  clergy,!  a  more  powerful,  liberal,  and  successful  defence  of 
their  object  and  conduct,  than  has  been,  as  yet,  accomplished  by  any 
other  person.  Many  regard  it  as  among  the  most  instructive  and  useful, 
as  well  as  among  the  most  masterly,  of  Mr.  Hall's  productions.  It 
abounds  in  keen  satire,  in  irrefragable  argument,  in  touching  description, 
in  tasteful  imagery,  in  exquisite  diction,  and  in  sentiments  of  a  weight 
and  worth  only  to  be  fully  estimated  by  men  whose  minds  are  elevated 
above  the  prejudices  which  tie  us  down  to  sects  and  parties,  and  can 
rejoice  at  the  extension  of  true  religion  among  persons  of  any  persua- 
sion, or  through  the  instrumentality  of  whomsoever  the  great  Head  of 
the  church  may  employ. J  The  value  set  by  the  public  upon  this 
disquisition  was  evinced  in  the  rapid  sale  of  three  editions,  in  a  separate 
pamphlet,  independently  of  its  circulation  in  the  Review. 

Of  the  sermons  published  by  Mr.  Hall  during  his  residence  at  Leices- 
ter, the  first  was  preached  in  behalf  of  the  Sunday-school  connected 
with  his  own  congregation,  and  appeared  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Advantages  of  Knowledge  to  the  Lower  Classes."  The  subject  is  not 
precisely  adapted  to  the  decorations  of  eloquence ;  for  the  deplorable 
effects  of  ignorance  and  the  blessings  of  knowledge  are  best  exhibited 
in  the  detail  of  facts,  which  admit  of  no  embellishment.  Mr.  Hall's 
desire  to  enlarge  the  capacity  for  enjoyment  among  the  lower  classes, 
as  well  as  to  promote  their  highest  welfare,  tempted  him,  however,  to 
enter  this  region  of  commonplaces,  and  thus  gave  a  fresh  opportunity 
of  showing  how  an  original  thinker  can  communicate  an  air  of  fresh- 
ness to  a  worn-out  topic,  bring  up  to  the  surface  argimients  and  illustra- 
tions that  lie  far  below  the  reach  of  ordinary  reasoners,  and  enforce 
them  with  a  warmth  and  energy  calculated  equally  to  impress  and  to 
convince.^ 

The  next  two  sermons  are  of  a  much  higher  order.  One  of  them, 
on  "  The  Discouragements  and  Supports  of  the  Christian  Minister," 
was  addressed  to  the  Rev.  James  Robertson,  on  his  ordination  over  the 

*  See  p.  233. 

t  I  use  this  term  to  avoid  a  periphrasis,  and  because  it  is  intelligible  and  strictly  charac- 
teristic. 

t  See  vol.  ij.  p.  234-289. 

^  This  sermon,  as  well  as  his  two  able  pamphlets  on  the  "  Framework  Knitters'  Fund,"  and  in 
'•  Reply  to  Cobbett  and  others"  (vol.  ii.  p.  125-154),  should  be  regarded  as  flowing  entirely  from 
his  benevolence.  This,  with  him,  had  never  been  a  fleeting  sentiment  in  occasional  operation,  but 
one  that  was  permanently  lied  by  Christian  principles.  It  was,  however,  greatly  e.xtended,  to  adopt 
his  own  language,  '•  by  those  impressions  of  tenderness,  gratitude,  and  sympathy  which  the  endear- 
ments of  domeslic  life  supply,"  and  led  him  to  investigate  the  actual  circumstances  of  the  neigh- 
bouring poor,  and  constantly  to  aim  at  the  alleviation  of  their  distress.  Not  long  after  his  marriage, 
when  his  own  pecuniary  resources  were  much  restricted,  he  proposed  to  fast  on  certain  days,  that  be 
might  have  it  in  his  power  to  distribute  more  among  the  needy:  and  he  thought  It  wrong  to  have 
more  than  two  coats  when  so  many  persons  around  him  were  clothed  in  mere  rags. 


58  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

Independent  Church  at  Stretton,  Warwickshire  ;  the  other,  which  por- 
trays the  duties,  discouragements,  and  supports  "of  the  Christian 
Missionary,"  was  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Eustace  Carey,  on  his  desig- 
nation as" a  missionary  to  India.  In  these  the  author  traces  with  a 
master  hand  the  various  sources  of  discouragement  and  consolation 
which  appertain  to  the  respective  offices  of  the  minister  and  the  mission- 
ary. Like  one  intimately  acquainted  with  comparative  anatomy,  he 
exhibits  the  points  of  agreement,  as  well  as  those  of  diversity,  in  the 
different  subjects,  with  the  most  convincing  discrimination  ;  while  con- 
versant as  well  with  the  morbid  as  the  healthy  anatomy  of  the  subjects 
before  him,  he  explores  to  its  inmost  recess  that  universal  moral  disease 
which  calls  forth  the  efforts  of  both  ministers  and  missionaries,  and 
then  (where  the  analogy  must  drop)  he  reveals  the  principles  and  the 
origin  of  an  infallible  cure.  Both  these  addresses  are  remarkable  for 
their  originality  and  variety  ;  every  topic  successively  advanced  is 
irradiated  with  eloquence,  and  glows  witli  feeling  ;  and  so  skilfully  are 
both  the  discourses  conducted,  that  wliile  they  are  avowedly  directed 
to  the  minister  and  the  missionary,  and  abound  in  the  most  valuable 
instructions  to  them  respectively,  the  private  Christian,  who  reads  with 
devout  attention,  may  derive  from  them  as  rich  instruction  for  himself, 
and  as  many  directions  for  his  own  religious  improvement,  as  though 
they  were  specifically  addressed  to  him  alone.  This,  indeed,  was  a 
decided  characteristic  of  Mr.  Hall's  sermons.  He  who  heard,  or  he 
who  read,  would  find  his  astonislnuent  and  admiration  strongly  excited ; 
but  often,  if  not  always,  the  more  his  emotion  was  enkindled  by  the 
preacher,  the  more  forcibly  was  he  compelled  to  retire  to  "the  cham- 
bers of  imagery,"  and  examine  his  own  heart. 

The  sudden  and  untimely  death  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  Wales, 
was  an  event  calculated  to  make  the  deepest  impression  upon  a  mind 
constituted  like  Mr.  Hall's.  The  illustrious  rank  of  the  victim,  her 
youth  and  recent  marriage,  the  affecting  nature  of  the  catastrophe,  its 
probable  influence  upon  the  reigning  monarch,  upon  the  succession  to 
the  throne,  and  the  welfare  of  the  nation  even  to  distant  ages  ;  all  pre- 
sented themselves  to  his  thoughts  with  the  most  heart-stirring  energy. 
He  preached  three  sermons  on  the  occasion,  of  which  many  of  the 
auditors  affirm  the  one  published  was  by  no  means  the  best.  It,  how- 
ever, by  universal  acknowledgment,  bore  the  palm  above  all  the 
numerous  valuable  sermons  that  were  then  published.  It  embraces  the 
various  topics  that  would  occur  to  a  man  of  piety,  feeling,  and  excur- 
sive thought,  on  the  contemplation  of  such  an  event, — the  mysterious- 
ness  of  God's  providence,  the  vicissitudes  of  empires,  the  aggravated 
poignancy  of  sudden  calamity  to  individuals  of  elevated  station,  "the 
uncertainty  of  life,  the  frailty  of  youth,  the  evanescence  of  beauty,  the 
nothingness  of  worldly  greatness,"  the  blindness  of  man  to  futurity, 
"  the  human  race  itself  withering"  away,  and  the  perpetuity  of  God's 
promises  as  the  great  and  noble  contrast  to  universal  fragility ;  these 
are  touched  in  succession  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  beauty,  and  sub- 
limity. In  felicity  of  diction,  in  delicacy  and  pathos,  in  the  rich  variety 
of  most  exquisite  and  instructive  trains  of  thought,  in  their  cogent 
application  to  truths  of  the  utmost  moment,  in  the  masterly  combina- 
tion of  what  in  eloquence,  philosophy,  and  religion  was  best  calculated 
to  make  a  permanent  and  salutary  impression,  this  sermon  probably 
stands  unrivalled. 

Besides  the  various  sermons  and  reviews  which  he  wrote  and  pub- 
lished during  his  residence  at  Leicester,  he  composed  for  circulation 
among  the  associated  Baptist  churches  in  the  counties  of  xSorthamp- 


AT  LEICESTER.  59 

ton,  Leicester,  and  Warwick,  two  tracts.  On  the  Work  of  the  Holy- 
Spirit,  and  On  Hearing  the  Word ;  both  deeply  imbued  with  simple 
evangelical  truth,  and  rich  in  excellent  practical  remarks,  fitted  for  the 
beneficial  perusal  of  all  classes.  There  were  also  other  compositions 
which  he  executed  with  singular  felicity.  I  mean  his  biographical 
sketches.  They  are,  except  "the  rapid  but  exquisite  sketches  of  Brai- 
nerd,  Fletcher  of  Madeley,  and  Henry  Martyn,  the  delineations  of  a 
friend ;  and  perhaps,  in  a  few  particulars,  need  a  slight  allowance  for 
the  high  colouring  to  which  the  warmth  of  friendship  tempts  us  when 
meditating  upon  departed  excellence ;  yet  they  are,  on  the  whole,  exact 
in  the  resemblance,  and  finely  exemplify  the  author's  varied  povi'ers, 
especially  his  delicate  and  accurate  discrimination  of  the  degrees  and 
shades  of  human  character. 

One  of  these,  the  character  of  the  Rev.  John  SutcliflT,  is  an  unfinished 
portrait ;  Mr.  Hall,  after  a  few  unsatisfactory  trials,  relinquishing  the 
attempt.  The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Fuller,  on  the  occasion  of  this 
failure,  will  be  read  with  interest,  as  an  example  both  of  his  diffidence 
and  of  his  sense  of  the  obligation  of  a  promise. 
"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  am  truly  concerned  to  tell  you  that  I  cannot  succeed  at  all  in  my  attempts 
to  draw  the  character  of  our  dear  and  venerable  brother  SutclifF.  I  have  made 
several  efforts,  and  have  sketched,  as  well  as  I  could,  the  outlines  of  what  I  con- 
ceive to  be  his  character  ;  but  have  failed  in  producing  such  a  portrait  as  appears 
to  me  fit  for  the  public  eye.  I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  your  intimacy  with 
him,  and  your  powers  of  discrimination,  will  enable  you  to  present  to  posterity  a 
much  juster  and  more  impressive  idea  of  him  than  I  can.  I  am  heartily  sorry  I 
promised  it.  But  promises  I  hold  sacred  ;  and  therefore,  if  you  insist  upon  it, 
and  are  not  willing  to  release  me  from  my  engagement,  T  will  accomplish  the  task 
as  well  as  I  can.  But  if  you  will  let  the  matter  pass  sub  silenlio,  without 
reproaching  me,  you  will  oblige  me  considerably.  It  appears  to  me  that,  if  I  ever 
possessed  a  faculty  of  character-drawing,  I  have  lost  it,  probably  for  want  of  use ; 
as  I  am  far  from  taking  any  delight  in  a  minute  criticism  on  character,  to  which, 
in  my  younger  days,  I  was  excessively  addicted.  Both  our  tastes  and  talents 
change  with  the  progress  of  years.  The  purport  of  these  lines,  however,  is  to 
request  you  to  absolve  me  from  my  promise,  in  which  light  I  shall  interpret  your 
silence  ;  holding  myself  ready,  however,  to  comply  with  your  injunctions. 

•'  I  am,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"Sept.  mi.  "R.  Hall." 

For  several  years,  about  this  time,  Mr.  Hall's  thoughts  were  greatly 
occupied  upon  the  subject  of  "Terms  of  Communion."  His  first  pub- 
lication in  reference  to  it  appeared  in  1815 :  but  they  who  were  admitted 
to  his  intimacy  will  recollect  how  often,  three  or  four  years  before  its 
appearance,  he  advocated  a  cautious  revision  of  the  practice  of  nearly 
all  churches ;  and  how  successfully  he  refuted  the  arguments  of  those 
who  favoured  any  narrow  system  of  exclusion.  He  regarded  the  ex- 
istence of  a  principle  which  made  so  many  churches  points  of  repulsion 
instead  of  centres  of  union  as  a  very  serious  evil ;  and  often  deplored 
it  in  language  similar  to  that  which  commences  his  first  production  on 
the  subject.* 

The  discussion,  indeed,  is  neither  of  slight  nor  of  temporary  inter- 
est. It  involves  the  prevailing  practice  of  every  church  in  Christendom, 
whether  established  or  independent  of  an  establishment ;  and  it  includes 
an  answer  to  the  inquirj'^  how  purity  of  faith  and  conduct  shall  be  pre- 

*  See  vol  i:  p:  289. 


60  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

served  without  an  infringement  of  the  principles  requisite  to  make  every 
church  a  portion  of  tliat  subhme  invisible  society,  the  "  Church  Univer- 
sal," constituted  of  all  the  members  of  Christ's  mystical  body. 

Rapidly  approaching,  as  we  seem  to  be,  to  that  state  of  things  when 
all  churches,  national  as  well  as  others,  will  feel  the  expediency,  if  not 
the  necessity,  of  reverting  to  first  principles  in  modifying  and  improving 
their  several  communities,  the  controversy  on  "  Terms  of  Communion" 
forces  itself  upon  the  attention  as  one  of  primary  importance,  serving 
to  ascertain  and  determine  almost  every  question  of  value  in  reference 
to  ecclesiastical  polity. 

I  thus,  though  but  for  a  moment,  advert  to  this  controversy,  that  the 
general  reader  may  not  be  induced  to  undervalue  it.  It  occupies  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  first  volume  of  these  works,  besides  the  sub- 
stance of  a  distinct  pamphlet  inserted  in  the  second  volume.  Of  the  differ- 
ent writers  who  opposed  Mr.  Hall  on  this  occasion,  Mr.  Kinghorn  was, 
unquestionably,  the  most  acute  and  learned.  His  volume  sliould  be 
read  in  connexion  with  Mr.  Hall's,  by  such  as  wish  to  view  the  question 
in  all  its  bearings.  Mr.  Hall's  part  of  the  controversy  is  conducted  with 
his  characteristic  frankness  and  decision  ;  and  evinces  the  same  clear- 
ness, copiousness,  strength,  and  majesty  of  diction  as  he  uniformly  dis- 
played upon  every  subject  to  which  he  bent  his  mind  with  all  its  power. 
Sometimes  when  a  narrow,  illiberal  sentiment,  calculated  to  check  the 
spirit  of  Christian  union  and  affection,  excites  his  indignation,  he  rebukes 
with  a  cutting  severity  :  and  I  feel  no  inclination  to  deny,  that,  in  a  few 
cases,  he  has  suffered  himself  to  indulge  in  terms  of  sarcasm,  if  not  of 
contempt,  that  add  nothing  to  his  argument,  and  had  been  better  spared. 
Yet,  as  one  of  his  bitterest  opponents  has  declared,  "  it  was  seldom  that 
his  thunder  was  heard,  but  the  bolt  was  felt ;  and  both  were  exercised 
on  the  side  of  truth  and  virtue." 

In  these,  as  in  others  of  his  controversial  pieces,  the  reader  may 
safely  reckon  upon  much  that  is  eloquent  and  impressive,  apart  from 
what  immediately  relates  to  the  questions  under  debate.  Among  which 
may  be  specified  the  remarks  on  excommunication,  the  beautiful  delinea- 
tion of  the  conduct  of  our  Lord,  the  passages  distinguishing  between 
conditions  of  salvation  and  meritorious  conditions,  and  those  in  which 
he  discriminates  between  the  atonement  contemplated  as  a  fact  and 
as  a  doctrine,  and  thence  infers  the  "  peculiar  glory  of  the  gospel  in  con- 
tradistinction from  the  law  of  Moses."* 

About  this  timet  Mr.  Hall  had  a  correspondence  with  a  friend  on  a 
kindred  subject,  that  of  occasional  communion.  That  individual,  though 
a  decided  Baptist,  and  long  a  member  of  a  dissenting  church,  was  in  the 
habit  of  occasional  communion  with  an  Episcopalian  chapel  in  his 
neighbourhood,  the  minister  of  which  held  evangelical  sentiments. 
Mr.  Hall  expressed  a  desire  to  be  acquainted  with  his  reasons  for  this 
practice.  In  reply,  he  informed  Mr.  HaU  that  he  thought  those  reasons 
flowed  obviously  from  the  principles  for  which  he  himself  was  so 
earnestly  and  successfully  contending :  that  one  of  the  highest  enjoy- 
ments of  a  man  who  humbly  hoped  he  constituted  a  part  of  the  church 
universal  was  to  testify  his  feeling  of  brotherhood  with  other  assem- 
blies of  orthodox  Christians,  than  that  with  which  he  was  immediately 

*  See  vol  i.  p.  339,  359,  360,  378-382,  389.  390. 

t  Nearly  at  iliis  lime,  also,  viz.  in  Sepfembcr,  1817,  the  faculty  of  Marischal  College,  Aberdeen, 
at  the  instance  of  their  late  learned  principal.  Dr.  W.  L.  Brown,  conferred  upon  Mr.  Hall  the  degree 
of  D.D.,  in  testimony  of  their  high  admiration  of  his  talents  and  character.  He  felt  much  gratified 
by  this  mark  of  their  good  opinion;  but,  having  a  conscientious  objection  to  the  title  of  doctor  of 
divinity,  he  never  adopted  it. 


AT  LEICESTER.  61 

connected,  by  holding  communion  with  them  at  convenient  seasons : 
that  in  this  respect,  as  the  poHtical  grounds  of  dissent  were  of  very 
httle  value  in  his  esteem,  he  made  no  mental  distinction  between  estab- 
lished and  separate  churches:  that,  having  no  conscientious  objection 
to  kneeling  at  the  sacrament,  and  having  resolved  never  to  communicate 
even  occasionally  but  where  he  had  reason  to  believe  the  bulk  of  those 
who  partook  of  the  sacrament  were  real  Christians,  he  felt  no  hesitation 
as  to  the  propriety,  while  he  could  speak  decidedly  as  to  the  comfort, 
of  the  course  he  had  pursued.  He  stated,  further,  that  with  Richard 
Baxter  he  "  disowned  the  principle  of  many  who  think  their  presence 
maketh  them  guilty  of  all  that  is  faulty  in  the  public  worship  and  minis- 
tration :  for  this  dissolveth  all  worshipping  churches  on  earth,  without 
exception  ;"  that  he  considered  Baxter's  Refutation  of  Dr.  Owen's  argu- 
ments against  occasional  communion  as  complete ;  and  that  he  would 
rather  err  in  the  spirit  of  Baxter  and  Howe,  on  such  a  question,  than  be 
right  according  to  the  narrow  measures  by  which  too  many  would  enforce 
a  contrary  practice.  Mr.  Hall's  reply,  which  is  subjoined,  exemplifies 
his  usual  manner  of  guarding  against  a  misapprehension  of  the  real 
extent  of  his  agreement  with  another  upon  any  disputed  point. 

"My  dear  Friend,  " March d,  18\8. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  frankness  with  which  you  have  answered  my 
inquiries.  Perhaps  I  may  not  be  quite  prepared  to  go  with  you  the  full  extent  of 
your  moderation ;  though  on  this  I  have  by  no  means  made  up  my  mind.  I 
admire  the  spirit  with  which  you  are  actuated,  and  esteem  you  more  than  ever  for 
the  part  you  have  acted.  I  perfectly  agree  with  you  that  the  old  grounds  of  dis- 
sent are  the  true  ones,  and  that  our  recent  apologists  have  mixed  up  too  much 
of  a  political  cast  in  their  reasonings  upon  this  subject.  Though  I  should  depre- 
cate the  founding  of  any  estahlished  church,  in  the  popular  sense  of  that  term,  I 
think  it  very  injudicious  to  lay  that  as  the  corner-stone  of  dissent.  We  have 
much  stronger  ground  in  the  specific  corruptions  of  the  Church  of  England,  ground 
which  our  pious  ancestors  occupied,  and  which  may  safely  defy  every  attempt 
of  the  most  powerful  and  acute  minds  to  subvert.  With  respect  to  occasional  con- 
formity, I  by  no  means  think  it  involves  an  abandonment  of  dissent ;  and  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that,  were  I  in  a  private  station  (not  a  minister,  I  mean),  I  should, 
under  certain  circumstances,  and  in  certain  situations,  be  disposed  to  practise  it ; 
though  nothing  would  induce  me  to  acknowledge  myself  a  permanent  member  of 
the  Church  of  England. 

"  In  regard  to  episcopacy,  it  appears  to  me  entirely  a  human,  though  certainly 
a  very  early,  invention.  It  was  unknown,  I  believe,  in  the  apostolical  times  ;  with 
the  exception,  probably,  of  the  latter  part  of  John's  time.  But,  as  it  was  prac- 
tised in  the  second  and  third  centuries,  I  should  have  no  conscientious  objection  to 
it.  As  it  subsists  at  present  among  us,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can  scarcely  conceive 
a  greater  [abuse].  It  subverts  equally  the  rights  of  pastors  and  of  people,  and  is 
nothing  less  than  one  of  the  worst  relics  of  the  papal  hierarchy.  Were  every 
thing  else  what  it  ought  to  be  in  the  established  church,  prelacy,  as  it  now  subsists, 
would  make  me  a  decided  dissenter. 

»■****  *  #  * 

"  I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  great  esteem, 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

«R.  Hall." 
Mr.  Hall's  engagements  for  the  press,  numerous  and  heavy  as  they 
were  to  one  who  wrote  with  so  much  difficulty  and  pain,  did  not  draw 
him  aside  from  pastoral  watchfulness  over  his  church  and  congregation ; 
nor  were  they  permitted  to  shorten  those  hours  of  retirement  in  which 
he  sought  "  converse  with  God."  Nothing,  on  the  contrary,  was  more 
evident  than  his  increased  spirit  of  devotion  as  he  advanced  in  life. 
About  the  year  1812,  he  commenced  the  practice  of  setting  apart  one 


62  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

day  in  a  month  for  especial  prayer  and  fasting.  On  these  occasions  lio 
retired  into  his  study  immediately  after  the  morning  domestic  worship, 
and  remained  there  until  tlie  evening.  Finding  this  eminently  condu- 
cive to  his  own  comfort,  at  the  end  of  about  two  years  he  recommended 
the  church  to  hold  quarterly  fasts.  They  at  once  adopted  the  recom- 
mendation ;  and  some  of  the  members  often  speak  of  the  first  meeting 
for  this  purpose  as  a  most  extraordinary  season  of  devout  and  solemn 
feeling. 

About  the  same  time,  or  somewhat  earlier,  he  amiounced  his  opinion 
of  the  disadvantage  arising  from  the  presence  of  others  besides  the 
communicants  on  sacramental  occasions.  In  a  short  address  he  ex- 
plained the  customs  of  the  early  Christians  with  regard  to  the  Lord's 
Supper,  and  showed  that  the  admission  of  spectators  who  were  not 
members  of  the  church  during  the  celebration  was  comparatively  a 
modern  innovation.  He  pointed  out  the  inconclusiveness  of  the  ordi- 
nary arguments, — that  spectators  often  receive  benefit  from  tlie 
addresses  of  the  ministers,  and  that  therefore  their  exclusion  was 
cutting  them  off  from  good,  and  that  such  exclusion  was  an  infringe- 
ment of  religious  liberty.  He  also  stated  that  the  presence  of  such 
spectators  deprived  him  of  much  comfort  during  the  communion 
service,  and  that  he  should  regard  their  keeping  away  as  a  personal 
kindness  to  himself.  His  address  was  received  with  affectionate 
respect ;  and  from  that  time,  those  who  had  previously  remained  to 
witness  the  administration  discontinued  the  custom. 

Some  time  after  the  conclusion  of  his  part  of  the  controversy  on 
"  Terms  of  Communion,"  he  made  an  effort  to  persuade  the  church  at 
Harvey-lane  to  adopt  the  practice  of  "  mixed  communion ;"  but  find- 
ing that  it  would  disturb  the  peace  which  had  so  long  subsisted  in  the 
society,  he  relinquished  his  intention,  and  recommended  tlie  formation 
of  a  distinct  church  on  the  mixed  communion  principle,  its  sacramental 
service  being  held  on  the  morning  of  the  same  Sabbath  on  which  the 
"strict  communion"  church  lield  its  corresponding  service  in  the  after- 
noon. This  plan  was  adopted  and  followed  during  Mr.  Hall's  contin- 
uance at  Leicester,  without  causing  any  interruption  of  the  harmony 
which  prevailed  among  the  different  classes  of  worshippers. 

In  the  year  18-23,  the  minister  of  a  ITnitarian  congregation  at  Lei- 
cester, having  delivered  a  series  of  what  are  usually  denominated 
"  challenge  lectures,"  in  defence  of  his  own  opinions,  to  hear  which 
individuals  of  other  persuasions  were  publicly  invited,  Mr.  Hall  felt  it 
to  be  his  duty  to  offer  a  timely  antidote  to  the  evil.  He  therefore 
preached  twelve  lectures  on  the  points  at  issue,  and  had  the  happiness 
to  know  that  they  were  serviceable  in  checking  the  diffusion  of  So- 
cinian  error.  His  concise  outline  of  these  lectures,  as  well  as  fuller 
notes  of  two  or  three,  are  inserted  in  the  present  volume.  He  was 
strongly  urged  by  several  members  of  his  congregation,  and  by  various 
neighbouring  ministers,  to  publish  the  whole ;  but  uniformly  replied, 
that  though  he  believed  they  had  been  beneficial,  he  was  conscious  they 
contained  nothing  that  could  be  regarded  as  really  new  in  the  contro- 
versy;  and  that  Dr.  Wardlaw  had  so  admirably  occupied  the  ground  in 
his  sermons,  already  before  the  public,  tliat  any  thing  which  he  could 
offer  in  print  would  only  be  regarded  as  an  impertinent  intrusion. 

Througliout  ttie  whole  of' Mr.  HalFs  residence  at  Leicester,  he 
suffered  much  from  his  constitutional  complaint ;  and  neither  his  habit 
of  smoking,  nor  that  of  taking  laudanum,*  seemed  effectually  to  alle- 

*  In  1812  he  took  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  drops  every  night.  Before  1826  the  quantity  had 
increased  to  one  thousand  drops. 


LAST  SERVICE  AT  LEICESTER.  63 

viate  his  sufferings.  It  was  truly  surprising  that  this  constant  severe 
pain,  and  the  means  adopted  to  mitigate  it,  did  not  in  any  measure 
diminish  his  mental  energy.  A  little  difference  was,  perhaps,  discerni- 
ble in  the  vivacity  of  his  conversation  ;  but  his  preaching  had,  as  yet, 
lost  nothing  of  its  force.  In  letters  to  his  friends  he  expressed  a  hope 
that  "  a  greater  savour  of  Jesus  Christ  accompanied  his  ministry ;" 
and  remarked,  that  "  his  strain  of  preaching  was  much  less  elegant,  but 
more  intended  for  instruction,  for  awakenuig  conviction,  and  carrying 
home  truth  with  power  to  the  heart."  And  thus  it  was  found,  that,  as 
he  advanced  in  years,  though  there  might  be  a  little  less  of  elaboration 
and  polish,  there  was  more  of  spiritual  feeling,  more  of  tender  and 
earnest  expostulation,  and  of  that  pungency  of  application  to  the  heart 
and  conscience,  which  resulted  from  an  enlarged  acquaintance  with 
human  character,  and  a  deeper  knowledge  of  "  the  things  of  God." 
That  the  Divine  blessing  accompanied  these  labours,  and  in  many  cases 
rendered  the  impression  permanent,  the  history  of  the  church  and  con- 
gregation abundantly  proves. 

The  death  of  Dr.  Ryland  in  1825  led  to  Mr.  Hall's  invitation  to  take 
the  pastoral  office  over  the  church  at  Broadmead,  Bristol,  an  office 
which  had  been  long  and  honourably  sustained  by  that  excellent  indi- 
vidual. After  some  months  spent  in  anxious  deliberation,  in  advising 
with  his  friends,  and  seeking  counsel  from  above,  from  the  dread  he  felt 
lest  he  "  should  rush  into  a  sphere  of  action  to  which  he  was  not 
called,  and  offend  God  by  deserting  his  proper  post,"  he  at  length 
decided  to  dissolve  his  long  and  happy  connexion  with  the  church  at 
Leicester.  The  day  of  separation,  the  last  sacrament  Sabbath,  March 
26th,  1826,  was  a  day  of  anguish  to  him  and  them,  of  which  I  shall  not 
attempt  the  description.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  went  through  the 
ordinary  public  duties  of  the  day  with  tolerable  composure  ;*  but  at  the 
sacramental  service  he  strove  in  vain  to  conceal  his  emotion.  In  one 
of  his  addresses  to  the  members  of  the  church,  on  adverting  to  the  pain 
of  separation,  he  was  so  much  affected  that  he  sat  down,  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands,  and  wept ;  they,  sharing  in  his  distress,  gave  un- 
equivocal signs  of  the  deepest  feeling.  Mr.  Eustace  Carey,  who  was 
present,  continued  the  devotional  part  of  the  service,  imtil  Mr.  Hall  was 
sufficiently  recovered  to  proceed.  At  the  close  of  the  solemnity  the 
weeping  became  again  universal,  and  they  parted  "  sorrowing  most  of 
all  that  they  should  see  his  face  no  more." 

Very  shortly  afterward  the  church  received  from  Mr.  Hall  the  follow- 
ing letter  of  resignation. 

"to  THE  CHURCH  OP  CHRIST  MEETING  IN  H.VRVEV-LANE,  LEICESTER. 

"  My  dear  Brethren  and  Sisters,  "M  April,  1826. 

"I  take  this  opportunity  of  solemnly  and  affectionately  resigning  the  pastoral 
charge  which  I  have  long  sustained  among;  you,  and  of  expressing,  at  the  same 
time,  the  deep  sense  I  shall  ever  retain  of  the  marks  of  affection  and  esteem  with 
which,  both  collectively  and  individually,  you  have  honoured  me. 

"  Though  the  providence  of  God  has,  as  I  conceive,  called  me  to  labour  in 
another  part  of  his  vineyard,  my  solicitude  for  your  spiritual  welfare  will  ever 
remain  unimpaired,  nor  will  any  thing  give  me  more  joy  than  to  hear  of  your 
growth  in  grace,  peace,  and  prosperity.  My  prayer  will  never  cease  to  ascend  to 
the  God  of  all  comfort,  that  he  will  establish  your  hearts  in  love,  unite  you  more 
and  more  in  the  fellowship  of  saints,  and  make  you  fruitful  in  every  good  work. 

*  In  order  chat  neither  his  feelings  nor  those  oP  the  rongregation  might  be  too  severely  tried 
during  the  public  services,  he  preached  two  sermons  for  the  Baptist  Mission  :  that  in  the  nnurning 
from  Ephes.  iii.  8,  "  Unto  me,  who  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints,  is  this  grace  given,  that  I 
should  preach  among  tho  gentiles  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ."  that  in  the  evening  from 
Matt,  vi.  10,  "  Thy  kingdom  come." 


64  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

"  Let  me  earnestly  entreat  you  to  guard  most  anxiously  against  whatever  may 
tend  to  weaken  your  union,  diminish  your  ali'eclion,  or  imbitter  your  spirits  against 
each  other.  '  Let  brotherly  love  continue  :'  '  seek  peace  and  pursue  it  ;'  and 
'  may  the  God  of  peace,  who  brought  again  from  the  dead  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  Great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  stablish,  strengthen,  settle,  and  make  you  perfect"? 

"  I  hope  that,  in  the  choice  of  a  successor,  you  will  earnestly  and  anxiously 
seek  Divine  direction ;  prefer  the  useful  to  the  splendid  ;  the  solid  to  the  glittering  and 
showy  ;  and  be  supplied  with  a  pastor  who  will,  in  doctrine,  exhibit  '  uncorrupt- 
ness,  trravity,  sincerity,  and  sound  speech  which  cannot  be  condemned,'  and  be  in 
manner  and  behaviour  a  pattern  to  believers. 

"  Permit  me,  on  this  occasion,  to  return  j'ou  my  sincere  acknowledgments  for 
the  uniform  kindness  with  which  you  have  treated  mc,  the  respectful  attention 
you  have  paid  to  my  ministry,  and  the  candour  with  which  you  have  borne  my 
infirmities. 

"  With  my  most  earnest  prayers  for  your  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare,  I  remain, 
"  My  dear  brethren  and  sisters, 
"  Your  obliged  and  affectionate  friend  and  brother, 

"  Robert  Hall." 

Mr.  Hall  was  in  his  sixty-second  year  when  he  removed  to  Bristol, 
the  scene  of  his  first  continuous  labours,  and  now  to  become  the  scene 
of  his  closing  ministry.  tSonie  of  the  friends  of  his  early  life  still  sur- 
vived to  welcome  his  return  among  them  ;  and  many  others,  who  had 
profited  by  his  pulpit  exertions  on  his  periodical  visits  to  Bristol,  con- 
gratulated themselves  that  he  to  whom,  under  God,  they  owed  so 
much  had  become  their  pastor.  All  things,  indeed,  except  his  infirm 
state  of  health,  seemed  to  conspire  in  promoting  his  own  happiness  as 
well  as  the  prosperity  of  the  church  with  which  he  had  again  connected 
himself. 

The  church  and  congregation  soon  received  numerous  accessions. 
In  writing  to  a  friend,  early  in  1829,  he  says,  "  I  continue  to  be  very 
happy  with  my  people,  from  whom  1  daily  receive  every  demonstration 
of  affection  and  respect.  Our  attendance  is  as  good  as  I  could  wish ; 
and  we  have  added  to  the  Baptist  church,  during  the  last  year,  twenty- 
seven,  and  six  are  standing  candidates  for  baptism.  For  these  tokens 
of  the  Divine  presence  I  desire  to  be  thankfid." 

His  heavenly  Father,  during  the  concluding  years  of  his  life,  made  a 
rich  provision  for  his  social  enjoyments,  both  in  his  family  and  among 
his  friends.  Besides  the  comfort  of  frequent  association  with  many 
of  his  own  flock,  his  pleasures  were  greatly  heightened  by  intercourse 
with  Mr.  Foster,  and  the  tutors  of  the  Baptist  Academy,  as  well  as 
with  several  clergymen  and  other  ministers  and  laymen,  residing  in 
Bristol  and  its  vicinity.  It  is  true,  that  wherever  he  went,  or  in  what- 
ever he  engaged,  he  carried  with  him  the  complaint  from  which  he  had 
suffered  so  much  and  so  long.  It  had  become,  as  his  esteemed  friend 
Mr.  Addington  termed  it,  "  an  internal  apparatus  of  torture;"  yet,  such 
was  the  peculiar  structure  of  his  mind,  doubtless  fortified  and  prepared 
for  patient  endurance  by  an  energy  imparted  from  above,  that  though 
his  appointment  by  day  and  by  night  was  incessant  pain,  yet  high  enjoy- 
ment was,  notwithstanding,  the  law  of  his  existence. 

Between  his  final  removal  to  Bristol  and  his  death,  he  visited  his 
friends  at  Cambridge  twice,  namely,  in  18-27  and  1829.  These  visits 
were  undertaken  with  the  sense  of  responsibility  of  one  who  had 
formerly  been  their  pastor :  and  he  made  it  a  rule  so  to  arrange  his 
time  while  there  as  to  see,  converse  with,  and  exhort  every  member 
of  the  church,  and  a  great  proportion  of  the  congregation.  He  paid 
also  one  visit  to  his  recently-quitted  flock  at  Leicester ;  and  two  to  his 
friends  in  London.     On  these  occasions  the  anxiety  to  hear  him  preach 


AT  BRISTOL.  65 

was  as  great  as  it  had  ever  been ;  while  his  sermons  were  characterized 
in  a  high  degree  by  the  qualities  that  had  long  distinguished  them, — 
with  the  addition  of  a  stronger  manifestation  of  religious  and  benevo- 
lent affections,  a  still  more  touching  persuasiveness  of  manner,  con- 
tinued with  an  increasing  intensity  of  feeling,  with  deeper  and  deeper 
solemnity  of  appeal ;  the  entire  effect  being  greatly  augmented  by  the 
sudden  introduction,  just  as  the  last  sentence  seemed  dropping  from 
his  lips,  of  some  new  topic  of  application  or  of  caution,  most  urgently 
pressed ;  as  though  he  could  not  cease  to  invite,  to  warn,  to  expostulate^ 
until  the  "  Great  Master  of  assemblies"  vouchsafed  to  him  the  assurance 
that  he  had  not  been  pleading  his  cause  in  vain.* 

Mr.  Hall's  increasing  infirmities  did  not  extinguish  his  literary  ardour^ 
or  abate  his  love  of  reading.  Except  during  the  first  years  of  his  resi- 
dence at  Cambridge,  reading,  and  the  thinking  it  called  forth,  were  his 
incessant  occupation  to  the  very  close  of  life  ;  and  both  the  pursuit 
and  its  application  to  the  benefit  of  others  yielded  him  the  highest 
delight.  In  his  early  life,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  it  was  common 
with  him  to  carry  on  five  or  six  different  courses  of  study  simulta- 
neously. But  for  the  last  ten  or  twelve  years,  he  mostly  confined 
himself  to  one  book  at  a  time,  and  read  it  to  the  end.  His  reading 
continued  to  be  very  extensive  and  varied  (for  it  was  his  decided 
opinion  that  every  species  of  knowledge  might  be  rendered  subservient 
to  religion),  but  his  predilection,  next  to  the  Scriptures,  was  for  works 
of  clear,  strong,  and  conclusive  reasoning,  though  conveyed  in  language 
far  from  elevated,  and  sometimes  perhaps  obscure.  Thus  he,  for  full 
sixty  years,  read  .Jonathan  Edwards's  writings  with  undiminished  plea- 
sure. And  of  Chillingworth's  "  Religion  of  Protestants"  he  has  often 
been  known  to  say,  "  It  is  just  like  reading  a  novel :"  which,  indeed, 
was  his  usual  expression  of  commendation  with  regard  to  such  works 
of  a  dry  or  abstract  nature  as  discovered  subtilty,  depth,  or  vigour  of 
thought.  In  this  class  he  placed  the  works  of  Jeremy  Bentham,  for 
whom  he  entertained  the  highest  estimation,  as  an  original,  profound, 
and  accurate  thinker;  observing  often,  that  in  the  particular  province 
of  his  speculations,  the  science  of  legislation,  he  had  advanced  to  the 
limits  of  reason  ;  and  that  if  he  were  compelled  to  legislate  for  the  world 
upon  uninspired  principles,  "  he  should  take  Bentham,  and  go  from 
state  to  state  with  as  firm  a  step  as  though  he  walked  upon  a  pavement 
of  adamant."! 

If,  at  any  time,  he  could  not  settle  a  point  of  interest  without  studying 
a  language  of  which  he  was  ignorant,  that  constituted  no  impediment. 
Shortly  before  he  quitted  Leicester,  a  friend  found  him  one  morning, 
very  early,  lying  on  the  carpet,  with  an  Italian  dictionary  and  a  volume 
of  Dante  before  him.  Being  about  to  quit  the  room,  he  said,  '*'  No,  sir, 
don't  go.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  been  about  for  some  weeks.  A 
short  time  since  I  was  greatly  delighted  with  a  parallel  between  the 
Paradise  Lost  and  the  Divine  Comedy  of  Dante  which  I  read  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  But  in  matters  of  taste,  as  well  as  others,  I  always 
like  to  judge  for  myself;  and  so  I  have  been  studying  Italian.  I  have 
caught  the  idiom,  and  am  reading  Dante  with  great  relish ;  though  I 
cannot  yet  say,  with  Milton, — 

*  It  was  seldom  ihat  the  friends  who  attempted  to  take  down  Mr.  Hall's  sermons  did  not  uncon- 
sciously relinquish  writing  as  he  approached  the  close.  The  reader,  however,  who  never  had  the 
privilege  of  hearing  him  preach,  will  be  able  to  form  some,  conception  of  his  impressive  terminations 
from  the  last  five  pases  of  the  sermon  in  the  present  volume  on  "  the  Glory  of  God  in  concealnig." 

t  He  always  reconnnended  those  who  were  likely  to  be  offended  with  the  strangeness  of  Ben- 
tham's  style  to  study  his  principles  through  the  medium  of  his  elegant  French  commentator, 
M.  Dumont. 

Vol.  III. — 5 


66  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

"  '  Now  my  task  is  »mooth!y  done, 
1  can  fly  or  I  can  run.' " 

It  may  seem  somewhat  out  of  place,  yet  I  shall  be  for^ven  if  I  here 
insert  an  extract  of  a  letter  just  received  from  Mr.  Ryley,  one  of  Mr. 
Hall's  most  intelligent  Leicester  friends,  in  reference  to  his  course  of 
reading  there. 

"  It  was  what  some  men  might  think  desultory  ;  but  it  was  essentially  a  con- 
stant habit  of  grappling  with  the  strong.  Belles  Lettres  he  did  not  altogether 
neglect,  though  he  held  the  average  of  such  literature  in  small  estimation.  Poetry 
he  seldom  read,  nor  did  he  seem  to  me  to  have  even  studied  it  con  arnore.  He 
thought  Gray's  Elegy  the  finest  thing  ever  written.  Milton  was  his  favourite. 
There  was  something  peculiar  in  his  habits  respecting  poetry.  He  spoke  slightly 
of  poets,  with  few  exceptions,  and  those  few  by  no  means  what  might  have  been 
expected  from  his  own  highly  imaginative  cast  of  mind.  Yet,  when  he  did  get 
hold  of  an  exquisite  poem,  he  would  read  it  with  intense  attention,  apparently  with 
the  deepest  interest,  and  then  abuse  it.  With  the  exception  of  Milton,  who  is,  in 
fact,  an  antique,  he  preferred  the  ancient  to  the  modern  poets.  Of  the  poetry  of 
our  own  day,  he  spoke  with  a  contempt  which  an  accurate  or  extensive  acquaint- 
ance with  it  would  have  compelled  him  to  relinquish.  He  had  not,  I  think,  made 
history  a  distinct  and  consecutive  study,  though  he  had  read  many  of  the  original 
historians.  He  seemed  to  feel  this  of  late  years,  and  gave  much  of  his  time  to  the 
subject." 

His  enjoyment  of  the  writings  of  the  illustrious  men  of  Greece  and 
Rome  remauied  unimpaired  to  the  last.  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  Cicero 
suggested  to  him  many  noble  arguments  in  favour  of  an  internal  spring 
of  morality,  which  he  employed  with  his  wonted  skill  in  support  of  the 
religion  of  pure  motive  and  devotedness  of  spirit.  Virgil's  Georgics 
he  characterized  as  the  most  finished  of  human  compositions ;  and  he 
continued  to  prefer  Virgil  to  Homer.  He  greatly  admired  the  copious- 
ness, grace,  and  harmony  of  Cicero's  diction ;  but  considered  Demos- 
thenes by  far  the  most  powerful  orator  the  world  had  known  ;  and  after 
speaking  with  fervid  applause  of  the  oration  Trtpi  i.TC(pavov,  added,  that  he 
thought  it  impossible  for  a  man  of  soul  and  feeling  to  read  a  single  page 
without  catching  fire.  Only  a  few  months  before  his  last  illness,  in  clas- 
sifying the  different  natures  and  respective  effects  of  the  eloquence  of  rea- 
son, of  passion,  and  of  imagination,  he  selected  his  principal  illustrations 
from  Demosthenes,  and  endeavoured  to  show  that  where  the  two  former 
kinds  of  eloquence  existed  in  due  proportion,  the  third  was  of  very 
minor  consequence.  The  individual  to  whom  he  made  these  remarks 
was  struck,  as  he  proceeded,  with  the  development  which  they  sup- 
plied of  the  causes  of  the  deep  impression  made  by  his  own  pulpit 
addresses ;  and  imputed  his  more  sparing  use  of  imagery  in  later  years, 
rather  to  the  deliberate  conviction  of  his  mind,  than  to  any  diminution 
of  the  imaginative  faculty. 

But  I  must  restrain  myself,  and  pass  to  Mr.  Hall's  every-day  habits 
after  his  return  to  Bristol.  The  course  of  his  life  at  home,  when  not 
interrupted  by  visiters,  was  very  uniform.  He  generally  rose  and  took 
his  breakfast  about  nine  o'clock.  Breakfast  was  immediately  succeeded 
by  family  worship.  At  this  exercise  he  went  reguhirly  through  the 
Scriptures,  reading  a  portion  of  the  Old  Testament  in  the  morning, 
and  of  the  New  Testament  in  the  evening.  On  Sunday  morning  he 
almost  invariably  read  the  ninety-second  Psalm,  being  short,  and  appro- 
priate to  the  day.  He  also  read  in  his  family  the  translation  of  the 
four  Gospels  by  Campbell,  whom  he  particularly  admired,  and  often 
recommended,  as  an  accurate  translator,  and  a  critic  of  great  acute- 
ness,  taste,  and  judgment.     He  seldom  made  any  remarks  on  the  por- 


AT  BRISTOL.  67 

tion  of  Scripture,  except  when  strangers  were  present,  who,  he  knew, 
would  be  disappointed  at  their  entire  omission.  He  regarded  himself 
as  very  incompetent  to  render  this  brief  kind  of  exposition  instructive. 
In  the  prayer  that  succeeded,  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  forming  his 
petitions  on  the  passage  of  Scripture  just  read,  though  the  prayer  was 
usually  of  considerable  length,  and  very  minute  in  its  appropriation. 
He  adverted  specifically  to  all  the  persons  belonging  to  his  family, 
present  and  absent :  never  forgot  the  people  of  his  care ;  and  dwelt  on 
the  distinct  cases  of  members  of  the  church  that  were  under  any  kind 
of  trial  or  affliction. 

After  breakfast  and  worship,  he  retired  into  his  study,  and  uniformly 
spent  some  time  in  devotion,  afterward  generally  reading  a  portion  of 
the  Hebrew  Bible.  For  the  last  two  years,  he  read  daily  two  chapters 
of  Matthew  Henry's  Commentary.  As  he  proceeded  he  felt  increasing 
interest  and  pleasure ;  admiring  the  copiousness,  variety,  and  pious 
ingenuity  of  the  thoughts,  the  simplicity,  strength,  and  pregnancy  of 
the  expressions.  He  earnestly  recommended  this  commentary  to  his 
daughters  ;  and  on  hearing  the  eldest  reading,  for  successive  mornings, 
to  the  second,  he  expressed  the  highest  delight.  The  remainder  of  the 
morning  until  dinner,  about  three  o'clock,  was  spent  in  reading  some 
work  of  learning  or  of  severe  thought.  After  dinner  he  generally 
retired  to  his  study,  and,  if  not  in  so  much  pain  as  to  prevent  it,  slept 
for  some  time. 

On  Tuesday  evenings  were  held  what  are  termed  "  the  conferences," 
in  the  vestry  of  the  Broadmead  chapel :  they  are  meetings  ordinarily 
attended  by  about  two  hundred  persons,  at  which  two  of  the  students 
belonging  to  the  Bristol  Education  Society,  or  one  of  the  students  and 
the  president,  speak  on  a  passage  of  Scripture  previously  selected  for 
the  purpose.  Mr.  Hall  always  attended  on  these  occasions,  and  con- 
cluded by  speaking  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  on  the  subject  of  the 
preceding  addresses.  He  also  attended  the  prayer-meetings,  in  the 
same  place,  on  Thursday  evenings ;  except  once  a  month,  namely,  on 
the  Thursday  previous  to  the  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  when 
he  preached. 

The  other  evenings  in  the  week,  except  Saturday  (and  that,  indeed, 
not  always  excepted),  he  usually  spent  at  the  house  of  one  or  other  of 
his  congregation,  with  a  very  few  friends,  who  were  invited  to  meet  him. 
His  inability  to  walk  having  greatly  increased,  his  friends  generally 
sent  a  carriage  for  him  about  six  o'clock,  and  conveyed  him  back 
about  ten. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  he  had  greater  fondness  for  retirement 
or  for  company.  It  displeased  him  if,  especially  by  sudden  interrup- 
tions, he  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  morning  hours  of  study  to  visiters  ; 
and  it  would  commonly  have  been  a  disappointment,  if  he  had  not  the 
opportunity  of  spending  his  evenings  in  society.  If  he  were,  at  any 
time,  thrown  among  persons  of  distinguished  talents  and  attainments, 
and  their  general  character  pleased  him,  it  was  soon  shown  how  truth  and 
knowledge  might  be  educed  by  the  operation  of  intellect  upon  intellect, 
and  how  rich  a  field  of  instruction  and  delight  would  thus  be  open  for 
the  general  enjoyment  of  the  party.  Usually,  however,  his  choice 
turned  simply  upon  the  prerequisite  of  piety  ;  he  sought  for  no  other 
acquisitions  in  his  associates  than  the  graces  of  the  Spirit;  intelhgence 
added  to  the  enjoyment,  but  was  not  essential  to  it.  The  society  of 
old  friends  had  with  him  an  exquisite  charm,  which  was  greatly  height- 
ened if  their  fathers  had  been  known  and  esteemed  by  him  or  his  father; 
such  intercourse,  requiring  no  effort,  gave  full  scope  to  his  affections, 

5* 


68  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

"without  disturbing  his  mental  repose.  He  uniformly  retired  from  these 
evening  parties  full  of  grateful  references  to  the  pleasure  which  he  had 
felt.  If  any  of  his  family  who  accompanied  him  happened  to  say 
that  the  evening  had  been  dull,  he  would  reply,  "  I  don't  think  so.  It 
was  very  pleasant.  I  enjoyed  it.  I  enjoy  every  thing."  Considering 
the  continuity  of  his  sufferings,  how  touching  a  commentary  is  this 
upon  the  inspired  aphorism,  "  the  good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from 
himself!" 

Mr.  Hall  commonly  retired  to  rest  a  little  before  eleven  o'clock  ;  but 
after  his  first  sleep,  which  lasted  about  two  hours,  he  quitted  his  bed  to 
obtain  an  easier  position  on  the  floor,  or  upon  three  chairs  ;  and  would 
then  employ  himself  in  reading  the  book  on  which  he  had  been  engaged 
during  the  day.  Sometimes,  indeed  often,  the  laudanum,  large  as  the 
doses  had  become,  did  not  sufficiently  neutralize  his  pain  to  remove  the 
necessity  for  again  quitting  his  bed.*  In  these  cases  he  would  again 
put  on  the  dress  prepared  to  keep  him  adequately  warm,  and  resume 
his  reading.  On  Sunday  mornings,  as  soon  as  he  awoke,  it  was  usual 
with  him  to  say,  "This  is  the  Lord's  day.  This  is  the  day  the  Lord 
hath  made  ;  let  us  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it."  And  he  often  impressed  it 
on  his  family  that  they  ought  "  not  to  think  their  own  thoughts,"  or 
"  to  find  their  own  pleasure,"  on  that  day. 

He  did  not  pursue  any  plan  of  training  or  of  discipline  with  his  chil- 
dren. He  was  remarkabl)^  affectionate  and  indulgent ;  but  he  did  nothing 
systematically  to  correct  defects,  to  guide  or  excite  their  minds.  Now 
and  then  he  recommended  his  daughters  to  read  some  particular  book; 
one,  perhaps,  that  he  had  himself  read  with  peculiar  satisfaction  :  but 
beyond  this  there  do  not  appear  to  have  been  any  direct,  specific  endeav- 
ours to  impart  knowledge,  or  in  any  uniform  manner  to  inculcate 
religious  principles. 

When,  however,  any  of  his  children  were  about  to  quit  home  for  a 
short  time,  it  was  his  practice  to  summon  them  to  his  study,  exhort 
them,  and  pray  with  them.  One  of  his  daughters,  on  writing  to  a  friend 
after  his  death,  says,  "  Well  I  remember  that,  when  I  was  a  child,  on 
leaving  home  for  a  few  days,  or  on  going  to  school,  he  would  call  me 
into  the  study,  give  me  the  tenderest  advice,  make  me  to  kneel  down 
by  him  at  the  same  chair,  and  then,  both  bathed  in  tears,  would  he  fer- 
vently supplicate  the  Divine  protection  for  me.  This,  I  believe,  he  did 
with  regard  to  all  of  us  on  leaving  home,  while  young."  Their  minds 
were  also  often  deeply  impressed  by  hearing  him,  as  they  passed  his 
study  door,  commending  them,  by  name,  with  the  utmost  fervency,  to 
God,  and  entreating  those  blessings  for  each  which,  in  his  judgment, 
each  most  needed. f 

Periodical  private  fasts,  such  as  those  which  he  observed  at  Leices- 
ter, he  continued  to  observe  at  Bristol,  makmg  them  seasons  of  extra- 
ordinary self-examination,  prayer,  and  renewed  dedication  to  God.  He 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  keeping  a  regular  journal,  nor,  generally  speak- 
ing, did  he  approve  of  it,  from  a  persuasion  that  it  "tempted  to  an 
artificial  tone  of  expression  which  did  not  accord  with  the  actual 
state  of  the  heart.  But  on  some  solemn  occasions  he  made  a  short 
note  in  one  of  his  memorandum  books,  containing  hints  of  texts,  &c. 

*  For  more  than  twenty  years  he  had  not  been  able  to  pass  a  whole  night  in  bed.  When  this  is 
borne  in  mind,  it  is  truly  surpri.sing  that  he  wrote  and  published  so  much ;  nay,  that  he  did  not 
sink  into  dotage  before  he  wa.s  fifty  years  of  age. 

I  His  habit  of  oral,  audible,  private  prayer  rested  upon  the  ronviction  that  silent  prayer  waa 
apt  to  degenerate  into  niediiation,  while,  from  our  compound  nature,  a  man  cannot  but  be' affected 
by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  wlien  adtquuiely  exi>res.siug  what  is  really  felt. 


AT  BRISTOL.  69 

Thus  :  "New-year's  day,  January  1st,  1826.  I  have  begun  the  year  with  a 
sincere  resolution,  in  the  strength  of  Divine  grace,  to  devote  myself  wholly  and 
entirely  to  God  :  but,  knowing  my  extreme  weakness  and  corruption,  I  dare  place 
no  dependence  whatever  on  my  own  resolutions.  I  have,  on  many  occasions, 
found  them  unstable  as  water.  I  can  only  cast  myself  on  the  mercy  of  my  God, 
and  cry,  with  the  Psalmist,  'Hold  Thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe.'  0  Thou 
most  holy  and  merciful  Lord  God,  I  beseech  Thee  to  take  up  thine  abode  in  my 
heart,  and  shape  me  entirely  anew.     Amen.     Amen." 

Again,  on  his  birth-day,  1828.  "This  day  I  commence  my  64th  [65th]  year. 
What  reason  have  I  to  look  with  shame  and  humiliation  on  so  long  a  tract  of  years 
spent  to  so  little  purpose  !  Alas  !  I  am  ashamed  of  my  barrenness  and  unprofit- 
ableness. Assist  me,  O  Lord,  by  Thy  grace,  that  I  may  spend  the  short  residue  of 
my  days  in  a  more  entire  devotion  to  Thy  service.  It  is  my  purpose,  in  the  strength 
of  Divine  grace,  to  take  a  more  minute  inspection  into  the  state  of  my  heart,  and 
the  tenor  of  my  actions,  and  to  make  such  observations  and  memorandums  as 
circumstances  may  suggest.  But  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  do  I  look  for  all  spiritual 
strength,  to  keep  Thy  way,  and  do  Thy  will." 

Mr.  Hall  still  evinced  a  peculiar  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  the  poorer 
members  of  his  flock,  and  greatly  lamented  his  incapacity,  from  the  loss 
of  locomotive  energy,  to  seek  them  out  in  their  own  habitations,  and 
associate  with  them  frequently,  as  he  had  done  with  the  poor  at  Cam- 
bridge and  Leicester.  He  publicly  expressed  his  concern  that  some 
plan  was  not  arranged  for  his  meeting  them  in  small  parties  at  speci- 
fied times,  and  assured  them  of  the  cordial  readiness  with  which  his 
part  of  such  a  plan  should  be  executed.  This,  I  believe,  was  not 
accomplished. 

The  indications  of  infirm  age  now  rapidly  exhibited  themselves,  but 
happily  were  unaccompanied  by  a  decaying  mind  or  a  querulous  spirit. 
The  language  of  his  conduct  and  of  his  heart  corresponded  with  that 
of  the  pious  ancient,  "  Lord,  give  me  patience  now,  and  ease  here- 
after !"  If  tempests  come  they  will  not  last  long,  but  soon  will  be 
hushed  into  an  eternal  calm. 

His  inabihty  to  take  exercise,  on  account  of  the  gradual  increase  of 
his  complaint,  gave  rise,  about  six  years  before_his  death,  to  another 
disorder,  formidable  in  its  nature  and  fatal  in  its  issue.  The  indications 
of  a  plethoric  habit  became  more  and  more  apparent.  "  Thus,"  adopt- 
ing the  language  of  Mr.  Addington,  "  the  system  of  the  blood-vessels 
had  a  laborious  duty  to  perform  in  circulating  their  fluid,  which,  for 
want  of  the  full  aid  of  muscular  exertion,  could  not  be  equally  dis- 
tributed. The  smaller  ones  on  the  surface  of  the  body,  and  in  the 
extremities,  never  appeared  to  derive  a  sufficient  quantity  of  blood  to 
furnish  the  usual  proportion  of  animal  heat,  while  the  large  trunks  in 
the  interior  became  overloaded.  The  natural  consequence  was,  that 
the  heart,  on  whose  power  the  propulsion  of  the  blood  to  the  extremi- 
ties depends,  being  over  stimulated  and  oppressed  by  the  condition  of 
the  large  vessels,  became  weakened;  and,  occasionally  failing  iii  the 
regular  and  equable  transmission  of  the  blood,  would  produce  a  sen- 
sation of  distress  in  the  region  of  the  chest."  The  malady,  thus  pro- 
duced, becoming  more  and  more  severe,  Mr.  Hall,  when  in  London 
in  1828,  was  persuaded  by  his  friends  to  take  the  advice  of  an  emi- 
nent physician :  from  which,  however,  no  permanent  good  resulted. 
By  the  summer  of  1830,  the  disorder  had  increased  so  seriously  that 
his  medical  friends  at  Bristol  recommended  a  suspension  of  his  pastoral 
duties  for  a  few  weeks,  that  he  might  try  the  eff"ect  of  a  total  change 
of  air  and  scene. 

He  therefore  spent  some  time  at  Coleford,  in  the  forest  of  Dean,  in 
the  society  of  his  old  and  valued  friend  the  Rev.  Isaiah  Birt.    He  also 


7e  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

spent  a  few  weeks  at  Cheltenham.  At  both  these  places  he  preached 
with  his  accustomed  talent ;  and  his  general  appearance,  too  clearly 
indicating  that  the  close  of  his  ministerial  labours  was  at  hand,  gave  a 
deeper  impression  to  his  instructions  and  exhortations.  When  absent 
from  home  he  was  in  the  habit  of  writing  to  his  children.  My  narrow 
limits  have  prevented  my  giving  extracts  from  any  of  those  letters ; 
but  I  am  induced  to  insert  part  of  one,  written  at  this  time  to  his 
son,  who  had  been  placed  with  a  respectable  chymist  and  druggist 
at  Bristol,  in  the  hope  that  it  may  be  useful  to  other  youths  in  similar 
circumstances. 

"My  dear  Robert,  "  15ih  October,  \sm. 

*'  I  have  long  designed  to  write  to  you,  that  I  might  communicate  to  you  some 
hints  of  advice,  which  I  could  convey  more  easily,  and,  perhaps,  more  eliectually, 
than  by  speaking. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear  boy,  how  solicitous  I  am  for  your  welfare  in  both 
worlds,  and  how  often  I  have  borne  you  on  my  heart  in  my  secret  addresses  to  that 
Father  which  is  in  heaven.  But,  alas  !  the  prayers  of  parents  for  their  children 
will  avail  nothing,  if  they  are  not  induced  to  pray  for  themselves,  '  for  every  one 
must  give  an  account  of  himself  to  God.'  I  hope,  my  dear  child,  you  do  not  live 
in  the  entire  neglect  of  this  most  important  duty  :  let  me  entreat  you  to  attend  to 
it  constantly,  and  never  to  begin  or  end  a  day  without  it.  Daily  entreat  the  pardon 
of  your  sins,  for  the  sake  of  the  Redeemer,  and  earnestly  implore  the  assistance 
of  his  grace,  to  enable  you  to  resist  temptation,  and  to  live  in  such  a  manner  as 
shall  prepare  you  for  a  blessed  immortality.  Pray  do  not  neglect,  at  the  same 
time,  to  read  a  portion,  longer  or  shorter,  of  the  Word  of  God.  '  Wherewith 
shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  ways,  but  by  taking  heed  thereto  according  to 
thy  Word  V 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  Robert,  you  will  continue  in  your  present  situation.  On  the 
supposition  of  your  doing  so  (and  I  can  do  nothing  better  for  you),  let  me  entreat 

you  to  make  it  your  constant  care  to  conciliate  the  esteem  of  Mr.  C ,  which 

you  will  certainly  do,  if  you  cheerfully  comply  with  his  orders,  and  make  his 
interest  your  own.  Nothing  injures  the  character  of  a  young  man  more  than 
restlessness  and  fickleness  ;  nothing,  on  the  contrary,  secures  his  credit  and  com- 
fort like  a  steady  and  persevering  attention  to  the  duties  of  his  station.  Every 
situation  has  its  inconveniences  and  its  difficulties  ;  but  time  and  perseverance 
will  surmount  the  one,  and  make  you  almost  insensible  of  the  other.  The  con- 
sciousness of  having  overcome  difficulties,  and  combated  trials  successfully,  will 
afford  you,  in  the  issue,  a  far  higher  satisfaction  than  you  can  ever  hope  to  obtain 
by  recoiling  from  them. 

"  Combat  idleness  in  all  its  forms  ;  nothing  is  so  destructive  as  idle  habits,  nothing 
so  useful  as  habits  of  industry. 

*  **  ***** 

"  Never  demean  yourself  by  contending  about  trifles  ;  yield  in  things  of  small 
iBoment  to  the  inclinations  and  humours  of  your  companions.  In  a  word,  my 
dear  boy,  make  yourself  amiable. 

"  Fear  God  and  love  your  fellow-creatures,  and  be  assured  you  will  find 
'  Wisdom's  ways,  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  her  paths,  paths  of  peace.' 

"  To  say  all  in  one  word,  '  If  you  are  wise,  my  heart  shall  rejoice,  even  mine.' 

"lam 
"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"Robert  Hall."* 

On  Mr.  Hall's  return  to  Bristol  towards  the  end  of  October,  hopes 
were  entertained  that  his  health  was  improved,  and  his  strength 
recruited ;  but  tliey  were  only  of  short  duration.  The  spasmodic  affec- 
tion of  the  chest  occurred  with  increasing  frequency,  and  in  a  more 

*  The  youth  to  whom  this  letter  was  addressed  went  abroad  soon  after  the  decease  of  his 
father,  and  intelhgencc  of  his  death  has  been  received  since  these  sheets  were  prepared  for  the 
presa 


AT  BRISTOL.  71 

alarming  character.  In  one  instance,  on  tlie  1st  of  .lanuary,  1831, 
the  attack  was  so  severe  as  to  threaten  immediate  dissohition.  It 
passed  off,  however,  as  former  attacks  had  done,  on  taking  Mood 
from  the  arm  ;  and  soon  afterward  he  returned  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  the  evening  with  the  friends  whom  he  had  left  when  the  par- 
oxysm came  on ;  and  in  his  usual  cheerful  and  happy  spirit  took  his 
ordinary  share,  and  evinced  an  undiminished  interest,  in  the  conver- 
sation. 

The  morning  of  that  day  had  been  signalized  by  the  extraordinary 
pathos  which  he  imparted  to  the  religious  services,  at  a  prayer-meeting, 
held,  according  to  annual  custom,  in  the  vestry  at  Broadmead.  The 
intensity  of  his  devotional  feelings,  and  the  fervour  of  his  supplications 
in  behalf  of  the  assembled  congregation,  as  well  as  the  glowing  affection 
and  deep  solemnity  with  which  he  addressed  them,  as  he  reviewed  the 
past  dispensations  of  Providence,  and  anticipated  some  of  the  probable 
events  of  the  year  now  opening  upon  them,  both  in  relation  to  them 
and  himself,  excited  the  strongest  emotion,  and,  in  connexion  with  the 
events  that  immediately  followed,  made  an  indelible  impression  upon 
their  minds  :  nearly  all  his  subsequent  addresses,  whether  on  the  Sunday 
or  the  week-day  evening  services,  partook,  more  or  less,  of  the  same 
pathetic  and  solemnly  anticipatory  character.  One  of  the  most  impres- 
sive of  these,  of  which  many  of  the  congregation  retain  a  vivid 
recollection,  was  delivered  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  January  16th. 
The  text  from  which  he  preached  was,  Deuteronomy  xxxiii.  25: 
"  Thy  shoes  shall  be  iron  and  brass ;  and  as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be." 

In  this  discourse  he  seemed  to  be  preparing  his  people  and  himself 
for  that  event  by  which  they  were  to  be  deprived  of  their  invaluable 
pastor,  and  he  to  be  free-d  from  anguish  and  sorrow :  when  his  soul, 
liberated  from  its  chain,  and  clothed  in  the  Redeemer's  righteousness, 
was  to  go  forth,  "  first  into  liberty,  then  into  glory." 

A  highly  valued  correspondent,*  whose  communications  greatly 
enrich  this  volume,  enables  me  to  present  the  following  sunmiary  of  Mr. 
Hall's  application  or  improvement ;  which,  from  its  occasion,  as  well  as 
its  excellence,  cannot  but  be  read  with  lively  interest. 

"Improvement.  ].  Take  no  thought,  no  anxious,  distressing,  harassing 
thought  for  the  morrow  ;  suffer  not  your  minds  to  be  torn  asunder  by  doubt 
or  apprehension.  Consider,  rather,  what  is  the  ■present  will  of  God,  and  rest 
satisfied  and  content ;  without  anticipating  evils  which  may  never  arrive. 

"  Do  not  heighten  your  present  sorrows  by  a  morbid  imagination.  You  know- 
not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth.  The  future  is  likely  to  be  helter  than  you  expect, 
as  well  as  worse.  The  real  victory  of  Christians  arises  from  attenlion  to  present 
duty.     This  carries  them  from  strength  to  strength. 

"  Some  are  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  death ;  they  say,  How  shall  I  meet  the 
agonies  of  dissolution  ?  But  when  you  are  called  to  die,  you  will,  if  among 
God's  children,  receive  dying  consolation.  Be  satisfied  if  you  have  the  strength 
to  live  to  God,  and  God  will  support  you  when  you  come  to  die.  Some  fear 
persecution,  lest,  at  such  a  season,  they  should  'make  shipwreck  of  faith  and  of  a 
good  conscience  :'  '  As  thy  day  is,  such  shall  thy  strength  he.' 

"  2.  Consider  to  what  it  is  we  owe  our  success.  If  we  are  nearer  our  salvation 
than  when  we  believed,  let  us  not  ascribe  it  to  ourselves,  to  our  own  arm,  but 
to  the  grace  of  God  :  '  Not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  with  me,'  enabling  me  to 
sustain,  and  to  conquer.  If  we  continue,  it  is  '  because  we  have  obtained 
help  of  God :'  we  are  '  kept  by  his  mighty  power  unto  salvation.'  In  all  our 
fufCerings,  if  Christians,  we  are  perpetually  indebted  to  Divine  succour. 

*  TUe  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield,  A.M.,  of  Clifton,  near  BristoL 


72  MEMOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

"  3.  Let  us  habitually  look  up  to  God,  in  the  exercise  of  faith  and  prayer. 
Instead  of  yielding  ourselves  to  dejection,  let  us  plead  the  promises,  and  flee  to 
the  Divine  \\^ord.  He  has  been  accustomed  to  sustain  the  faithful  :  and  He  is 
'  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.'  He  is  never  weary  :  look  to  Him  : 
'  they  that  wait  on  liim  shall  mount  up  with  eagles'  wings  ;  run,  and  not  be 
weary  ;  walk,  and  not  faint.'  Go  to  Him  in  prayer, — cling  to  His  strength, — lay 
hold  on  His  arm.  You  have  a  powerful  Redeemer  :  '  be  strong  in  the  power  of 
His  roicht !'  Draw  down  the  succours  of  His  grace,  which  will  enable  you  to  go 
on,  *  from  strength  to  strength,'  until  you  appear  before  God  in  Zion." 

The  last  service  at  Bfoadmead  in  which  Mr.  Hall  took  any  part  was 
the  church  meeting  (when  only  the  members  of  the  church  are  assem- 
bled) on  Wednesday  the  9th  of  February.  His  closing  prayer  on  that 
occasion  is  spoken  of  as  most  spiritual  and  elevated,  exhibiting  in  its 
highest  manifestation  the  peculiar  union  of  humiUty,  benevolence,  and 
fervour,  by  which  his  devotional  exercises  had  very  long  been  char- 
acterized. 

On  the  next  evening,  Thursday,  the  usual  monthly  sermon  preparatory 
to  the  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  to  have  been  delivered; 
but  Mr.  Hall's  discharge  of  this  duty  was  prevented  by  a  severe  attack 
.of  the  complaint  in  his  chest,  which  came  on  just  after  he  had  retired 
to  his  study  to  prepare  for  that  service.  This  was  the  commencement 
of  the  series  of  paroxysms  which  terminated  in  his  dissolution. 

"  Early  on  the  Sunday  morning  (I  again  quote  one  of  the  letters  of  my 
esteemed  friend  Mr.  Addington)  being  requested  to  see  him,  I  found  him  in  a  con- 
.dition  of  extreme  suffering  and  distress.  The  pain  in  his  back  had  been  uncom- 
monly severe  during  the  whole  night,  and  compelled  him  to  multiply,  at  very  short 
intervals,  the  doses  of  his  anodyne,  until  he  had  taken  no  less  than  125  grains  of 
solid  opium,  equal  to  more  than  3,000  drops,  or  nearly  four  ounces,  of  laudanum  !  ! 
This  was  the  only  instance  in  which  I  had  ever  seen  him  at  all  overcome  by  the 
soporific  quality  of  the  medicine  ;  and  it  was,  even  then,  hard  to  determine  whether 
the  effect  was  owing  so  much  to  the  quantity  administered  as  to  the  unusual  cir- 
cumstance of  its  not  having  proved,  even  for  a  short  time,  an  effectual  antago- 
nist to  the  pain  it  was  expected  to  relieve. 

"  Inured  as  he  was  to  the  endurance  of  pain,  and  unaccustomed  to  any  strong 
expression  of  complaint,  he  was  forced  to  confess  that  his  present  agony  was 
unparalleled  by  any  thing  in  his  former  experience.  The  opium  having  failed  to 
assuage  his  pain,  he  was  compelled  to  remain  in  the  horizontal  posture  ;  but  while 
in  this  situation,  a  violent  attack  in  his  chest  took  place,  which  in  its  turn  ren- 
dered an  upright  position  of  the  body  no  less  indispensable.  The  struggle  that 
ensued  between  tliese  opposing  and  alike  urgent  demands  became  most  appalling, 
and  it  was  difhcult  to  imagine  that  he  could  survive  it ;  especially,  as  from  the 
extreme  prostration  of  vital  energy,  the  remedy  by  which  the  latter  of  those  affec- 
tions had  often  been  mitigated,  viz.  bleeding,  could  not  be  resorted  to.  Powerful 
stimulants,  such  as  brandy,  opium,  ether,  and  ammonia,  were  the  only  resources  ; 
and,  in  about  an  hour  from  my  arrival,  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  him 
greatly  relieved  and  expressing  his  lively  gratitude  to  God. 

"  The  whole  of  his  demeanour  throughout  this  agonizing  crisis,  as  well  as 
during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  a  day  of  much  suffering,  exhibited,  in  a  striking 
degree,  the  efficacy  of  Christian  faith  and  hope,  in  supporting  and  tranquillizing 
the  mind  of  their  possessor,  in  a  season  of  extreme  and  torturing  affliction.  His 
language  abounded  with  expressions  at  once  of  the  deepest  humility  and  of  thank- 
fulness to  God  for  his  '  unspeakable  mercies,' — together  with  affectionate  acknow- 
lodgments  of  the  care  and  assiduities  of  his  family  and  the  friends  around  him." 

From  this  time  the  paroxysms  increased  rapidly  both  in  frequency 
and  severity;  and  Mr.  Hall,  in  tlic  intervals  between  their  occurrence, 
was  usually  so  weak  and  exhausted  as  seldom  to  be  able  to  converse  with 
those  around  him.  His  expressions,  however,  insulated  and  broken  as 
they  often  were,  proved  that  he  was  able  fully  to  exercise  tliat  trust  in 
God  which  is  the  grand  principle  of  religion,  and  that  thus  trusting  in 


LAST  ILLNESS.  73 

him,  his  soul  was  kept  in  peace.  No  murmuring,  no  language  of  irrita- 
bility escaped  from  his  lips. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  dwell  upon  the  melancholy  detail  of  the  ten 
days  previous  to  his  death.  I  will  only  record  a  few  such  expressions 
as  serve  to  show  that,  acute  as  were  his  sufferings,  God  left  him  not 
without  support. 

Thus,  when  he  first  announced  his  apprehension  that  he  should  never 
again  minister  among  his  people,  he  immediately  added,  "  But  I  am  in 
God's  hands,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  am.  1  am  God's  creature,  at  his  dis- 
posal, for  life  or  death  ;  and  that  is  a  great  mercy." 

Again,  "  I  have  not  one  anxious  thought,  either  for  life  or  death. 
What  I  dread  most  are  dark  days.  But  I  have  had  none  yet :  and  I  hope 
I  shall  not  have  any." 

Again,  "  I  fear  pain  more  than  death.  If  I  could  die  easily,  I  think  I 
would  rather  go  than  stay ;  for  I  have  seen  enough  of  the  world,  and  I 
have  an  humble  hope." 

On  another  occasion,  a  friend  having  said  to  him,  '  This  God  will  be 
our  God,'  he  replied,  "  Yes,  he  will, — he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto 
death." 

On  recovering  from  one  of  his  severe  paroxysms,  he  adverted  to  the 
affectionate  attentions  of  his  beloved  wife  and  daughters,  as  well  as  his 
numerous  comforts,  and  exclaimed,  "  What  a  mercy  it  is  to  have  so 
many  alleviations  !  I  might  have  been  deprived  of  all  these  comforts  ; 
— I  might  have  been  in  poverty;  I  might  have  been  the  most  abject 
wretch  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

During  one  night,  in  which  the  attacks  were  a  little  mitigated  in  num- 
ber and  severity,  he  frequently  expressed  the  most  lively  gratitude  to 
God,  as  well  as  his  simple,  unshaken  reliance  on  his  Saviour  ;  and 
repeated  nearly  the  whole  of  Robinson's  beautiful  hymn. 

"  Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing ! 
Tune  my  heart  to  sing  ihy  grace; 
Streams  of  mercy  never  ceasing 
Call  for  songs  of  endless  praise  I"  &c. 

The  same  night,  under  one  of  the  paroxysms,  he  said  to  the  friend 
who  was  with  him,  "  Why  should  a  living  man  complain  ?  a  man  for  the 
punishment  of  his  sins  1  I  have  not  complained,  have  I,  sirl — and  I 
won't  complain." 

When  Dr.  Prichard  was  invited  to  join  Mr.  Chandler  and  Mr.  Adding- 
ton  in  consultation,  on  his  arrival  Mr.  Hall  arose  and  received  him  so 
much  in  his  wonted  cordial,  courteous  manner,  as,  at  the  first  moment, 
almost  to  check  the  apprehension  of  danger.  On  the  evening  of  the 
same  day,  he  expatiated  on  the  mercy  of  God  in  bringing  him  to  close 
his  life  at  Bristol. 

His  prevailing  kindness  was  evinced  throughout,  in  his  solicitude  for 
the  comfort  of  those  who  sat  up  with  him  at  night,  or  who  remained  in 
the  house  to  be  called  to  his  assistance  if  necessary.  He  also  exhorted 
the  members  of  his  family,  and  others  occasionally  present,  to  make 
religion  the  chief,  the  incessant  concern  ;  urging  especially  upon  some 
of  the  young  among  his  friends  the  duty  of  openly  professing  their 
attachment  to  Christ  and  his  cause. 

When  he  was  a  little  recovered  from  one  of  his  severe  paroxysms,  "  I  asked 
him,"  says  Mr.  Chandler,  "whether  he  felt  much  pain.  He  replied  that  his  sufferings 
were  great :  'but  what,'  he  added,  'are  my  suflerings  to  the  sufferings  of  Christ  1 
his  sufferings  were  infinitely  greater :  his  sufferings  were  complicated  :  God  has 
been  very  merciful  to  me — very  merciful  :  I  am  a  poor  creature — an  unworthy 
creature  ;  but  God  has  been  very  kind — very  merciful.'  He  then  alluded  to  the 
character  of  the  sufferings  of  crucifixion,  remarking  how  intense  and  insufferable 


74  ME'MOIR  OF  ROBERT  HALL. 

they  must  have  been,  and  asked  many  minute  questions  on  what  I  might  suppose 
was  the  process  by  which  crucifixion  brought  about  death.  He  particularly 
inquired  respecting  the  effect  of  pain — the  nervous  irritation — the  thirst — the 
oppression  of  breathing — the  disturbance  of  the  circulation — and  the  hurried  action 
of  the  heart,  till  the  conversation  gradually  brought  him  to  a  consideration  of  his 
own  distress  ;  when  he  again  reverted  to  the  lightness  of  his  sufferings  when  con- 
trasted with  those  of  Christ.  He  spoke  of  our  Lord's  '  enduring  the  contradiction 
of  sinners  against  himself — of  the  ingratitude  and  unkindness  he  received  from 
those  for  whom  he  went  about  doing  good — of  the  combination  of  the  mental  and 
corporeal  agonies  sustained  on  the  cross — the  length  of  time  during  which  our  Lord 
hung — the  exhaustion  occasioned,  &c.  He  then  remarked  how  differently  he  had 
been  situated  ;  that  though  he  had  endured  as  much  or  more  than  fell  to  the  lot 
of  most  men,  yet  all  had  been  in  mercy.  I  here  remarked  to  him,  that  with  most 
persons  the  days  of  ease  and  comfort  were  far  more  numerous  than  those  of  pain 
and  sorrow.  He  replied,  '  But  I  have  been  a  great  sufferer  in  my  time  :  it  is, 
however,  generally  true  :  the  dispensations  of  God  have  been  merciful  to  me.'  He 
then  observed,  that  a  contemplation  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ  was  the  best  anti- 
dote against  impatience  under  any  troubles  we  might  experience  ;  and  recom- 
mended me  to  reflect  much  on  this  subject  when  in  pain  or  distress,  or  in  expecta- 
tion of  death.* 

"  During  the  whole  of  this  severe  illness,  he  read  much  in  Campbell's  translation 
of  the  Gospels  ;  and,  at  intervals,  one  of  his  daughters  read  to  him,  from  this  ver- 
sion, his  favourite  to  the  last.  On  the  morning  of  the  21st,  the  day  on  which  he 
died,  he  had  it  laid  before  him,  as  usual,  and  read  it  himself  in  his  ordinary  recum- 
bent attitude." 

Mrs.  Hall,  in  the  course  of  this  morning,  remarking  to  him  that  he 
appeared  better,  and  expressing  her  hopes  that  he  would  recover ;  he 
replied,  "  Ah  !  my  dear,  let  us  hope  for  the  best,  and  prepare  for  the 
worst."  He  then  stated  his  opinion  that  this  day  would  be  critical. 
When  his  medical  attendants  met  in  consultation,  a  little  afternoon,  he 
seemed  rather  better ;  and  Mr.  Chandler  left  him,  between  one  and  two 
reclining  on  the  sofa,  leaning  on  his  elbow  with  as  much  muscular 
energy  as  ever. 

"  Before  leaving  him,"  he  remarks,  "  I  explained  to  him  the  plan  of  proceeding 
to  be  observed  ;  on  which  he  bowed,  saying,  that  whatever  we  wished  he  would 
comply  with,  he  would  do  whatever  we  desired  ;  begging  that  he  might  not  inter- 
fere with  my  duties  to  other  patients,  and  adding  that  he  thought  he  should  be 
very  comfortable  till  my  return. 

"  In  a  very  short  time,  and  before  I  had  reached  home,  I  was  summoned  to 
behold  the  last  agonizing  scene  of  this  great  and  extraordinary  mnn.  His  diffi- 
culty of  breathing  had  suddenly  increased  to  a  dreadful  and  final  paroxysm.  It 
seems  this  last  paroxysm  came  on  more  gradually  than  was  usual  with  those 
which  preceded.  Mr.  Hall,  finding  his  breathing  becoming  much  worse,  first  rose 
more  on  his  elbow,  then  raised  his  body,  supporting  himself  with  his  hand,  till  the 
increasing  agitation  obliged  him  to  rise  completely  on  the  sofa,  and  to  place  his 
feet  in  hot  water — the  usual  means  he  resorted  to  for  relief  in  every  paroxysm. 
Mrs.  Hall,  observing  a  fixation  of  his  eyes,  and  an  unusual  expression  on  his  coun- 
tenance, and  indeed  in  his  whole  manner,  became  alarmed  by  the  sudden  impres- 
sion that  he  vs'as  dying  ;  and  exclaimed  in  great  agitation,  '  This  can't  be  dying  !■" 
when  he  replied,  '  It  is  death — it  is  death — death  !  Oh  the  sufferings  of  this  body  !' 
Mrs.  Hall  then  asking  him,  '  But  are  you  comfortable  in  your  mind?'  he  imme- 
diately answered,  '  Very  comfortable — very  comfortable  !'  and  exclaimed,  '  Come, 
Lord  Jesus — Come.'  He  then  hesitated,  as  if  incapable  of  bringing  out  the 
last  word  ;  and  one  of  his  daughters,  involuntarily,  as  it  were,  anticipated  him  by 
saying,  '  Quickly  !'  on  which  her  departing  father  gave  her  a  look  expressive  of  the 
most  complacent  delight. 

"  On  entering  his  room,  I  found  him  sitting  on  the  sofa,  surrounded  by  his 
lamenting  family ;  with  one  foot  in  the  hot  water,  and  the  other  spasmodically 

*  Chandler's  Autbcnilc  Accoimf,  p.  28 


HIS  DEATH— CONCLUSION.  75 

grasping  the  edge  of  the  bath  ;  his  frame  waving  in  violent,  ahnost  convulsive 
heavings,  sufficiently  indicative  of  the  process  of  dissolution.  I  hastened,  though 
despairingly,  to  administer  such  stimulants  as  might  possibly  avert  the  threatening 
termination  of  life  ;  and  as  I  sat  by  his  side  for  this  purpose  he  threw^  his  arm 
over  my  shoulders  for  support,  with  a  look  of  evident  satisfaction  that  I  was  near 
him.  He  said  to  me,  '  I  am  dying  :  death  is  come  at  last :  all  will  now  be  useless.' 
As  I  pressed  upon  him  draughts  of  stimulants,  he  intimated  that  he  would  take 
them  if  I  wished  ;  but  he  believed  all  was  useless.  On  my  asking  him  if  he 
suffered  much,  he  replied,  '  Dreadfully.'  The  rapidly  increasing  gasping  soon 
overpowered  his  ability  to  swallow,  or  to  speak,  except  in  monosyllables,  few  in 
number,  which  I  could  not  collect ;  but,  whatever  might  be  the  degree  of  his 
suffering  (and  great  it  must  have  been),  there  was  no  failure  of  his  mental  vigour 
or  composure.  Indeed,  so  perfect  was  his  consciousness,  that  in  the  midst  of  these 
last  agonies,  he  intimated  to  me  very  shortly  before  the  close,  with  his  accustomed 
courteousness,  a  fear  lest  he  should  fatigue  me  by  his  pressure  ;  and  when  his 
family,  one  after  another,  gave  way  in  despair,  he  followed  them  with  sympathizing 
looks,  as  they  were  obliged  to  be  conveyed  from  the  room.  This  was  his  last 
voluntary  movement ;  for  immediately  a  general  convulsion  seized  him,  and  he 
quickly  expired."* 

O  1  how  inconceivably  blessed  is  the  change,  when,  at  the  moment 
of  utmost  agony,  the  soul  enters  the  regions  of  endless  joy ;  passes 
from  the  land  of  the  dying  to  the  land  of  the  living ;  from  the  society 
of  saints  to  the  blissful  presence  of  the  King  of  saints,  where  know- 
ledge, illumination,  purity,  and  love  flow  for  ever  and  ever  from  the 
Inexhaustible  Fountain !  Such  is  the  ineffable  reward  which  awaits  all 
the  faithful  followers  of  the  Lamb.  "  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom 
thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my 
glory." 

Nothing,  I  feel,  would  be  more  presumptuous  than  for  me  to  attempt 
to  portray  fully  the  literary,  intellectual,  or  religious  character  of  my 
inestimable  friend. f  I  have  known,  and  still  know,  many  whom  1 
greatly  value,  many  whom  I  cordially  love  and  admire,  many  from  whom 
I  have  learned  much  and  might  have  learned  more,  but  for  my  incapacity 
to  receive  what  they  were  ready  to  impart ;  but  I  have  known  none 
in  whom  so  many  elements  of  mental  and  moral  greatness  were  so  hap- 
pily combined  as  in  Mr.  Hall ;  none  whose  converse  and  whose  diver- 
sified knowledge  have  so  constantly  interested,  charmed,  and  instructed 
me  ;  none  whose  transcendent  qualities  excited  so  high  and  overawing 
a  veneration,  yet  none  whose  humility  and  cordiality,  exquisitely 
blending  with  genius  and  piety,  inspired  so  unhesitating  a  confidence. 

His  profound  acquaintance  with  the  mind  and  heart,  and  his  corres- 
ponding faculty  of  tracing  and  separating  the  springs  of  human  action, 
gave  him  an  unusual  influence  with  the  present  race  as  a  sacred  orator : 
while  he  seems  to  be  one  of  the  few  men  whose  creative  intellect,  and 
whose  singular  ability  in  the  development  of  religious  truth,  and  the 
illustration  and  confirmation  of  many  principles  of  universal  and  in- 
creasing interest,  qualify  them  to  operate  with  as  extensive  an  influence 
in  moulding  the  intellectual  and  moral  character  of  succeeding  gene- 
rations. 

His  varied  and  extraordinary  powers,  thus  diffusively  applied  to  the 
most  momentous  stibjects,  will  be  seen  from  his  "  Works,"  which  are 
now  collected  that  they  may  constitute  his  noblest  monument,  the  most 
enduring  tribute  to  his  memory. 

*  See  Note  D,  Appendix. 

I  For  some  interesUng  sketches  which,  together,  will  assist- in  correctly  estimating  Mr.  Hall's 
character,  see  Note  E,  Appendix. 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  A.— [See  page  35.] 

MISCELLANEOUS    GLEANINGS    FROM    MR.    HALl's    CONVERSATIONAL    REMARKS. 

I  AM  perfectly  well  aware  that  no  memoranda  can  convey  an  adequate  idea  of 
the  vivacity,  originality,  and  brilliancy  of  Mr.  Hall's  conversational  powers.  It 
was  usually  easy  to  remember  the  sentiments  which  he  expressed,  and  sometimes 
the  images,  whether  sportive  or  tasteful,  by  which  he  illustrated  them  ;  but  the 
beautiful  language  in  which  his  remarks  in  conversation  were  clothed  could 
seldom  be  recalled,  except  when  he  fully  communicated  his  meaning  in  a  very 
short  but  happily  turned  phrase. 

This  note,  therefore,  while  it  may  serve  to  record  some  of  his  sentiments  and 
opinions  on  interesting  topics,  must  be  understood  as  giving  a  very  faint  notion 
of  his  manner  of  expressing  himself,  except  in  those  cases  where  the  language,  at 
once  brief,  clear,  and  characteristic,  fixed  itself  indelibly  upon  the  memory. 

The  connected  series,  first  presented,  has  been  kindly  transmitted  by  the  Rev. 
Robert  Balmcr,  of  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  and  is  selected  from  his  recollections  of 
the  substance  of  three  or  four  conversations  which  he  had  with  Mr.  Hall  in  the 
years  1819  and  1823. 

In  the  course  of  some  remarks  on  various  theological  writers  of  our  own  times, 
he  said,  "  Dr.  Smith  is  the  best  Biblical  critic  with  whom  I  am  personally 
acquainted  ;  and  I  should  think  him  one  of  the  most  learned  theologians  now  alive." 
On  my  asking,  if  he  did  not  consider  Archbishop  Magee  superior  in  ability,  and 
equal  in  learning,  to  Dr.  Smith  1  he  replied,  with  his  usual  decision,  "  Not  nearly 
equal  in  learning,  sir  ;  I  do  not  suppose  that  Archbishop  Magee  knows  any  thing 
about  the  German  critics,  with  whom  Dr.  Smith  is  intimately  acquainted,  and  from 
whom,  notwithstanding  all  their  absurdity  and  impiety,  much  may  unquestionably 
be  learned.  There  is  one  thing,"  he  added,  "in  Dr.  Smith's  work,  much  to  be 
lamented  ;  and  that  is,  the  tone  of  excessive  lenity  maintained  towards  his 
opponents.  In  consequence  of  this,  his  reasonings  will  not  produce  an  effect 
proportioned  to  their  intrinsic  force  ;  and  his  readers  are  tempted  to  regard  the 
opinions  which  he  refutes  with  far  less  horror  than  they  deserve.  The  proper 
tone  in  theological  controversy  is,  I  imagine,  somewhere  between  Bishop  Hors- 
ley's  intolerable  arrogance  and  asperity,  and  Dr.  Smith's  unwarrantable  softness 
and  urbanity." 

On  informing  him  that  I  had  been  perplexed  with  doubts  as  to  the  extent  of 
the  death  of  Christ,  and  expressing  a  wish  to  know  his  opinion,  he  replied, 
"  There,  sir,  my  sentiments  give  me  the  advantage  of  you  ;  for  on  that  point  I 
entertain  no  doubts  whatever:  I  believe  firmly  in  'general  redemption;'  I  often 
preach  it,  and  I  consider  the  fact  that  '  Christ  died  for  all  men'  as  the  only  basis 
that  can  support  the  universal  offer  of  the  gospel." — "  But  you  admit  the  doctrine 
of  election,  which  necessarily  implies  limitation.  Do  you  not  think  that  election 
and  particular  redemption  are  inseparably  connected  !" — "  I  believe  firmly,"  he 
rejoined,  "  in  election,  but  I  do  not  think  it  involves  particular  redemption  ;  I  con- 
sider the  sacrifice  of  Christ  as  a  remedy,  not  only  adapted,  but  intended  for  all, 


NOTE  A.— CONVERSATIONAL  REMARKS.  77 

and  as  placing  all  in  a  salvable  state  ;  as  removing  all  barriers  to  their  salvation, 
except  such  as  arise  from  their  ovrn  perversity  and  depravity.  But  God  fore- 
saw or  knew  that  none  would  accept  the  remedy,  merely  of  themselves,  and 
therefore,  by  what  may  be  regarded  as  a  separate  arrangement,  he  resolved  to 
glorify  his  mercy,  by  effectually  applying  salvation  to  a  certain  number  of  our 
race,  through  the  agency  of  his  Holy  Spirit.  I  apprehend,  then,  that  the 
limiting  clause  implied  in  election  refers  not  to  the  purchase  but  to  the  application 
of  redemption."  This  representation  seemed  to  me,  at  the  time,  to  be  encum- 
bered with  considerable  difficulties  ;  and  I  was  not  sure  that  I  correctly  appre- 
hended it.  Not  choosing,  however,  to  request  Mr.  H.  to  repeat  or  elucidate  his 
statements,  I  asked  him  if  he  could  refer  me  to  any  book  where  I  should  find 
what  he  regarded  as  the  Scripture  doctrine  on  the  subject,  stated  and  illustrated. 
He  referred  me  to  a  book  to  which  Dr.  Smith,  of  Homerton,  had,  not  many  days 
before,  referred  me,  in  answer  to  a  similar  question, — Bellamy's  "True  Religion 
delineated." 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation  respecting  the  extent  of  Christ's  death,  Mr. 
Hall  expatiated  at  considerable  length  on  the  number  and  variety  of  the  Scripture 
expressions,  in  which  it  seems  to  be  either  explicitly  asserted  or  necessarily 
implied,  that  it  was  intended,  not  for  the  elect  exclusively,  but  for  mankind 
generally,  such  as  "  the  world,"  "  all,"  "  all  men,"  "  every  man,"  &c.  He  made 
some  striking  remarks  on  the  danger  of  twisting  such  expressions  from  their 
natural  and  obvious  import,  and  on  the  absurdity  of  the  interpretations  put  on 
them  by  some  of  the  advocates  of  particular  redemption.  He  mentioned,  espe- 
cially, the  absurdity  of  explaining  "  the  world,"  John  iii.  16,  to  signify  the  elect 
world,  as  the  text  would  then  teach  that  some  of  the  elect  may  not  believe.  He 
noticed,  further,  that  the  doctrine  of  general  redemption  was  not  only  asserted 
expressly  in  many  texts,  but  presupposed  in  others,  such  as  "  Destroy  not  with 
thy  meat,"  &c.,  and  "  Denying  the  Lord  that  bought  them  ;"  and  that  it  was  incor- 
porated with  other  parts  of  the  Christian  system,  particularly  with  the  universal 
offers  and  invitation  of  the  gospel. 

On  the  question  of  church  government,  Mr.  H.'s  sentiments  seemed  to  me 
undecided,  and  somewhat  inconsistent  ;  and  by  many  they  would  have  been 
regarded  as  latitudinarian.  He  expressed  his  doubts  whether  any  one  form  or 
model  was  delineated  in  the  New  Testament,  as  obligatory  in  all  ages  and  in  all 
circumstances  ;  and  said  that  he  was  much  disposed  to  adopt  the  maxim,  "  What- 
ever is  best  administered  is  best."  In  another  conversation,  when  mention  was 
made  of  a  church,  which,  along  with  its  minister,  had  been  guilty  of  a  scandalous 
irregularity  in  a  matter  of  discipline,  I  stated  what  would  be  done  in  such  circum- 
stances among  Presbyterians,  and  put  the  queftion,  Will  the  neighbouring 
churches  and  ministers  not  interfere  1  Mr.  H.  intimated  that  they  ought  to  remon- 
strate and  advise ;  but  that  any  claim  to  jurisdiction  would,  in  his  apprehension, 
be  altogether  unwarrantable  ;  adding,  that  the  independence  of  churches  appeared 
to  him  a  principle  expressly  sanctioned  by  the  Word  of  God. 

With  regard  to  the  question  of  "  Terms  of  Communion,"  we  had  repeated  con- 
versations. On  this  subject  he  spoke  with  uncommon  interest  and  animation  ;  and 
seemed  surprised  at  the  arguments  of  those  who  were  opposed  to  his  views.  I 
recollect,  in  particular,  the  eftect  produced  on  him,  when  I  stated  that  I  had  heard 
Dr.  Lawson,  of  Selkirk,  declare,  that  he  would  not  admit  a  Roman  Catholic,  not 
even  Fenelon  or  Pascal,  to  the  table  of  the  Lord :  Mr.  H.,  who  had  been 
previously  reclining  on  three  chairs,  instantly  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and 
spoke  without  intermission  and  with  great  rapidity  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour;  expatiating  on  the  amazing  absurdity  and  presumption  of  rejecting  those 
whom  Christ  receives,  and  of  refusing  to  hold  communion  on  earth  with  those 
with  whom  we  hope  to  associate  in  heaven.  During  all  this  time  his  manner  was  ex- 
ceedingly vehement,  his  other  arm  was  in  continual  motion,  and  his  eyes,  natu- 
rally most  piercing,  were  lighted  up  with  unusual  brilliancy. 

It  was  interesting  and  amusing  to  observe  how  Mr.  Hall's  exquisite  sensibility  to 
literary  beauty  intermingled  with  and  qualified  the  operation  of  his  principles  and 
leanings,  both  as  a  Christian  and  dissenter.  Of  this  I  recollect  various  instances  ; 
but  shall  give  only  one.     While  conversing   respecting  Archbishop  Magee,  his 


78  APPENDIX, 

talents,  scntimenta,  conduct,  &c.,  I  quoted,  as  a  proof  of  his  high-church  princi- 
ples, a  remaric  from  a  charge  then  newly  published  :  it  was  to  this  eflect :  That 
the  Roman  Catholics  have  a  church  without  a  religion  ;  the  dissenters  have  a 
religion  without  a  church  ;  but  the  Establishment  has  both  a  church  and  a  religion. 
Mr.  Hall  had  not  heard  the  remark  before,  and  was  exceedingly  struck  with  it. 
"  That,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  smiling,  "  is  a  beautiful  saying.  I  have  not  heard  so 
fine  an  observation  for  a  long  time.  It  is  admirable,  sir." — "  You  admire  it,  I  pre- 
sume, for  its  point,  not  for  its  truth." — H.  "  I  admire  it,  sir,  for  its  plausibility 
and  cleverness.  It  is  false,  and  yet  it  seems  to  contain  a  mass  of  truth.  It  is  an 
excellent  stone  for  a  churchman  to  pelt  with." 

After  speaking  of  Antinomians,  of  whom  it  appeared  there  were  then  several  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Leicester  :  "  Pray,  sir,"  said  he,  "  have  you  got  any  Antino- 
mians in  Scotland  V — "  None,"  I  replied,  "  who  avow  themselves  siich.  There  are 
individuals  in  our  congregations  who  have  what  I  consider  a  morbid  aversion  ta 
practical  preaching,  and  to  a  minute  enforcement  of  duty  ;  but  almost  all  our 
people  who  know  and  care  any  thing  about  religion  will  tell  you,  that  although 
the  believer  is  delivered  from  the  law  as  a  covenant  of  works,  he  is  subject  to  it  as 
a  rule  of  life." — '*  That,"  said  Mr.  H.  "  is  precisely  what  I  expected.  Your  minis- 
ters and  your  people  have  too  much  information  to  be  ensnared  by  such  impieties. 
Antinomianism  is  a  monster  which  can  live  only  in  darkness  ;  bring  light  on  it> 
and  it  expires." 

The  following  opinions  were  expressed  by  Mr.  H.  respecting  various  writers  in 
theology.  I  give  them  in  the  form  of  dialogue,  inserting,  of  course,  such  ques- 
tions and  remarks  of  my  own  as  led  to  his  observations.  Let  it  be  remembered  at 
the  same  time,  that  they  are  only  fragments,  as,  in  many  instances,  I  do  not  now 
recollect  more  than  a  third  or  fourth  part  of  what  was  said. 

B.  "May  I  ask,  sir,  what  writers  you  would  most  recommend  to  ayoung  minis- 
ter?"— H.  "  Wh}',  sir,  1  feel  very  incompetent  to  give  directions  on  that  head  ;  I 
can  only  say  that  I  have  learned  far  more  from  John  Howe  than  from  any  other 
author  I  ever  read.  There  is  an  astonishing  magnificence  in  his  conceptions. 
He  had  not  the  same  perception  of  the  beautiful  as  of  the  sublime  ;  and  hence 
his  endless  subdivisions." — B.  "  That  was  the  fault  of  his  age." — H.  "  In  part,  sir, 
but  he  has  more  of  it  than  many  of  the  writers  of  that  period,  than  Barrow,  for 
example,  who  was  somewhat  earlier.  There  was,  I  think,  an  innate  inaptitude  in 
Howe's  mind  for  discerning  minute  graces  and  proprieties,  and  hence  his  sentences 
are  often  long  and  cumbersome.  Still  he  was  unquestionably  the  greatest  of  the 
puritan  divines." 

After  adverting  to  several  of  Howe's  works,  Mr.  H.  said,  in  reference  to  his 
"  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous,"  "  Perhaps  Baxter's  'Saint's  Rest' is  fitted  to 
make  a  deeper  impression  on  the  majority  of  readers.  Baxter  enforces  a  par- 
ticular idea  with  extraordinary  clearness,  force,  and  earnestness.  His  appeals  to  the 
conscience  are  irresistible.  Howe,  again,  is  distinguished  by  calmness,  self-pos- 
session, majesty,  and  comprehensiveness  ;  and  for  my  own  part,  I  decidedly  prefer 
him  to  Baxter.  I  admire,  exceedingly,  his  '  Living  Temple,'  his  sermon  on  the 
♦  Redeemer's  Tears,'  &c. ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  best  thing  he  ever  wrote  is  his 
defence  of  the  sincerity  of  the  gospel  offer.  I  refer  to  the  treatise  called  the 
'  Reconcilcalileness  of  God's  Prescience  of  the  Sins  of  Men,  with  his  Counsels, 
Exhortations,  and  whatever  other  Means  he  used  to  prevent  them.'  This  I  regard 
as  the  most  profound,  the  most  philosophical,  and  the  most  valuable  of  all  Howe's 
writings." 

B.  "  Do  you  think  highly  of  Dr.  Owen  1" — H.  "  No,  sir,  by  no  means. — Have 
you  read  much  of  Owen,  sir ;  do  you  admire  him  V — B.  "  I  have  read  his  Pre- 
liminary Exercitations  to  his  great  work  on  the  Hebrews  ;  his  exposition  of  par- 
ticular verses  here  and  there;  his  book  on  church  government  ;  and  some  of  his 
smaller  treatises.  I  do  not  greatly  admire  him,  nor  have  I  learned  much  from 
him." — H.  "  You  astonish  me,  sir,  by  your  patience.  You  have  accomplished  an 
Herculean  undertaking  in  reading  Owen's  Preliminary  Exercitations.  To  me  he 
is  intolerably  heavy  and  prolix." — B.  "  I  do  think,  sir,  there  are  many  valuable 
ideas  in  his  writings  ;  but,  as  a  reasoner,  he  seems  to  me  singularly  illogical  ;  for 
he  often  takes  for  granted  the  thing  to  be  proved." — H.  "  I  quite  concur  with  the 


NOTE  A.— CONVERSATIONAL  REMARKS.  79 

latter  part  of  your  statement.  As  a  reasoner,  Dr.  Owen  is  most  illogical,  for  he 
almost  always  takes  for  granted  what  he  ought  to  prove  ;  while  he  is  always 
proving  what  he  ought  to  take  for  granted  ;  and,  after  a  long  digression,  he  con- 
cludes very  properly  with,  '  This  is  not  our  concernment,'  and  returns  to  enter  on 
something  still  farther  from  the  point." 

I  remarked  that  Jonathan  Edwards's  theory  was  opposed  to  our  consciousness 
and  our  indestructible  feelings  ;  for,  whenever  we  blamed  ourselves  for  having 
acted  wrong,  we  had  an  irresistible  belief,  not  only  that  we  could  have  acted  other- 
wise if  we  had  chosen,  but  that  we  could  have  willed  otherwise.  To  all  this 
Mr.  H.  readily  assented,  adding  some  remarks  respecting  two  of  Edwards's  distinc- 
tions :  the  distinction  between  liberty  to  will,  and  liberty  to  act  according  to  our 
will ;  and  that  between  natural  and  moral  necessity.  Respecting  the  one  of 
these  (I  do  not  precisely  remember  which)  Mr.  H.  made  the  following  ludicrous 
but  characteristic  observations. 

"  That  distinction,  sir,  lies  at  the  basis  of  Edwards's  theory ;  but  it  is  not  ori- 
ginal. It  is  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  Dr.  Owen  :  I  think  it  certain  that 
Edwards  found  it  there,  buried,  Hke  the  rest  of  Owen's  ideas,  amid  a  heap  of 
rubbish  ;  and,  finding  it  there,  he  did  what  Owen  had  not  strength  of  arm  to  do, 
took  a  firm  grasp  of  it,  and  dragged  it  into  light.  It  proved  a  monster,  and 
ought  to  have  been  smothered  ;  but  Edwards  found  it  would  be  useful  to  frighten 
the  enemies  of  Divine  sovereignty  and  free  grace,  and  therefore,  instead  of 
smothering  it,  he  nursed  it." 

Mr.  Hall  made  some  inquiry  respecting  Dr.  Henry,  the  historian,  once  a  minis- 
ter in  Berwick,  and  afterward  colleague  of  Dr.  Macknight,  the  commentator,  in 
one  of  the  churches  in  Edinburgh:  I  informed  him,  that  from  all  I  had  ever 
heard,  I  believed  Dr.  Henry  must  have  been  a  very  dry  and  uninteresting  preacher. 
This  led  to  a  reference  to  the  well-known  anecdote  relative  to  these  two  indi- 
viduals ;  according  to  which,  the  one  when  coming  to  church  on  a  Sabbath  morning, 
having  got  his  clothes  wet  by  a  heavy  rain,  asked  his  colleague  to  officiate  for  him. 
"Go  into  the  pulpit,"  said  the  other,  "and  you  will  be  dry  enough."  Some 
doubt  being  expressed  which  of  the  two  it  was  to  whom  this  remark  was  made, 
Mr.  H.  observed,  "  I  suppose,  sir,  it  was  applicable  to  both."  Immediately 
checking  himself,  he  added,  "  And  yet,  I  should  think,  that  to  an  intellectual 
audience,  an  audience  that  had  any  relish  for  Scripture  exposition,  Macknight 
must  have  been  interesting,  if  the  discourses  which  he  preached  resembled  his 
published  writings." — "  Pray,  sir,"  I  said,  "do  you  admire  Macknight  as  a  com- 
mentator?"— "Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  "I  do,  very  much;  I  think  it  would  be 
exceedingly  difficult,  indeed,  to  come  after  him  in  expounding  the  apostolic 
epistles.  I  admit,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  has  grievous  deficiencies  :  there  is  a 
lamentable  want  of  spirituality  and  elevation  about  him.  He  never  sets  his  foot 
in  the  other  world  if  he  can  get  a  hole  to  step  into  in  this  ;  and  he  never  gives  a 
passage  a  meaning  which  would  render  it  applicable  and  useful  in  all  ages,  if  he 
can  find  in  it  any  local  or  temporary  allusion.  He  makes  fearful  havoc,  sir,  of  the 
text  on  which  you  preached  to-day.  His  exposition  of  it  is  inimitably  absurd." 
The  text  referred  to  was  Ephesians  i.  8,  "  Wherein  he  hath  abounded  towards 
us  in  all  wisdom  and  prudence  ;"  and  the  "  wisdom  and  prudence"  are  explained 
by  Macknight,  not  of  the  wisdom  of  God,  as  displayed  in  the  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion, but  of  the  wisdom  and  prudence  granted  to  the  apostles  to  enable  them  to 
discharge  their  office. 

Mr.  Hall  repeatedly  referred  to  Dr. ,  and  always  in  high  admiration  of  his 

general  character.  The  following  are  some  remarks,  respecting  that  extraordinary 
individual.     "  Pray,  sir,  did  you  ever  know  any  man  who  had  that  singular  faculty 

of  repetition  possessed  by  Dr. 1     Why,   sir,  he  often  reiterates  the  same 

thing  ten  or  twelve  times  in  the  course  of  a  few  pages.  Even  Burke  himself  had 
not  so  much  of  that  peculiarity.  His  mind  resembles  that  optical  instrument 
lately  invented  ;  what  do  you  call  it  1" — B.  "  You  mean,  I  presume,  the  kaleido- 
scope."— H.  "  Yes,  sir,  it  is  just  as  if  thrown  into  a  kaleidoscope.  Every  turn 
presents  the  object  in  a  new  and  beautiful  form  ;  but  the  object  presented  is  still 

the  same.     Have  you   not  been  struck,   sir,  with  the  degree  in  which  Dr. 

possesses  this  faculty  I" — "  Do  you  not  think,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  that  he  has  either 


80  APPENDIX, 

far  too  much  of  this  faculty,  or  that  he  indulges  it  to  a  faulty  excess  V — H.  "  Yes, 
sir,  certainly  ;  his  mind  seems  to  move  on  hinges,  not  on  wheels.  There  is 
incessant  motion,  but  no  progress.  When  he  was  at  Leicester,  he  preached  a 
most  admirable  sermon  on  the  necessity  of  immediate  repentance  ;  but,  there 
were  only  two  ideas  in  it,  and  on  these  his  mind  revolved  as  on  a  pivot." 

On  metaphysics  and  moral  philosophy  we  talked  at  great  length  ;  but  I  cannot 
now  give  a  tolerable  specimen  of  his  acute  and  eloquent  remarks.  One  of  his 
observations,  however,  I  do  remember,  which  struck  me  at  the  time  as  exceedingly 
just  and  happy.  Much  had  bee-n  said  respecting  the  utility  or  inutility  of  meta- 
physical studies,  and  respecting  the  fact  that  they  as  yet  had  led  to  no  useful  dis- 
coveries. I  made  some  such  remark  as  this,  that  admitting  such  studies  did  not 
terminate  in  profitable  discoveries,  still  they  were  advantageous  as  a  field  for  cul- 
tivating and  invigorating  the  mental  powers.  Mr.  H.  said,  ^^  An  arena,  not  a  field 
Metaphysics  yield  no  fruit.  They  are  not  a  field,  they  are  only  an  arena,  to  which 
a  man  who  has  got  nothing  to  do  may  go  down  sometimes,  and  try  his  skill  m 
intellectual  gladiatorship.     This,  at  present,  is  their  chief  recommendation." 

Of  the  literary  characters  respecting  whom  we  conversed,  there  was  none  whom 
he  praised  so  highly  as  his  friend  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  and  the  following  frag- 
ments will  convey  some  idea  of  Mr.  Hall's  estimate  of  that  distinguished  and 
lamented  person.  "  I  know  no  man,"  he  said  repeatedly  and  emphatically, 
"  equal  to  Sir  James  in  talents.  The  powers  of  his  mind  are  admirably  balanced. 
He  is  defective  only  in  imagination."  At  this  last  statement  I  expressed  my  sur- 
prise, remarking  that  I  never  could  have  suspected  that  the  author  of  the  eloquent 
oration  for  Peltier  was  deficient  in  fancy.  "  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  H.,  "  1  don't 
wonder  at  your  remark.  The  truth  is,  he  has  imagination,  too  ;  but  with  him 
imagination  is  an  acquisition  rather  than  a  faculty.  He  has,  however,  plenty  of 
embellishment  at  command  ;  for  his  memory  retains  every  thing.  His  mind  is  a 
spacious  repository,  hung  round  with  beautiful  images,  and  when  he  wants  one  he 
has  nothing  to  do  but  reach  up  his  hand  to  a  peg,  and  take  it  down.  But  his 
images  were  not  manufactured  in  his  mind  ;  they  were  imported." — B.  "  If  he 
be  so  defective  in  imagination,  he  must  be  incompetent  to  describe  scenes  and 
delineate  characters  vividly  and  graphically  ;  and  I  should  apprehend,  therefore, 
he  will  not  succeed  in  writing  history." — H.  "  Sir,  I  do  not  expect  him  to  pro- 
duce an  eloquent  or  interesting  history.  He  has,  I  fear,  mistaken  his  province. 
His  genius  is  best  adapted  for  metaphysical  speculation  ;  but,  had  he  chosen  moral 
phili)sophy,  he  would  probably  have  surpassed  every  living  writer." — B.  "  I 
admired  exceedingly  some  of  his  philosophical  papers  in  the  Edinburgh  Review, 
his  articles,  for  instance,  on  Madame  de  Stael's  Germany,  and  on  Dugald  Stewart's 
Preliminary  Dissertation  ;  but  there  seemed  tome  a  heaviness  about  them,  and  I  do 
think  that  Mr.  Jeffrey  could  expound  a  metaphysical  theory  with  more  vivacity 
andelTect." — H.  "With  more  vivacity,  perhaps,  but  not  with  equal  judgment  or 
acuteness.  He  would  not  go  so  deep,  sir  ;  I  am  persuaded  that  if  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  had  enjoyed  leisure,  and  had  exerted  himself,  he  would  have  com- 
pletely outdone  Jeffrey  and  Stewart,  and  all  the  metaphysical  writers  of  our 
times." 

Of  Dugald  Stewart  Mr.  H.  spoke  slightingly  ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
somewhat  prejudiced  against  that  amiable  and  accomplished  philosopher,  in  con- 
sequence of  unfavourable  reports  which  had  reached  him  respecting  Air.  Stewart's 
religious  sentiments.  "  He  is,"  said  Mr.  H.  "  a  pleasing,  but  a  feeble  writer.  I 
would  never  compare  him  with  any  of  our  great  metaphysicians  ;  with  Male- 
branche,  or  Locke,  or  Berkeley,  or  even  with  Tucker.  Reid  had  a  more  vigorous 
and  original  mind  than  Stewart ;  and  Campbell,  I  suspect,  was  superior  to  both. 
If  Cam])l)ell  had  devoted  his  attention  to  mental  philosophy,  he  could  have  done 
all  that  Reid  or  Stewart  has  accomplished  ;  but  neither  of  them  could  have  written 
the  '  Preliminary  Dissertations'  to  his  work  on  the  (Jospels.  There  is  also  too 
much  egotism  and  parade  about  Dugald  Stewart.  He  is  always  polishing  away 
at  the  corner  of  a  subject  ;  but  lu-  could  not  rear  a  system  of  his  own." 

This  comparison  Mr.  Hall  followed  out  at  considerable  length,  and  in  language 
exceedingly  beautiful  and  magnificent ;  which,  however,  I  cannot  now  recall. 
With  regard  to  Stewart's  style,  Mr.  H.  observed,  "  That  it  was  unquestionably 


>:OTE  A.— CONVERSATIONAL  REMARKS.  81 

one  of  the  finest  philosophical  styles  that  ever  was  written ;  that  Mr.  S.  had 
carried  embellishment  farther  into  the  region  of  metaphysics  than  any  author  that 
had  preceded  him  ;  and  that  his  embellishment  was  invariably  consistent  with 
perfect  sobriety  of  taste." 

Of  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  Mr.  Hall  observed,  "  That  he  was  a  man  of  more 
genius,  but  less  judgment,  than  his  predecessor ;  that  his  style,  with  all  its 
beauties,  was  far  inferior  to  Stewart's  as  a  vehicle  for  philosophical  speculation  ; 
that  it  was  deficient  in  clearness  and  precision  ;  and  so  exceedingly  diffuse,  that 
all  that  was  valuable  in  the  four  volumes  of  his  lectures  might  be  condensed  into 
one."  I  remarked  that  Dr.  Brown  was  often  the  victim  of  his  own  ingenuity ; 
that,  in  point  of  candour,  he  was  immeasurably  inferior  to  Stewart ;  that  the 
former  would  never  agree  with  any  writer  if  he  could  possibly  differ  from  him, 
and  that  the  latter  would  never  diii'er  from  any  one  if  he  could  possibly  agree 
with  him.  Mr.  Hall  acquiesced  in  substance  in  these  remarks,  and  proceeded  to 
comment  on  Dr.  B.'s  amazing  boldness  and  originality.  He  characterized  briefly 
several  of  his  lectures,  stating  that  those  which  had  most  deeply  interested  him,  and 
which  he  thought  among  the  best,  were  the  "  Lectures  on  the  Lnmateriality  and 
the  Immutability  of  the  Soul." 

Mr.  H.  mentioned  that  he  had  read  a  considerable  portion  of  Kant's  works.  On 
my  remarking  that  I  knew  nothing  of  that  philosopher  except  from  Dr.  Thomas 
Brown's  article  upon  him,  in  an  early  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  and 
from  Madame  de  Stael's  book  on  Germany  ;  that  I  should  suppose  his  writings  to 
be  utterly  unintelligible  and  uninteresting  ;  Mr.  H.  replied,  "  It  is  certainly  no 
great  loss  to  be  ignorant  of  Kant's  works.  His  philosophy  is  a  system  of  skep- 
ticism." In  answer  to  his  question,  "  whether  I  had  read  much  of  Madame  de 
Stael's  works,"  I  informed  him  that  I  had  read  her  "  Remarks  on  Rousseau,"  one 
of  her  novels,  and  her  book  on  Germany.  H.  "  Did  you  read  her  book  on  Ger- 
many from  beginning  to  end  V — B.  "  I  did." — H.  "  I  admire  your  patience  more 
and  more,  sir."  He  added  that  he  had  looked  into  Madame  de  Stael's  Germany  ; 
that  on  finding  some  philosopher,  a  well-known  idealist  (I  cannot  at  this  moment 
recollect  who  it  was),  spoken  of  as  an  opponent  of  the  ideal  theory,  he  had  thrown 
aside  the  book  in  disgust ;  supposing  that  verj'  little  could  be  learned  from  a 
writer  so  ill-informed  as  to  be  capable  of  such  a  blunder.  He  seemed  very 
reluctant  to  allow  that  many  of  her  remarks  were  acute  and  ingenious  ;  and  when 
something  was  said  about  the  flights  of  her  fanc}',  he  said,  "  that,  for  his  part, 
he  could  not  admire  her  flights,  for  to  him  she  was  generally  invisible  ;  not 
because  she  ascended  to  a  great  height  above  the  earth,  but  because  she  invariably 
selected  a  foggy  atmosphere." 

To  the  preceding  selections  from  Mr.  Balmer's  communication  may  be  added 
a  few  of  Mr.  Hall's  remarks,  rapidly  thrown  off  on  various  occasions,  taken  from 
the  letters  of  different  friends. 

On  the  return  of  the  Bourbons  to  France,  in  1814,  a  gentleman  called  upon 
Mr.  Hall,  in  the  expectation  that  he  would  express  himself  in  terms  of  the  utmost 
delight  on  account  of  that  signal  event.  Mr.  Hall  said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  it,  sir. 
The  cause  of  knowledge,  science,  freedom,  and  pure  religion  on  the  Continent 
will  be  thrown  back  half  a  century  ;  the  intrigues  of  the  Jesuits  will  be  revived  ; 
and  popery  will  be  resumed  in  France  with  all  its  mummery,  but  with  no  power, 
except  the  power  of  persecution."  This  opinion  was  expressed  about  six  weeks 
before  the  issuing  of  the  pope's  bull  for  the  revival  of  the  order  of  Jesuits  in 
Europe,  7th  August,  1814. 

A  few  years  afterward,  Mr.  Hall,  on  an  allusion  being  made  to  the  battle  of 
Waterloo,  remarked,  "  I  have  scarcely  thought  of  the  unfulfilled  prophecies  since 
that  event.  It  overturned  all  the  interpretations  which  had  been  previously 
advanced  by  those  who  had  been  thought  sound  theologians,  and  gave  new 
energy  to  the  pope  and  the  Jesuits,  both  of  whom  seemed  rapidly  coming  to 
nothing,  as  the  prediction  seemed  to  teach.  That  battle,  and  its  results,  seemed 
to  me  to  put  back  the  clock  of  the  world  six  degrees." 

Notwithstanding  his  decided  sentiments  as  a  whig  and  a  reformer,  he  mani- 
fested through   life  a   reverence   for  ancient  institutions,  rank,  and  iiluetriouB 

Vol.  III.— G 


82  APPENDIX, 

descent.  He  was  present  in  Westminster  Abbey  at  Handel's  Commemoration, 
and  saw  the  King  (George  HI.)  stand  up  in  one  part  of  the  performance  of 
the  Messiah,  shedding  tears.  iVothing,  he  said,  had  ever  atTected  him  more 
strontfly.  "  It  seemed  like  a  great  act  of  national  assent  to  the  fundamental 
truths  of  religion."  He  was  most  accurately  acquainted  with  the  descents  and 
dependencies  of  our  principal  noble  families. 

More  than  once  have  I  heard  him,  with  affectionate  respect,  mention  Dr. 
Ryder,  the  present  Bishop  of  Lichfield,  whom  he  had  known  as  a  pious  and 
useful  parish  clergyman  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Leicester.  "  He  has  not  been 
injured,"  said  Mr.  H.,  "  by  promotion  ;  he  is  the  same  man  as  a  bishop  that  he 
was  as  the  laborious  parish  priest  ;  to  such  a  bishop  we  may  apply  the  apoca- 
lyptic title,  '  an  angel  of  the  church.'  We  may  say  of  him  what  8t.  John  says  of 
Demetrius,  that  he  '  has  good  report  of  all  men,  and  of  the  truth  itself.'" 

Speaking  of  Mrs.  H.  More's  writings  (about  twenty  years  ago),  he  eulogized 
them  very  highly.  He  thought  that  she  and  Mr.  Wilberforce  had  done  more  for 
the  cause  of  Christianity  by  writing   than  any  other  persons  living.     Somebody 

mentioned  a  review  of  one  of  her  books  in   the ,  written  by  Miss . 

«i  Miss  ,  sir,"   said   Mr.  Hall,  "  Miss  think  of  reviewing  Mrs.  More ! 

Sir,  it  is  like  throwing  soft  peas  against  a  rock." 

On  being  asked  if  he  had  read  the  Life  of  Bishop  Watson,  then  (in  1818) 
recently  published,  he  replied  that  he  had,  and  regretted  it,  as  it  had  lowered  his 
estimate  of  the  bishop's  character.  Being  asked  why,  he  expressed  his  reluc- 
tance to  enlarge  upon  the  subject ;  but  added,  "  Poor  man,  I  pity  him !  He 
married  public  virtue  in  his  early  days,  but  seemed  for  ever  afterward  to  be  quar- 
relling with  his  wife." 

He  did  not  like  Dr.  Gill  as  an  author.  When  Mr.  Christmas  Evans  was  in 
Bristol,  he  was  talking  to  Mr.  Hall  about  the  Welch  language,  which  he  said  was 
very  copious  and  expressive.  "  How  I  wish,  Mr.  Hall,  that  Dr.  Gill's  works  had 
been  written  in  Welch." — "  I  wish  they  had,  sir  ;  I  wish  they  had,  with  all  my 
heart,  for  then  I  should  never  have  read  them.     They  are  a  continent  of  mud,  sir." 

John  Wesley  having  been  mentioned,  he  said,  "  The  most  extraordinary  thing 
about  him  was,  that  while  he  set  all  in  motion,  he  was  himself  perfectly  calm  and 
phlegmatic  :  he  was  the  quiescence  of  turbulence." 

He  spoke  of  Whitfield  as  presenting  a  contrast  in  the  mediocrity  of  his  writings 
to  the  wonderful  power  of  his  preaching  :  of  the  latter  there  could  be  no  doubt, 
however  ;  but  it  was  of  a  kind  not  to  be  represented  in  writing  ;  "  it  is  impossible 
to  paint  eloquence." 

Speaking  of  Mr. 's  composition:  "Yes,  it  is  very  eloquent,  but  equally 

cold  ;   it  is  thp  lieanty  of  frost." 

"  Poor  Mr.  ,"  a  nsrvously  modest  man,  "  seems  to  beg  pardon  of  all  flesh 

for  being  in  this  world." 

Some  one  observing  to  Mr.  Hall  that  his  animation  increased  with  his  years — 
"  Indeed  :  then  I  am  like  touchwood  ;  the  more  decayed,  the  easier  fired." 

Lord  Byron  was  mentioned. — "  I  tried  to  read  Childe  Harold,  but  could  not  get 
on,  and  gave  it  up." — "  Have  you  read  the  fourth  canto,  sir,  which  is  by  far  the 
best  ?" — "  Oh  no,  sir,  I  shall  never  think  of  trying." — "  But,  sir,  independently 
of  the  mere  poetry,  it  must  be  interesting  to  contemplate  such  a  remarkable  mind 
as  Lord  Byron's." — "  It  is  well  enough,  sir,  to  have  a  general  acquaintance  with 
such  a  character  ;  but  I  know  not  why  we  should  take  pleasure  in  minutely  inves- 
tigating deformity." 


NOTE  B.— EXTRACTS  FROM  MACKINTOSH  AND  PARR,      83 


NOTE  B.— [See  page  43.] 

QUOTATIONS    FKOM    THE    WRITINGS    OF    SIR    JAMES    MACKINTOSH    AND     DR.    PARR, 
RELATIVE    TO    MR.    HALL. 

1.  Extracts  from  a  Review  of  Mr.  HaWs  Sermon  on  Modern  Infidelity,  icritten  hj 
Sir  James  Mackintosh.     Published  in  the  Monthly  Review  for  February,  1800. 

As  far  as  philosophy  and  eloquence  can  make  a  publication  important,  and  as 
far  as  very  peculiar  circumstances  can  render  it  interesting,  certainly  no  sermon 
of  our  times  merits  a  more  elaborate  criticism  than  that  of  Mr.  Hall. 

A  new  sect  of  infidels  has  arisen  in  this  age,  who,  with  a  boldness  unknown  to 
their  predecessors,  not  only  reject  religion  as  false,  but  condemn  it  &s  pernicious. 
The  great  majority  of  former  unbelievers  were  so  far  from  denying  its  usefulness, 
that  they  represented  it  as  an  invention  of  statesmen  for  the  very  purpose  of  giving 
aid  to  morality  and  efficacy  to  the  laws  ;  but  some  of  our  modern  infidels  declare 
open  war  against  every  principle  and  form  of  religion,  natural  as  well  as  revealed, 
as  hostile  to  morality,  and  therefore  destructive  of  the  happiness  of  the  human 
race.  This  extravagant  and  detestable  paradox,  which  long  lay  neglected  in  the 
forgotten  volumes  of  Cardan  and  Spinoza,  is  now  revived  and  disseminated  by 
men  who  possess  the  dangerous  art  of  making  paradoxes  popular.  Notwith- 
standing its  evident  and  monstrous  absurdity,  it  has  gained  many  proselytes  on 
the  continent  of  Europe ;  and  a  few,  we  fear,  even  in  this  fortunate  island  ; 
which,  as  it  was  the  first  country  that  was  seized  with  the  disease  of  infidelity, 
was  the  first  also  which  was  complptely  cured  of  that  pestilential  malady.  Against 
this  new  sect  a  most  vigorous  and  formidable  attack  is  made  in  the  sermon  before 
us,  by  Mr.  Hall,  the  pastor  of  a  dissenting  congregation  at  Cambridge  ;  who,  in 
his  preface,  most  earnestly  dej)recates  all  cnntpntians  hfitwpen  different  sects  of 
Christians,  in  the  presence  of  the  cuuimon  enemy  ;  and  who  speaks  of  his  being  a 
dissenter  only  as  a  motive  for  generous  emulation,  and  for  vying  with  the  church  in 
zeal  and  vigour  in  defence  of  our  common  Christianity,  in  imitation  of  the  ablest 
and  most  virtuous  dissenters  of  former  times. 

"  When  at  the  distance  of  more  than  half  a  century,  Christianity  was  assaulted 
by  a  Woolston,  a  Tmdal,  and  a  Morgan,  it  was  ably  supported,  both  by  clergy- 
men of  the  established  church  and  writers  among  Protestant  dissenters.  The 
labours  of  a  Clarke  and  a  Butler  were  associated  with  those  of  a  Doddridge,  a 
Leland,  and  a  Lardner,  with  such  equal  reputation  and  success  as  to  make  it 
evident  that  the  intrinsic  excellence  of  religion  needs  not  the  aid  of  external 
appendages  ;  but  that,  with  or  without  a  dowry,  her  charms  are  of  sufficient  power 
to  fix  and  engage  the  heart." 

Happy  will  it  be  if  this  passage  shall  produce  its  proper  effects  both  on  the  dis- 
senters and  on  the  clergy  of  the  establishment ;  if  it  shall  animate  the  former  to  a 
noble  rivalship  of  exertion  in  the  general  cause  of  religion  ;  and  if  it  shall  dispose 
the  latter  to  view  the  dissenters  no  longer  with  suspicion  on  account  of  theological 
differences  of  inferior  moment,  and  of  supposed  political  differences,  but  to  regard 
them  with  the  affection  which  is  due  to  fellow  Christians,  and  fellow-soldiers  in 
the  army  of  religion  and  of  truth.  Unfortunate  animosities  and  fatal  suspicions 
have  arisen  between  them,  from  causes  which  were,  perhaps,  irresistible.  Neither 
party,  probably,  is  entirely  blameless.  If  the  dissenters,  following  the  example 
of  Mr.  Hall,  will  sacrifice  the  pride  of  a  sect  to  the  cause  of  religion,  they  will  at 
least  have  the  merit  of  making  a  fair  experiment  on  the  temper  of  the  church ; 
and  it  will  be  ascertained  whether  the  established  clergy  of  our  days  will  receive 
the  successors  of  Leland  and  Lardner  as  these  illustrious  men  were  received  by 
the  most  distinguished  prelates  of  their  times.  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  ex- 
periment would  be  successful,  and  that  the  result  of  such  an  amicable  struggle 
would  be  a  new  triumph  for  Christianity,  both  in  the  defeat  of  her  enemies,  and  in 
the  closer  union  of  all  her  children  ;  in  the  establishment  of  Christian  truth,  and  in 

6* 


84  APPENDIX, 

the  diffusion  of  Christian  charity  :  so  that  infidelity  may  at  length  not  only  be 
exposed,  but  shamed  and  silenced,  and  those  sects  which  continue  to  differ  in 
inferior  questions  of  opinion  and  discipline  may  at  least  agree  in  forbearance  and 
mutual  kindness.  Mr.  Hall  has  shown  the  example  to  his  brethren,  and  held  out 
the  invitation  to  those  from  whom  he  dissents.  He  has  done  his  duty  to  his  coun- 
try and  to  his  religion,  and  he  has  done  it  nobly.  Let  us  hope  that  he  has  not 
sown  his  seed  in  a  barren  soil. 

Thoui'h  -Mr.  Hall,  however,  in  our  opinion,  has  victoriously  estabhshed  his 
principle  with  respect  to  this  part  of  the  subject  [the  power  of  religion  in  pro- 
ducintr  the  hiirher  class  of  virtues],  he  is  with  reason  convinced  that  the  indirect 
influence  of  religion,  as  it  enters  into  our  sentiments  and  forms  our  character,  is 
much  more  extensive  and  important  than  its  direct  influence,  as  arising  from  a 
deliberate  regard  to  the  happiness  or  misery  of  another  life,  and  from  its  litness  to 
fill  up  that  chasm  that  is  founded  merely  on  the  utility  of  virtue  in  the  present 
world.  It  is  on  the  subject  of  the  indirect  influence  of  religion  that  he  has 
chiefly  displayed  all  the  powers  of  his  viororous  understanding,  and  all  the  stores 
of  his  richly  endowed  mind.  It  is  here  that  he  exhibits  a  union  of  comprehen- 
sive philosophy  with  animated  and  splendid  eloquence,  of  which  few  other 
examples  are  to  be  found.  It  is  here,  on  a  subject  which  has  been  discussed  and 
(it  might  have  been  thought)  exhausted  by  the  greatest  men  of  many  successive 
ages,  that  Mr.  Hall  has  given  the  most  decisive  proof  of  his  genius,  by  many 
arguments  and  reflections  which  are  at  once  original,  just,  and  profound.  Those 
who  are  familiar  with  moral  discussions  know  the  extreme  difficulty  of  producing 
even  a  new  paradox  on  subjects  which  have  so  often  and  so  long  employed  all  the 
powers  of  the  human  understanding.  It  is  easy  for  men  of  sense  to  deliver  very 
important  moral  truths,  if  they  will  content  themselves  with  repeating  and 
enforcing  what  has  been  often  said  before,  which  we  are  far  from  denying  to  be 
very  useful,  and  indeed  absolutely  necessary.  It  is  possible,  though  not  easy,  for 
men  of  ingenuity,  if  they  merely  seek  singularitj-,  and  throw  off  all  regard  to 
truth  and  the  interests  of  mankind,  to  discover  some  new  path  in  the  wilderness 
of  error,  which  no  former  hnntpr  of  paradoxes  had  explored.  To  be  origijial  and 
just,  however,  is  on  all  subjects  very  difficult;  and  it  is  a  mark  of  the  highest 
superiority  of  understanding,  when  displayed  on  a  subject  which  seemed  so  nearly 
exhausted  as  the  connexion  between  morality  and  religion. 

If  we  were  to  indulge  our  own  feelings  without  regard  to  the  limits  of  our 
review,  we  should  scarcely  know  when  to  finish  our  extracts,  or  how  to  bound  our 
praises.  This  sermon,  indeed,  is  in  every  respect  entitled  to  rank  among  the  first 
productions  of  the  age.  It  is  distinguished  by  solid  and  profound  philosophy  ; 
the  very  reverse  of  that  sorry  and  shallow  sophistry  which  has  of  late  usurped 
the  name.  It  breathes  a  spirit  of  humility,  piety,  and  charity  ;  worthy  of  that 
pure  and  divine  religion,  to  the  defence  of  which  the  author  has  consecrated  his 
talents.  His  eloquence  is  not  a  |)uny  and  gaudy  bauble,  fashioned  by  the  tools 
and  tricks  of  a  mechanical  rhetorician  ;  it  is  the  natural  effusion  of  a  fertile  imagi- 
nation, of  an  ardent  mind,  and  of  a  heart  glowing  with  zeal  for  truth,  with 
reverence  for  God,  and  with  love  for  men.  His  style  is  easy,  various,  and 
animated ;  not  free,  indeed,  from  those  petty  incorrectnesses,  which  seem  to  be 
scarcely  separable  from  natural  composition,  but  perfectly  exempt  from  atfectation — 
a  blemish  far  more  unpardonable  tiian  negligence,  and  into  which  those  who  too 
studiously  avoid  carelessness  have  in  general  been  too  liable  to  fall.  On  a  review 
of  all  his  various  excellences,  we  cannot  but  expect  with  confidence  that  the 
name  of  Mr.  Hall  will  be  placed  by  posterity  with  the  illustrious  names  of  Paley 
and  of  Watson,  among  the  best  writers  of  the  age,  as  well  as  the  most  vigorous 
defenders  of  religious  truth,  and  the  brightest  examples  of  Christian  charity. 

2.  From  Sir  James  MackintoslCs  Review  of  Proceedings  in  the  Case  of  Bcnja- 
nin  Flower.     British  Critic,  August,  1800, 

He  tells  us  in  his  preface,  "There  is  no  one  living  more  guarded  in  bringing 
unsubstantial  charges  than  myself."  p.  17.  He  also  observes,  that  *'  the  mere 
change  of  sentiment  is  not  in  itself  criminal,  it  is  sometimes  virtuous."  p.  22 


NOTE  B.— EXTRACTS  FROM  MACKINTOSH  AND  PARR.  85 

After  these  declarations,  we  should  of  course  have  expected  that  he  would  not 
have  applied  the  most  contumelious  and  opprobrious  language  to  virtuous  men,  on 
no  better  pretext  than  that  of  a  "  mere  change  of  sentiment."  As  this  "change" 
might  be  "  virtuous,"  all  "  charges"  founded  only  upon  it  must  be  "  unsubstan- 
tiated." Now  mark  the  conduct  of  this  man,  and  let  him  be  tried  by  his  own 
principles.  Mr.  Hall,  his  townsman,  and,  as  we  understand,  formerly  his  pastor, 
is  well  known  to  have  lately  published  a  most  admirable  sermon,  in  which  he  em- 
ployed all  the  powers  of  reason,  and  all  the  vigour  and  splendour  of  eloquence,  in 
displaying  the  abominable  consequences  of  atheism.  "  Tke  very  head  and  front 
of  his  offending  hath  this  extent,  no  farther."  His  whole  guilt  consisted  in  this  : 
that,  being  a  minister  of  Christianity,  he  had  the  illiberality  and  cruelty  to  attack 
poor  atheism,  and  its  meek  and  unbloody  apostles,  the  amiable  French  republicans. 
For  this  great  crime,  this  miserable  scribbler  attempts  to  raise  a  louder  clamour 
against  Mr.  Hall  than  has  been  raised  against  other  dissenting  ministers  for 
renouncing  their  belief  in  God.  Bishops  may  be  libelled,  kings  may  be  slandered, 
all  laws,  human  and  divine,  may  be  insulted  and  reviled  ;  but  France  and  atheism 
are  sacred  things,  which  it  seems  no  Englishman,  or  at  least  no  dissenting 
minister,  is  to  attack  with  impunity  ;  which  he  cannot  reason  against  without 
having  his  character  stigmatized  as  a  time-server  ;  the  warm  language  of  his 
youth  cited  against  his  more  mature  opinions  ;  and  all  the  prejudices  of  his  sect, 
or  even  of  his  congregation,  artfully  inflamed  against  his  good  name,  his  profes- 
sional usefulness,  and  perhaps  his  professional  existence.  The  black  and  fell 
malignity  which  pervades  this  man's  attack  on  Mr.  Hall  raises  it  to  a  sort  of 
diabolical  importance,  of  which  its  folly,  and  ignorance,  and  vulgarity  cannot 
entirely  deprive  it.  This  must  be  our  excuse  for  stooping  so  low  as  to  examine  it. 
His  first  charge  is,  that  Mr.  Hall  now  speaks  of  the  French  revolution  in  dif- 
ferent language  from  that  which  he  used  in  1793.  How  many  men  have  retained 
the  same  opinions  on  that  subject?  There  may  be  some,  and  Mr.  Benjamin 
Flower  may  be  one ;  for  there  are  men  who  have  hearts  too  hard  to  be  moved  by 
crimes,  or  heads  too  stupid  to  be  instructed  by  experience.  The  second  accusa- 
tion against  Mr.  Hall  is,  that  he  has  imputed  a  great  part  of  the  horrors  of  the 
last  ten  years  to  the  immoral,  antisocial,  and  barbarizing  spirit  of  atheism.  Will 
this  man  deny,  on  principles  of  reason,  that  atheism  has  such  a  tendency  1  If  he 
does,  what  becomes  of  his  pretended  zeal  for  religion  ]  Or  will  he,  on  the 
authority  of  experience,  deny  that  atheism  has  actually  produced  such  effects  1 
If  he  does,  we  refer  him,  not  to  Professor  Robison,  or  the  Abbe  Barruel,  of  whose 
labours  he,  as  might  be  expected,  speaks  with  real  rancour  and  atfected  contempt ; 
but  to  the  works  of  atheists  and  anarchists  themselves,  which  he  will  think  much 
better  authority.  Has  he  read  the  correspondence  of  Voltaire,  of  Diderot,  of 
D'Alembert  1  Has  he  consulted  any  of  the  publications  which  have  issued  during 
the  last  ten  years  from  the  Paris  press  "?  Does  he  know  that  all  the  fanatical 
atheists  of  Europe  (and  England  is  not  free  from  this  pest)  almost  publicly  boast 
that  in  thirty  years  no  man  in  a  civilized  country  will  believe  in  God  "?  Has  he 
never  heard  that  the  miners  of  Cornwall  were  instigated  to  sell  their  clothes  in 
order  to  purchase  the  impious  ravings  of  Tom  Paine  ;  or  that  they  were  gratui- 
tously distributed  among  the  people  of  Scotland,  with  such  fatal  effect  that  a 
large  body  of  that  once  religious  people  made  a  bonfire  of  their  Bibles,  in  honour 
of  the  new  apostle  1  Has  he  been  informed  that  the  London  Corresponding 
Society  (enlightened  by  the  Sysfemc  de  la  Nature,  of  which  the  translation  was 
hawked  in  penny  numbers  at  every  stall  in  the  metropolis)  deliberated  whether  they 
ought  not  to  uncitizen  Tom  Paine  for  superstitiously  professing  some  belief  in  the 
existence  of  God  ?  Does  he  know  that  the  same  society  resolved,  that  the  belief  of 
a  God  was  so  pernicious  an  opinion  as  to  be  an  exception  to  the  general  principle  of 
toleration  1  Does  he  perceive  the  mischievous  and  infernal  art  with  which  only 
Deism  is  preached  to  the  deluded  peasantry  of  Scotland,  while  atheism  is  reserved 
for  the  more  illuminated  ruffians  of  London]  All  this,  and  probably  much  more, 
we  fear,  he  knows  but  too  well  !  Yet  it  is  in  the  midst  of  these  symptoms  of  a  medi- 
tated revolt  against  all  religion,  and  of  bloody  persecution  practised  wherever 
atheists  are  strong,  and  projected  where  they  are  weak,  against  the  Christian 
worship,  and  all  its  ministers  of  all  sects  and  persuasions,  that  this  man  has  the 


86  APPENDIX, 

effrontery  to  make  it  a  matter  of  accusation  against  'Mr.  Hall  that  he  exhorted 
non-conlbrmist.s,  not  toahandoyi  their  dissent,  but  merely  to  unite  their  efforts  with 
those  of  the  church,  in  resisting  the  progress  of  atheism.  He,  it  seems,  hates 
the  church  more  than  he  loves  religion.  He  has  more  zeal  for  dissent  than  for  the 
belief  of  the  existence  of  a  Deity.  His  pious  zeal  would  prefer  slavery,  under  the 
disciples  of  Condorcet  and  Volncy,  to  a  temporary  co-operation  with  the  church 
■which  produced  7'ay/or  and  Barrow!  That  such  should  be  the  sentiments  of  an 
obscure  scribbler  is  a  matter  of  small  moment  ;  tliough,  notwithstanding  his 
complaints  of  the  state  of  the  press,  this  is  the  first  time  since  England  was  a 
nation  that  any  man  would  have  dared  to  publish  them.  But  that  such  should  be  the 
sentiments  of  a  numerous  sect  continuing  to  call  themselves  Christians  would 
indeed  be  a  matter  of  very  serious  consideration.  But  it  cannot  be.  The  body 
of  dissenters  will  hasten  to  disavow  such  detestable  sentiments.  They  will 
acknowledge  as  their  representative,  not  this  libeller,  but  the  eloquent  and  philo- 
sophical preacher  whom  he  has  so  foully  slandered  ;  whom  no  dissenting  minister 
has  surpassed  in  talents,  and  whom  none  has  equalled  or  even  nearly  approached 
in  taste  and  elegance  of  composition. 


3.  From  the  Notes  to  Dr.  Parr''s  Spital  Sermon.     Easter,  1800. 

After  defending  Mr.  Hall  from  the  censures  of  those  who  blamed  him  for  styling 
Hooker  "great  and  judicious,"  he  proceeds  thus: 

In  common  with  all  men  of  letters,  I  read  with  exquisite  delight  Mr.  Hall's  sermon, 
lately  published.  As  compositions,  his  former  works  are  replete  with  excellence ; 
but  his  last  approaches  to  perfection,  tura  tov  acuvov  rtrv  xap"'  ix£'-  He  apologizes  for 
its  length,  but  the  apology  was  unnecessary  ;  for  everj'  man  of  taste  and  virtue  will 
apply  to  this  publication  what  Photius  said  upon  the  ht^t(.>l■aptov  of  Joannes  JNIoschus, 

li  aJTaiTu)V  TO  xprjatfiov  b  CTt'i'frof  Kai  b  Ototpi\rii    avijp  ipciroiicvos,  ovk  av  twv  afrrrray^noji  KOpov 

Karayvoiri.  Bacon  tells  us  that  "  the  contemplative  atheist  is  rare,  and  that  atheism 
did  never  perturb  states,  because  it  makes  men  weary  of  themselves  as  looking  no 
farther."  But  I  agree  with  Mr.  Hall,  that  "the  present  times  furnish  a  melan- 
choly exception  to  this  general  observation  ;"  and  Mr.  Hall  probably  will  agree  with 
Bacon,  "  that  superstition  also  has  been  the  confusion  of  many  states,  and  brinweth 
in  a  new  priumm  mol>ilc,  that  ravisheth  all  the  spheres  of  government." — (Bacon's 
17th  and  18th  Essays.)  The  liveliness  of  Mr.  Hall's  imagination  and  the  strength 
of  his  feelings  may  now  and  then  have  led  him  to  speak  rather  too  slrontrly  in 
each  of  his  late  publications.  In  the  former  [the  Apology  for  the  Freedom  of  the 
Press],  I  thought  that  he  ascribed  too  much  to  the  effects  of  popery  under  the 
French  monarchy  ;  and  in  the  latter,  too  much  to  the  effects  of  philosophy  in  the 
French  revolution.  But  in  both  works  he  has  made  many  wise  and  interestimr 
observations ;  in  both  he  has  preserved  a  most  beautiful  and  animated  stvle*^ 
through  both  he  has  been  actuated,  I  believe,  by  the  purest  motives;  and  bv' the 
last  more  especially,  he  has  deserved  well  from  every  friend  to  civilized  society  and 
pure  religion.  I  am  not  sure  that  Mr.  Hall  stands  in  need  of  any  vindication"  upon 
the  score  of  inconsistency  ;  but  I  am  sure  that  he  is  most  able  to  vindicate  himself 
against  accusations  really  strong,  if  .such  there  be,  and  I  am  equally  sure  that  he 
has  too  much  candour  and  too  much  magnanimity  to  persist  in  any  error,  which 
his  own  sagacity  may  discover,  or  the  objections  of  his  antagonists  shall  clearly  prove. 

Having  stated  my  wishes,  that  in  a  few,  I  mean  a  very"' few,  instances,  Mr.  Hall 
had  been  a  little  more  wary  in  pushing  his  principles  to  consequences,  which  thev 
may  not  quite  warrant,  I  will  give  my  general  opinion  of  him  in  the  words  that 
were  employed  to  describe  a  prelate,  whose  writings,  I  believe,  are  familiar  to 
him,  and  whom  he  strongly  resembles,  not  perhaps  in  variety  of  learning,  but  in 
fertility  of  imagination,  in  vigour  of  thinking,  in  rectitude  of  intention,  and 
holiness  of  life.  Yes,  .Mr.  Hall,  like  Bishop  Taylor,  "  has  the  eloquence  of  an 
orator,  the  fancy  of  a  poet,  the  acutrness  of  a  schoolman,  the  profoundness  of  a 
philosopher,  and  the  piety  of  a  sainl." 

Sincere  as  my  attachment  is  to  Protestantism,  I  confess  that  I  have  been  pained 
by  some  outrageous  invectives  that  have  been  lately  thrown  out  against  the  Church 


NOTE  C.  87 

of  Rome ;  and  at  the  present  crisis,  I  must  further  confess,  that  they  appear  to 
me  not  only  unjust,  but  indiscreet,  and  even  inhuman.  Let  me  remind  the  accusers 
of  Mr.  Hall,  that,  in  the  estimation  of  Lord  Bacon,  "  divisions  in  religion,  if  they 
be  many,  introduce  atheism ;"  "  that  there  is  a  superstition  in  avoiding  super- 
stition, when  men  think  they  do  best  by  going  farthest  from  what  they  think 
the  superstition  formerly  received ;  and,  therefore,  care  should  be  had  that  the 
good  be  not  taken  away  with  the  bad,  which  commonly  is  done  when  the  people  is 
the  reformer."  Among  those  who  censure  Mr.  Hall,  there  may  be  thoughtless 
and  injudicious  persons,  who  often  repeat  the  wiity  and  decisive  answer  of  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  to  the  priest,  who  asked,  "  Where  was  your  religion  to  be  found 
before  Luther  1"  Let  me  then  recall  to  their  memory  the  advice  which  Sir  Henry 
gave  to  one  whose  earnestness  exceeded  his  knowledge,  and  who  was  perpetually 
railing  against  the  papists  :  "  Pray,  sir,  forbear,  till  you  have  studied  the  points 
better  ;  for  the  wise  Italians  have  this  proverb,  ^  He  that  understandcth  amiss  con- 
cludes worse;''  and  take  heed  of  thinking,  the  farther  you  go  from  the  Church  of 
Rome,  the  nearer  you  are  to  God."  To  men  of  sounder  judgment  and  more 
candid  dispositions  I  would  recommend  the  serious  perusal  of  "  Cassandri  Con- 
sultatio,"  of  Grotius's  notes  upon  it,  and  his  three  replies  to  Rivetus.  When  they 
read  the  "  Syllabus  Librorum  et  Epistolarum  doctorum  aliquot  et  priorum  virorum," 
in  the  third  volume  of  Grotius's  works,  they  may  cease  to  think  Mr.  Hall  singular, 
when  he  remarks,  in  his  preface,  "  How  trivial,  for  the  most  part,  are  the  contro- 
versies of  Christians  with  each  other  !"  They  may  be  disposed  to  join  him  in  his 
prayer,  that  "  Ephraim  may  no  longer  vex  Judah,  or  Judah  Ephraim  ;"  and  they 
may  be  converted  to  the  wise  and  salutary  opinion  of  Grotius,  "  Quam  non  sit 
difiicilis  in  Religione  Conciliatio,  si  controvertendi  studium  vitetur '" 


NOTE  C— [See  page  5G.] 

CHARACTER  OF  MR.  HALL  AS  A  PREACHER. 

From  the  London  Magazine,  No.  XIV.  Feb.  1,  1821.      Written  by  the  Editor, 
Mr.  John  Scott,  Author  of  Visits  to  Paris,  <^c. 

Some  of  them  (the  dissenting  ministers)  are,  at  the  present  day,  exhibiting  no 
ordinary  gifts  and  energies  ;  and  to  the  most  distinguished  of  these  we  propose  to 
direct  the  attention  of  our  readers. 

Mr.  Hall,  though  perhaps  the  most  distinguished  ornament  of  the  Calvinistic* 
dissenters,  does  not  afford  the  best  opportunity  for  criticism.  His  excellence  does 
not  consist  in  the  predominance  of  one  of  his  powers,  but  in  the  exquisite  pro- 
portion and  harmony  of  all.  The  richness,  variety,  and  extent  of  his  knowledge 
are  not  so  remarkable  as  his  absolute  mastery  over  it.  He  moves  about  in  the 
loftiest  sphere  of  contemplation,  as  though  he  were  "  native  and  endued  to  its 
element."  He  uses  the  linest  classical  allusions,  the  noblest  images,  and  the 
most  exquisite  words,  as  though  they  were  those  which  came  first  to  his  mind,  and 
which  formed  his  natural  dialect.  There  is  not  the  least  appearance  of  straining 
after  greatness  in  his  most  magnificent  excursions,  but  he  rises  to  the  loftiest 
heights  with  a  childlike  ease.  His  style  is  one  of  the  clearest  and  simplest — the 
least  encumbered  with  its  own  beauty — of  any  which  ever  has  been  written.  It 
is  bright  and  lucid  as  a  mirror,  and  its  most  highly-wrought  and  sparkling  embel- 
lishments are  like  ornaments  of  crystal,  which,  even  in  their  brilliant  inequal- 
ities of  surface,  give  back  to  the  eye  little  pieces  of  the  true  imagery  set 
before  them. 

The  works  of  this  great  preacher  are,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  imagi- 
native, as  distinguished,  not  only  from  the  didactic,  but  from  the  fanciful.     He 

*  We  use  this  epithet  merely  as  that  which  will  most  distinctively  characterize  the  extensive  class 
to  which  it  is  applied,  well  aware  that  tliere  are  shades  of  difference  among  them,  aad  that  many 
of  them  would  decline  to  call  themselves  after  any  name  but  that  of  Christ. 


88  APPENDIX, 

possesses  "  the  vision  and  faculty  divine,"  in  as  hij^h  a  degree  as  any  of  our  writers 
in  prose.  His  noblest  passages  do  but  make  truth  visible  in  the  form  of  beauty, 
and  "  clothe  upon"  abstract  ideas,  till  they  become  palpable  in  exquisite  shapes. 
The  dullest  writer  would  not  convey  the  same  meaning  in  so  few  words  as  he  has 
done  in  the  most  sublime  of  his  illustrations.  Imagination,  when,  like  his,  of  the 
purest  water,  is  so  far  from  being  improperly  employed  on  divine  subjects,  that  it 
only  finds  its  real  objects  in  the  true  and  the  eternal.  This  power  it  is  which  dis- 
dains the  scattered  elements  of  beauty,  as  they  appear  distinctly  in  an  imperfect 
world,  and  strives  by  accumulation,  and  by  rejectmg  the  alloy  cast  on  all  things, 
to  imbody  to  the  mind  that  ideal  iieauty  which  shall  be  realized  hereafter.  This, 
by  shedding  a  consecrating  light  on  all  it  touches,  and  "  bringing  them  into  one," 
anticipates  the  future  harmony  of  creation.  This  already  sees  the  "  soul  of  good- 
ness in  things  evil,"  which  shall  one  day  change  the  evil  into  its  likeness.  This 
already  begins  the  triumph  over  the  separating  powers  of  death  and  time,  and 
renders  their  victory  doubtful,  by  making  us  feel  the  immortality  of  the  alfections. 
Such  is  the  faculty  which  is  employed  by  Mr.  Hall  to  its  noblest  uses.  There  is  no 
rhetorical  flourish,  no  mere  pomp  of  words,  in  his  most  eloquent  discourses. 
With  vast  excursive  power,  indeed,  he  can  range  through  all  the  glories  of  the 
pagan  world,  and,  seizing  those  traits  of  beauty  which  they  derived  from  primeval 
revelation,  restore  them  to  the  system  of  truth.  But  he  is  ever  best  when  he  is 
intensest — when  he  unvails  the  mighty  foundations  of  the  rock  of  ages — or  makes 
the  hearts  of  his  hearers  vibrate  with  a  strange  joy,  which  they  will  recognise  in 
more  exalted  stages  of  their  being. 

Mr.  Hall  has  unfortunately  committed  but  few  of  his  discourses  to  the  press. 
His  sermon  on  the  tendencies  of  Modern  Infidelity,  is  one  of  the  noblest  specimens 
of  his  genius.  Nothing  can  be  more  fearfully  sublime  than  the  picture  which  he 
gives  of  the  desolate  state  to  which  atheism  would  reduce  the  world  ;  or  more 
beautiful  and  triumphant  than  his  vindication  of  the  social  affections.  His  Sermon 
On  the  Death  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  contains  a  philosophical  and  eloquent 
development  of  the  causes  which  make  the  sorrows  of  those  who  are  encircled  by 
the  brightest  appearances  of  happiness,  peculiarly  affecting  ;  and  gives  an  exquisite 
picture  of  the  gentle  victim  adorned  with  sacrificial  glories.  His  Discourses  On 
War — On  the  Discouragements  and  Supports  of  the  Christian  Minister — and  On 
the  Work  of  the  Holy  Spirit — are  of  great  and  various  excellence.  But,  as  our 
limits  will  allow  only  a  single  extract,  we  prefer  giving  the  close  of  a  sermon 
preached  in  the  prospect  of  the  invasion  of  England  by  Napoleon,  in  which  he 
blends  the  finest  remembrance  of  the  antique  world — the  dearest  associations  of 
British  patriotism — and  the  pure  spirit  of  the  gospel — in  a  strain  as  noble  as  could 
be  poured  out  by  Tyrtasus. 

[The  passages  quoted  are  from  p.  106-111,  vol.  i.] 

There  is  nothing  very  remarkable  in  Mr.  Hall's  manner  of  deliverincrhis  sermons. 
His  simplicity,  yet  solemnity,  of  deportment  engages  the  attention,  but  does  not 
promise  any  of  his  most  rapturous  effusions.  His  voice  is  feeble  but  distinct,  and 
as  he  proceeds  trembles  beneath  his  images,  and  conveys  the  idea  that  the  spring 
of  sublimity  and  beauty  in  his  mind  is  exhausllcss,  and  would  pour  forth  a  more 
copious  stream,  if  it  had  a  wider  channel  than  can  be  supplied  by  the  bodily 
organs.  The  plainest  and  least  inspired  of  his  discourses  are  not  without 
delicate  gleams  of  imagery,  and  felicitous  turns  of  expression.  He  expatiates  on 
the  propliocics  with  a  kindred  spirit,  and  affords  awful  glimpses  into  the  valley  of 
vision.  He  often  seems  to  conduct  his  hearers  to  the  top  of  the  "Delectable 
Mountains,"  whence  they  can  see  from  afar  the  glorious  gates  of  the  eternal  city. 
He  seems  at  home  among  the  marvellous  revelations  of  St.  John  ;  and  while  he 
expatiates  on  them,  leads  his  hearers  breathless  through  ever-varying  scenes  of 
mystery,  far  more  glorious  and  surprising  than  the  wildest  of  oriental  fobles.  He 
stops  when  they,  most  desire  that  he  should  proceed — when  he  has  just  disclosed 
the  dawnings  of  the  inmost  glory  to  their  enraptured  minds, — and  leaves  them 
full  of  imaginations  of  "  things  not  made  with  hands" — of  joys  too  ravishing  for 
smiles — and  of  impulses  which  wing  their  hearts  "along  the  line  of  limitless 
desires." 


NOTE  E.— PRIVATE  CHARACTER.  89' 

NOTE  D.— [See  page  75.] 

AN    EXTRACT    OF    A    LETTER    FROM    DR.    PRICHARD. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter,  from  Dr.  Prichard  to  Dr.  Frederick  Thackeray, 
of  Cambridge,  describing  concisely  the  results  of  the  post  mortem  examination, 
unfolds  the  cause  of  Mr.  Hall's  acute  suffering  for  so  many  years. 

"  We  found  the  heart  diseased  in  .substance,  and  the  muscular  structure  soft,  and 
looking  like  macerated  cellular  membrane  ;  the  left  ventricle  was  judged  to  be  one- 
third  larger  than  usual.  The  whole  of  the  aorta  was  diseased  ;  the  internal  mem- 
brane, in  parts  where  it  had  not  been  in  contact  with  blood,  of  a  bright  scarlet 
colour,  which  increased  in  deepness,  and  in  the  abdominal  part  of  the  artery  was 
of  a  red  purple  hue.  It  contained  in  several  places  patches  of  bony  matter  about 
the  size  of  a  sixpence.  This  was  the  case  particularly  about  the  origin  of  the 
arteria  innominata.  The  lungs  were  healthy.  The  kidney  on  the  right  side  was 
entirely  filled  by  a  large,  rough,  pointed  calculus.  There  was  also  an  exostosis  on 
the  body  of  the  fourth  dorsal  vertebra,  about  the  third  of  an  inch  in  height  and 
prominent.  This  was  too  high  to  be  the  cause  of  the  long-continued  pain,  which 
must  have  arisen  from  the  renal  calculus. 

"  The  gall-bladder  was  quite  full  of  calculi,  though  he  had  never  experienced 
any  symptoms  referring  to  the  liver  or  biliary  secretion. 

"  Probably  no  man  ever  went  through  more  physical  suffering  than  Mr.  Hall ; 
he  was  a  fine  example  of  the  triumph  of  tlie  higher  powers  of  mind  exalted  by 
religion,  over  the  infirmities  of  the  body.  His  loss  will  long  be  felt  in  this  place, 
not  only  by  persons  of  his  own  communion,  but  by  all  that  have  any  esteem  for 
what  is  truly  great  and  good." 


NOTE  E.— [See  page  75.] 

SKETCHES    OF    MR.    HALl's   CHARACTER,    ESPECIALLY    AS    MANIFESTED    IN 
PRIVATE    LIFE.* 

Mr.  Hall  seemed  to  met  very  remarkable  for  being  always  in  earnest.  He  was 
a  perfect  contrast  to  Socrates,  who,  as  you  will  recollect,  was  called  the  ironist, 
from  his  constant  assumption  of  a  character  that  did  not  belong  to  him.  Mr.  Hall 
did  not  practise  the  Socratic  irony.  He  never  said  one  thing  and  meant  another. 
He  was  earnest  even  in  his  wit  and  humour.  It  was  never  his  design  to  impose  on 
any  person,  and  he  was  entirely  free  from  suspicion.  He  was  artless  as  a  child. 
A  sort  of  infantine  simplicity  was  conspicuous  in  many  parts  of  his  conduct. 
With  his  extraordinary  capacity,  and  a  propension  for  abstract  and  refined  thinking, 
it  was  curious  and  remarkable  to  observe  the  interest  that  he  took  in  the  present 
object.  He  threw  himself  entirely  into  whatever  might  be  the  topic  of  conversa- 
tion, and  seemed  altogether  engrossed  with  what  pressed  on  the  sense,  and  solicited 
immediate  attention.  It  was  perhaps  owing  to  this  interest  in  the  present  object, 
together  with  an  undecaying  vivacity  of  feeling,  that  he  appeared  to  enjoy  with 
the  keenest  relish  whatever  tended  to  innocent  pleasure.  Gratifications  that 
usually  give  delight  only  in  the  earlier  periods  of  life  he  enjoyed  to  the  very  last, 
as  if  he  had  not  advanced  beyond  boyhood. 

His  powers  of  conversation  were  very  extraordinary,  and  discovered  quite  as 
great  abilities  as  appeared  in  his  preaching  or  writings.  He  seemed  equally  capable 
of  talking  clearly,  forcibly,  copiously,  beautifully,  on  every  subject  however  com- 
mon it  might  be,  or  however  abstruse  and  remote  from  the  course  of  general 

*  The  great  accordance  in  some  striking  particulars  of  these  independent  sketches  of  Mr.  Ilall 
gives  them,  in  those  respects,  almost  the  air  of  tautology.  But  I  venture  to  retain  the  whole, 
to  show  in  how  many  essential  points,  every  competent  judge  formed  necessarily  tlie  same 
estimate. 

t  The  Rev.  William  Anderson,  classical  tutor  at  the  Baptist  Education  Society. 


90  APPENDIX, 

thought  and  conversation.  He  avoided,  rather  than  invited,  discourse  on  those 
subjects  that  iiiight  h;ue  been  supposed  to  be  most  congenial  with  the  cast  and 
habit  of  his  mind,  and  the  current  of  his  studies  and  speculations.  He  never 
usurpal  conversation,  nor  showed  any  disposition  to  give  it  any  particular  direction. 
He  laid  hold  of  casual  topics  of  every  kind,  apparently  to  beguile  the  time,  rather 
than  as  the  occasions  of  imparting  his  knowledge,  diliusing  his  wisdom,  or  turn- 
ing them  to  any  serious  or  practical  purpose. 

It  was  impossible  to  be  often  with  Mr.  Hall,  and  not  he  struck  with  the  degree 
of  nature  that  prevailed  in  all  his  words  and  actions,  and  in  the  whole  of  his  bear- 
ing. Incidents,  parts  of  conversations,  that  when  separated  from  the  circum- 
stances in  u  hich  they  took  place  have  an  air  of  eccentricity  and  affectation, 
seemed  perfectly  natural  as  they  occurred.  All  easily  and  spontaneously  arose 
from  the  structure  and  usual  operation  of  his  mind,  and  the  surrounding  circum- 
stances. There  was  no  aim  on  his  part  to  be  singular,  no  effort  to  excite  surprise, 
or  catch  admiration. 

A  very  prominent  quality  of  his  mind  seemed  to  be  benevolence.  He  sympa- 
thized most  deeply  with  all  forms  of  distress,  and  endeavoured  to  afford  relief,  by 
suitable  suggestions,  by  the  exertions  of  his  talents,  and  by  pecuniary  aid  to  the 
full  extent  of  his  means.  It  was  easy  to  discern  in  him  a  great  concern  and 
anxiety  to  render  those  that  were  about  him  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  a 
visible  delight  in  the  pleasure  of  his  friends.  Akin  to  his  great  benevolence  was 
an  unusual  sensibility  to  kindness.  Little  services,  offices  of  respect  and  affection, 
small  endeavours  to  promote  his  comfort,  that  would  generally  be  considered  as 
matters  of  course,  even  from  those  whose  relation  to  him  made  the  action  a  duty, 
would  diffuse  a  gleam  of  benignity  and  satisfaction,  and  draw  forth  lively  expres- 
sions of  gratitude. 


Perhaps  the  character  of  Mr.  Hall's  mind*  cannot  be  better  described  in  a  single 
word  than  by  saying  that  it  is  perfectly  balanced,  and  combines  all  the  various 
j)Owers  in  their  highest  perfection.  If  he  possessed  any  one  faculty  in  the  same 
exuberance  in  which  he  possesses  them  all,  and  in  respect  to  the  others  were  not  in 
the  least  distinguished,  it  would  be  enough  to  render  him  an  extraordinary  man. 
If  he  reasons,  it  is  always  with  strict  philosophical  accuracy ;  with  a  keen, 
searching  glance  into  the  very  mysteries  of  his  subject,  leaving  the  reader  or 
hearer  often  at  a  loss  whether  most  to  admire  the  light,  or  the  strength,  or  the 
depth  of  his  argument ;  and  generally  leaving  his  antagonist  to  the  alternative  of 
quiet  submission  or  of  preparing  for  a  still  more  mortifying  defeat.  If  he  comes 
into  the  region  of  taste  or  imagination,  here  also  he  is  equally  at  home.  With 
the  eame  apparent  ease  that  his  mind  can  frame  a  powerful  argument,  it  will  pour 
forth  images  of  exquisite  beauty  and  tenderness,  as  well  as  of  overwhelmino- 
majesty  and  strength.  In  short,  there  is  no  part  of  the  intellectual  world  in 
which  he  does  not  seem  to  breathe  freely,  as  if  it  were  his  peculiar  element.  He 
is  at  home  as  far  below  the  surface  of  things,  as  far  down  in  the  depths  of  meta- 
physical abstraction,  as  perhaps  any  mind  ever  penetrates.  He  is  at  home  amid 
the  common-sense  realities  of  life,  judging  of  men  and  things  with  as  much  accu- 
racy as  if  the  whole  business  of  his  life  had  been  to  watch  and  analyze  the  ope- 
rations of  the  humr\n  heart.  He  is  at  home  in  the  field  of  fancy,  in  worlds  of  his 
own  creation  :  and  he  can  find  in  the  mountain  and  in  the  valley,  in  the  ocean 
and  the  sky,  in  the  storm  and  the  lightning,  in  every  thing  in  the  kingdom  of 
nature  and  providence,  a  field  where  his  imagination  may  expatiate  with  unlimited 
power.  His  acquisitions  correspond,  in  a  good  degree,  to  his  original  endowments. 
It  were  not  to  be  expected,  indeed  it  were  not  possible,  that  he  could  have  gone 
extensively  into  every  department  of  science  and  learning,  in  which  his  great  and 
versatile  mind  would  have  enabled  him  to  become  pre-eminent ;  we  suppose  his 
favourite  studies  to  have  been  the  science  of  morals  and  theoloory,  though  he  has 

*  From  the  Rev.  Dr.  Sprasue,  of  Albany,  New- York,  author  of  a  most  interesting  and  instructive 
volume  on  "Revivals  of  Religion"  in  America.  This  pentleinan,  when  in  England  in  1828.  spent 
some  time  at  Bristol.  The  account  from  which  I  select  the  above  passage  was  written  before 
Mr.  Hall's  death. 


NOTE  E.— PRIVATE  CHARACTER.  91 

shown  himself  deeply  versed  in  political  economy,  and  the  various  branches 
of  polite  literature.  His  knowledge  of  the  ancient  and  modern  classics  is  exten- 
sive and  exact ;  and  if  we  mistake  not,  they  make  part  of  his  every-day  reading, 
even  at  this  advanced  period  of  life. 

We  remember  to  have  been  equally  delighted  and  astonished  at  hearing  him 
converse  for  an  hour  upon  the  philosophy  of  language,  in  a  style  which  discovered 
a  degree  of  reflection  and  research,  from  which  one  might  have  supposed  that  it 
Was  not  only  a  favourite  topic,  but  that  he  had  made  it  the  study  of  his  life. 

It  were  naturally  to  be  expected,  an  intellect  of  such  uncommon  strength  should 
be  associated  with  a  corresponding  strength  of  feeling.  This  is  true,  in  respect 
to  Mr.  Hall ;  and  it  is  no  doubt  to  the  power  of  his  feelings  that  the  world  is 
indebted  for  some  of  the  most  brilliant  and  useful  of  his  efforts.  A  man  of  dull 
temperament,  let  his  intellect  be  what  it  might,  could  never  produce  those  fine 
strains  of  soul-stirring  eloquence,  in  which  it  is  the  privilege  of  Mr.  Hall  to  pour 
out  even  his  common  thoughts.  Bat  with  all  the  strength  of  his  feelings,  his 
heart  is 'full  of  kindness  and  affection.  In  all  his  intercourse  he  is  noble  and 
generous.  His  attachments  are  strong  and  enduring.  He  is  open  and  honest  in 
respect  to  every  thing  and  everybody.  As  no  one  can  approach  him  without  a 
deep  feeling  of  respect,  so  no  one  can  be  admitted  to  the  hospitality  of  his  fireside 
and  the  privilege  of  his  friendship,  without  finding  that  the  sentiment  of  respect 
is  fast  ripening  into  that  of  cordial  and  affectionate  attachment. 

In  private  conversation  Mr.  Hall  is  the  admiration  and  delight  of  every  circle 
in  which  he  mingles  He  converses  a  great  deal,  partly  because  when  his  mind 
is  excited  it  is  not  easy  for  him  to  be  silent,  and  partly  because  there  is  so  much 
in  his  conversation  to  interest  and  edify,  that  almost  every  one  who  is  in  his  com- 
pany regards  it  as  a  privilege  to  listen  rather  than  talk,  and  acts  accordino-ly. 
We  have  been  struck  with  the  fact,  that,  let  the  conversation  turn  upon  whatever 
subject  it  may,  even  though  it  be  a  subject  on  which  he  might  be  expected  to  be 
least  at  home,  he  is  equally  ready,  equally  eloquent.  He  possesses,  beyond  any 
man  we  have  known,  the  faculty  of  bringing  facts  and  principles  which  are  stored 
up  in  his  mind  instantly  to  bear  upon  any  given  subject ;  throwing  around  it  at 
once,  to  the  mind  of  the  hearer,  the  clear  strong  light  in  which  it  appears  to  his 
own.  This  must  be  owing  partly  to  the  original  power  which  he  possesses  of 
discerning  almost  intuitively  even  the  most  remote  relations  of  things  to  each 
other,  and  partly  to  the  perfect  order  with  which  all  his  intellectual  acquisitions 
are  arranged.  In  the  midst  of  an  involved  discussion,  he  will  bring  to  his  aid 
insulated  facts  from  the  various  departments  of  knowledge,  without  the  least  hesi- 
tation or  effort,  just  as  we  have  known  some  men  who  had  a  remarkable  attach- 
ment to  order,  able  to  enter  their  library,  and  lay  their  hand  on  any  book  at  plea- 
sure in  the  dark.  But,  notwithstanding  he  converses  so  much,  there  is  not  the 
semblance  of  an  obtrusive  or  ostentatious  manner, — nothing  that  seems  to  say  that 
he  is  thinking  of  his  own  superiority  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  seems  to  forget,  and 
sometimes  makes  those  around  him  forget,  the  greatness  of  the  man,  in  the  great- 
ness which  he  throws  around  his  subject.  He  has  a  strong  passion  for  sarcasm, 
which  often  comes  out  in  his  conversation,  and  sometimes  with  prodigious  effect. 
Ke  is,  however,  ijy  no  means  severe  in  the  common  estimate  which  he  forms  of 
character;  so  far  from  it,  that  he  treats  characters  for  the  most  part  with  unusual 
lenity,  and  sometimes  seems  delighted  with  exhibitions  of  intellect  from  others, 
which  would  have  appeared  to  every  one  else  far  below  the  most  common  place 
efforts  of  his  own  mind. 


In  his  converse,  as  well  as  in  his  ministrations,  no  one  could  avoid  being  struck 
by  a  certain  naturalness  and  simplicity  peculiar  to  himself,  and  rendered  the  mora 
remarkable  and  engaging  by  its  union  with  such  consummate  intelligence  and 
eloquence.*  His  companion  or  hearer  was  alike  surprised  and  charmed  by  the 
harmonious  contrast  of  excellences,  so  dissimilar,  yet  in  him  so  perfectly  combined. 

In  all  that  he  uttered,  whether  in  social  or  sacred  discourse,  there  was  a  vivid 

*  Communicated  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  RrinfieW,  A.M.,  of  Chflon. 


92  APPENDIX, 

freshness  and  raciness  of  thought  and  expression  that  marked  it  as  the  growth  of 
his  own  mind,  and  gave  an  interest  to  his  familiar  remarlcs,  as  well  as  to  the 
more  elaborate  productions  of  his  mighty  genius.  Possessed  of  art  and  refine- 
ment in  the  highest  degree,  he  had  the  rare  and  strange  felicity  of  retaining  unim- 
paired the  charm  of  native  beauty. 

Among  the  predominant  qualities  of  his  nature,  one  of  the  most  obvious  was 
his  openness,  his  ingenuous  unreserve,  his  social  communicativeness.  Conversa- 
tion was  not  less  his  congenial  element  than  contemplation.  He  evidently 
delighted  to  disclose  and  impart  the  accumulated  stores  of  his  mind ;  while  he 
seemed  to  luxuriate  in  that  unequalled  fluency  of  graceful  or  energetic  language 
with  which  he  was  gifted.  The  warmth  of  his  aHections  was  proportioned  to  the 
strength  of  his  intellect.  His  own  mental  opulence  did  not  make  him  independ- 
ent on  the  converse  and  friendship  of  those  who  were  poor  in  comparison  with 
himself.  He  felt,  in  the  language  of  Cicero,  and  as  he  has  elegantly  portrayed 
his  feelings  in  the  sermon  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Ryland,  that,  "  Caritate  et  benevo- 
lentia  sublata,  onmis  est  e  vita  sublata  jucunditas." 

The  benevolence  of  his  capacious  heart  greatly  contributed  at  once  to  inspire 
and  increase  his  love  of  society  and  conversation ;  while,  in  the  social  circle,  and 
in  the  solemn  assembly,  he  appeared  as  a  distinguished  representative,  a  most 
expressive  organ  of  our  nature,  in  all  its  more  familiar  sentiments,  or  in  all  its 
more  sublime  conceptions  and  aspirations.  Hence  he  was  regarded  by  the  mul- 
titudes who  sought  his  public  or  his  private  presence  as  a  kind  of  universal  property, 
whom  all  parties  had  a  right  to  enjoy,  and  none  to  monopolize  :  before  him,  all 
forgot  their  denominations,  as  he  appeared  to  forget  his  own,  in  the  comprehensive 
idea  of  the  church  of  Christ. 

In  recollecting  the  moral  featuros  of  his  character,  it  is  impossible  to  forget  the 
consummate  truth  and  sincerity  which  left  its  unequivocal  stamp  on  all  he  said, 
of  which  a  suspicion  never  occurred  to  any  one,  and  which  gave  to  his  discourses 
a  solidity  and  an  impressiveness,  which  otherwise  their  argument  and  eloquence 
could  never  have  commanded.  Never  has  there  been  a  stronger,  a  more  universal 
confidence  in  the  sacred  orator,  as  one  whose  eloquence  was  kindled  in  his  own 
heart ;  never  were  the  testimony  of  faith,  and  the  rapture  of  hope,  exhibited  in  a 
more  manifestly  genuine,  unaffected,  and  consequently  in  a  more  convincing 
form.  His  was  truly  the  "  generoso  incoctum  pectus  flonesto."  This  added  to 
his  ministry  a  singular  and  inestimable  charm.  Hence,  more  than  any  other 
advocate  of  evangelical  principles,  he  was  revered,  even  by  the  irreligious.  His 
peculiar  ascendency  over  such  was  not  acquired  by  any  degree  of  compromise  in 
his  exhibition  of  spiritual  religion  ;  it  was  the  involuntary  result  of  their  convic- 
tion that  his  earnestness  was  as  perfect  as  his  eloquence.  Never  can  there  have 
been  a  preacher  more  strikingly  characterized  by  a  dignified  simplicity,  a  majesty 
unalloyed  by  pomp :  never  was  there  a  finer  combination  of  the  utmost  manliness 
and  grandeur  with  the  utmost  delicacy  and  pathos.  No  wonder  that  such  qualities, 
combined  in  such  perfection,  should  have  produced  so  strong  and  so  extensive  an 
enchantment. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  moral  graces  of  his  character  derived  a  pecu- 
liar and  accidental  advantage  from  the  intellectual  power  and  splendour  with  which 
they  were  united  ;  a  remark  particularly  applicable  to  that  child-like  simplicity  by 
which  he  was  distinguished,  and  to  that  delicate  and  refined  modesty  which  was 
the  natural  indication  of  an  interior  and  inwrought  humility.  "  Be  clothed  with 
humility,"  was  the  subject  of  his  last  lecture  preparatory  to  the  communion,  the 
last  entire  address  which  I  heard  from  his  lips  (Jan.  1831) ;  and,  as  I  returned  in 
company  with  some  members  of  the  Church  of  England,  who  privileged  them- 
selves with  hearing  him  on  these  monthly  ojiportunities,  we  were  all  impressed  by 
the  force  which  liis  pathetic  exhortation  acquired  from  his  own  conspicuous 
example  of  the  grace  he  had  recommended.  His  humility  gave  a  charm  to  his 
character,  and  to  his  preaching,  which  all  his  more  brilliant  qualities,  without  it, 
could  not  have  supplied  ;  while  it  served  as  a  dark  background,  from  which  their 
brilliant  contrast  rose  the  more  impressive  and  sublime. 

In  thus  slightly  glancing  at  some  of  the  more  retired  graces  with  which  he  was 
udorned,  I  cannot  dismiss  the  hasty  and  unfinished  sketch  without  referring  to 


NOTE  E.— PRIVATE  CHARACTER.  93 

that  sweet  sunshine  of  serenity,  cheerfuhiess,  and  bland  good-nature  which, 
unobscured  by  so  much  acute  or  wearing  pain,  habitually  beamed  in  his  noble 
aspect,  and  diffused  its  genial  influence  alike  over  his  converse  and  his  preaching. 
A  friend,  subject  to  constitutional  depression  of  spirits,  assured  me  that,  on 
several  occasions,  he  has  found  his  sadness  soothed  by  the  balm  of  a  visit  or  a 
sermon,  for  which  he  had  resorted  to  Mr.  Hall.  Nothing  morose,  nothing  gloomy, 
either  in  his  natural  temper  or  in  his  religious  views,  impaired  the  fascination  of 
his  presence,  or  the  benefit  of  his  ministry. 

The  remembrance  of  such  a  man,  especially  as  it  is  now  embalmed  and  sancti- 
fied by  death  (and  his  death  was  altogether  in  harmony  with  his  character),  cannot 
leave  any  other  than  a  beneficial  influence,  ennobling  and  elevating  to  the  mind 
and  the  heart.  The  name  of  "  Robert  Hall"  is  rich  in  sacred  as  well  as  splendid 
associations  ;  a  memento  of  consecrated  intellect  and  energy  ;  an  inspiring  watch- 
word for  the  cultivation  of  Christian  graces  and  of  heavenly  affections ;  an  anti- 
dote to  all  that  is  unworthy  in  principle  or  practice ;  an  attraction  to  whatever,  in 
the  intellectual  or  moral  system,  bears  the  stamp  of  unaffected  excellence ;  what- 
ever qualifies  for  the  fruition  of  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings ;  whatever  is  allied 
to  the  love  of  Christ  and  God. 


OBSERVATIONS 


MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER  AS  A  PREACHER. 


BY  JOHN  FOSTER. 


The  biographical  and  literary  illustrations  of  Mr.  Hall's  character 
and  performances  expected  from  the  highly  qualified  editor  of  his 
works,  and  from  the  eminent  person  who  has  engaged  for  a  part  of 
that  tribute  to  his  memory,*  may  render  any  formal  attempt  in  addition 
liable  to  be  regarded  as  both  superfluous  and  intrusive  ;  the  public, 
besides,  have  been  extensively  and  very  long  in  possession  of  their  own 
means  of  forming  that  judgment  which  has  pronounced  him  the  first 
preacher  of  the  age  :  and  again,  so  soon  after  the  removal  of  such  a 
man,  while  the  sentiments  of  friendship  and  admiration  are  finding 
their  natural  expression  in  the  language  of  unrestrained  eulogy,  it  is 
hardly  permitted  to  assume  a  judicial  impartiality.  From  these  con- 
siderations it  has  been  with  very  great  reluctance  that  I  have  con- 
sented, in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  some  of  Mr.  Hall's  friends,  to 
attempt  a  short  description  of  what  he  was  in  the  special  capacity  of  a 
preacher ;  a  subject  which  must  indeed  be  of  chief  account  in  any 
memorial  of  him  ;  but  may  also  admit  of  being  taken  in  some  degree 
separately  from  the  general  view  of  his  life,  character,  and  writings. 

For  more  reasons  than  that  it  must  be  one  cause,  added  to  others, 
of  an  imperfect  competence  to  describe  him  in  that  capacity,  I  have  to 
regret  the  disadvantage  of  not  having  been,  more  than  very  occasion- 
ally, perhaps  hardly  ten  times  in  all,  a  hearer  of  Mr.  Hall  till  within  the 
last  few  years  of  his  life.  It  appears  to  be  the  opinion  of  all  those 
attendants  on  his  late  ministrations,  who  had  also  been  his  hearers  in 
former  times  (and  from  recollection  of  the  few  sermons  which  1  heard 
many  years  since  my  own  impression  would  be  the  same),  that  advan- 
cing age,  together  with  the  severe  and  almost  continual  pressure  of 
pain,  had  produced  a  sensible  effect  on  his  preaching,  perceptible  in  an 
abatement  of  the  energy  and  splendour  of  his  eloquence.  He  was  less 
apt  to  be  excited  to  that  intense  ardour  of  emotion  and  utterance  which 
so  often,  animating  to  the  extreme  emphasis  a  train  of  sentiments  im- 
pressive by  their  intrinsic  force,  had  held  dominion  over  every  faculty 
of  thought  and  feeling  in  a  large  assembly.     It  is  not  meant,  however, 

*  These  observations  were  written,  and  transmitted  to  the  publishers,  a  considerable  time  before 
the  lamented  and  unexpected  decease  of  Sir  J.  Mackintosh.  A  very  few  slight  notes  have  been 
added  in  the  last  revlsal  for  the  press. 


96  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

that  a  considerable  degree  of  this  ancient  fire  did  not  frequently  appear 
glowing  and  shining  again.  Within  the  course  of  a  moderate  number 
of  sermons  there  would  be  one  or  more  which  brought  back  the 
preacher  of  the  times  long  past  to  the  view  of  those  who  had  heard 
him  in  those  times. 

I  have  reason  to  believe  tliat  this  representation  of  his  diminished 
energy  should  be  nearly  limited  to  a  very  late  period,  the  period  when 
an  increased  l)ut  reluctant  use  of  opiates  became  absolutely  necessary, 
to  enable  him  to  endure  the  pain  which  he  had  suffered  throughout  his 
life,  and  when  another  obscure  malady  was  gradually  working  towards 
a  fatal  termination.  For  at  a  time  not  more  than  seven  or  eight  years 
since,  I  heard  in  close  succession  several  sermons  delivered  in  so 
ardent  an  excitement  of  sentiment  and  manner  as  I  could  not  conceive 
it  possible  for  himself  or  any  other  orator  to  have  surpassed.  Even  so 
lately  as  within  the  last  four  or  five  years  of  his  life,  the  recurrence  of 
something  approaching  to  this  was  not  so  infrequent  as  to  leave  any 
apprehension  that  it  might  not  soon  be  displayed  again. 

There  was  some  compensation  for  the  abatement  of  this  character 
of  force  and  vehemence,  supplied  by  a  certain  tone  of  kindness,  a 
milder  pathos,  more  sensibly  expressive  of  benevolence  towards  his 
hearers,  than  the  impetuous,  the  almost  imperious  energy  so  often 
predominant  when  an  undepressed  vitality  of  the  physical  system  was 
auxiliary  to  the  utmost  excitement  of  his  mind. 

There  seems  to  be  a  perfect  agreement  of  opinion  that  a  considerable 
decline  of  the  power  or  the  activity  of  his  imagination  was  evident  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life.  The  felicities  of  figure  and  allusion  of  all 
kinds,  sometimes  illustrative  by  close  analogy,  often  gay  and  humorous, 
sometimes  splendid,  less  abounded  in  his  conversation.  And  in  his 
public  discourses  there  appeared  to  be  a  much  rarer  occurrence  of 
those  striking  images  in  which  a  series  of  thoughts  seemed  to  take  fire 
in  passing  on.  to  end  in  a  still  more  striking  figure,  with  the  effect  of  an 
explosion.  80  that,  from  persons  who  would  occasionally  go  to  hear 
him  with  much  the  same  taste  and  notions  as  they  would  carry  to  a 
theatrical  or  mere  oratorical  exhibition,  and  caring  little  about  religious 
truth  and  instruction,  there  might  be  heard  complaints  of  disappoint- 
ment, expressed  in  terms  of  more  than  hinted  depreciation.  They  had 
hardly  any  other  idea  of  eloquence,  even  that  of  the  pulpit,  than  that  it 
must  be  brilliant;  and  they  certainly  might  happen  to  hear  (at  the  late 
period  in  question)  several  of  his  sermons  which  had  not  more  than  a 
very  moderate  share  of  this  attraction.  But  even  such  persons,  if  dis- 
posed to  attend  his  preaching  regularly  for  a  few  weeks,  might  have 
been  sure  to  hear  some  sermons  in  which  the  solidity  of  tliought  was 
finely  inspirited  with  the  sparkling  quality  they  were  requiring. 

But  whatever  reduction  his  imagination  may  have  suffered  from  age 
and  the  oppression  of  disease  and  pain,  it  is  on  all  hands  admitted  that 
there  was  no  decline  in  what  he  valued  far  more  in  both  himself  and 
others,  and  what  all,  except  very  young  or  defectively  cultivated 
persons  and  inferior  poets,  must  regard  as  the  highest  of  mental 
endowments — the  intellectual  power.  His  wonderful  ability  for  com- 
prehending and  reasoning,  his  quickness  of  apprehension,  his  faculty 
for  analyzing  a  subject  to  its  elements,  for  seizing  on  tlie  essential 
points,  for  going  back  to  principles  and  forward  to  consequences,  and 
for  bringing  out  into  an  intelligible  and  sometimes  very  obvious  form 
what  appeared  obscure  or  perplexed,  remained  unaltered  to  tlie  last. 
This  noble  intellect,  thus  seen  with  a  diminished  lustre  of  imagination, 
suggested  the  idea  of  a  lofty  eminence  raising  its  form  and  summit 


AS  A  PREACHER.  97 

clear  and  bare  towards  the  sky,  losing  nothing  of  its  imposing  aspect 
by  absence  of  the  wreaths  of  tinctured  clouds,  which  may  have  invested 
it  at  another  season. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  imagination  had  always  been  a  subordinate 
faculty  in  his  mental  constitution.  It  was  never  of  that  prolific  power 
which  threw  so  vast  a  profusion  over  the  oratory  of  Jeremy  Taylor  or 
of  Burke  ;  or  which  could  tempt  him  to  revel,  for  the  pure  luxury  of 
the  indulgence,  as  they  appear  to  have  sometimes  done,  in  the  exube- 
rance of  imaginative  genius. 

As  a  preacher,  none  of  those  contemporaries  who  have  not  seen  him 
in  the  pulpit,  or  of  his  readers  in  another  age,  will  be  able  to  conceive 
an  adequate  idea  of  Mr.  Hall.  His  personal  appearance  was  in  striking 
conformity  to  the  structure  and  temper  of  his  mind.  A  large-built, 
robust  figure  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  a  countenance  formed  as  if 
on  purpose  for  the  most  declared  manifestation  of  internal  power,  a 
power  impregnable  in  its  own  strength,  as  in  a  fortress,  and  constantly, 
without  an  effort,  in  a  state  for  action.*  That  countenance  was  usually 
of  a  cool,  unmoved  mien  at  the  beginning  of  the  public  service  ;  and 
sometimes,  when  he  was  not  greatly  excited  by  his  subject,  or  was 
repressed  l3y  pain,  would  not  acquire  a  great  degree  of  temporary 
expression  during  the  whole  discourse.  At  other  times  it  would  kindle 
into  an  ardent  aspect  as  he  went  on,  and  towards  the  conclusion 
become  lighted  up  almost  into  a  glare.  But,  for  myself,  I  doubt 
whether  I  was  not  quite  as  much  arrested  by  his  appearance  in  the 
interval  while  a  short  part  of  the  service,  performed  without  his  assist- 
ance, immediately  before  the  sermon,  allowed  him  to  sit  in  silence. 
With  his  eyes  closed,  his  features  as  still  as  in  death,  and  his  head 
sinking  down  almost  on  his  chest,  he  presented  an  image  of  entire 
abstraction.  For  a  moment,  perhaps,  he  would  seem  to  awake  to  a 
perception  of  the  scene  before  him,  but  instantly  relapse  into  the  same 
state.  It  was  interesting  to  imagine  the  strong  internal  agency  which 
it  was  certain  was  then  employed  on  the  yet  unknown  subject  about  to 
be  unfolded  to  the  auditory. 

His  manner  of  public  prayer,  considered  as  an  exercise  of  thought, 
was  not  exactly  what  would  have  been  expected  from  a  mind  con- 
stituted like  his.  A  manner  so  different  in  that  exercise  from  its 
operation  in  all  other  employments  could  hardly  have  been  uninten- 
tional ;  but  on  what  principle  it  was  preferred  cannot  be  known  or 
conjectured.  It  is  to  the  intellectual  consistence  and  order  of  his 
thoughts  in  public  prayer  that  I  am  adverting,  in  uncertainty  how  far 
the  opinion  of  others  may  have  been  the  same  ;  as  to  the  devotional 
spirit,  there  could  be  but  one  impression.  There  was  the  greatest 
seriousness  and  simplicity,  the  plainest  character  of  genuine  piety, 
humble  and  prostrate  before  the  Almighty.  Both  solemnity  and  good 
taste  forbade  indulgence  in  any  thing  showy  or  elaborately  ingenious 
in  such  an  employment.  But  there  might  have  been,  without  an 
approach  to  any  such  impropriety,  and  as  it  always  appeared  to  me, 
with  great  advantage,  what  I  may  venture  to  call  a  more  thinking  per- 
formance of  the  exercise  ;  a  series  of  ideas  more  reflectively  con- 
ceived, and  more  connected  and  classed,  if  I  may  express  it  so,  in  their 
order.  Many  of  the  conceptions  were  not,  individually,  presented  in 
that  specific  expression  which  conveys  one  certain  thing  to  the  appre- 

*  The  portrait  to  accompany  the  Works,  hiffhly  elaborated,  and  true  to  the  general  form  and 
lineaments,  r:iils  to  give  exactly  tbat  stern,  intense,  and  somewhat  formidahle  cjryrp^.rifi?!,  which 
the  painter,  Mr.  Branwiiite,  was  very  successful  in  seizing,  in  spite  of  circumstances  tlic  most 
unfavourable  for  obtaining  a  likeness.    Mr.  Hall  had  an  insuperable  aversion  to  sit  for  his  portrait. 

Vol.  III.— 7 


98  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

hension  ;  nor  were  there,  generally  speaking,  those  trains  of  petitionary 
thought,  which  would  strongly  fix,  and  for  a  Avhile  detain,  the  attention 
on  each  distinctly,  in  the  "succession  of  the  subjects  of  devotional 
interest. 

No  one,  I  may  presume,  will  be  so  mistaken  as  to  imagine  that  pieces 
of  discussion,  formal  developments  of  doctrines,  nice  casuistical  dis- 
tinctions, like  sections  of  a  theological  essay,  are  meant  in  pleading 
that  it  must  be  of  great  advantage  for  engaging  attention,  exciting 
interest,  and  inducing  reflection,  that  instead  of  a  rapidly  discursive 
succession  of  ideas,  the  leader  of  the  devotions  should  often  dwell 
awhile  on  one  and  another  important  topic,  and  with  a  number  of 
accumulated  sentiments  specifically  appropriate  to  each ;  in  order  that 
its  importance,  thus  exposed  and  aggravated,  may  constrain  the  auditory 
to  reflect  how  deeply  they  are  concerned  in  that  one  subject  of  petition. 
Any  one  pernicious  thing  deprecated — a  spiritual  evil,  a  vice  of  the 
heart  or  life,  an  easily  besetting  temptation,  a  perilous  delusion  into 
which  men  are  liable  to  fall,  or  a  temporal  calamity, — and  so,  on  the 
other  hand,  any  one  of  the  good  gifts  implored, — might  thus  be 
exposed  in  magnified  and  palpable  importance  before  the  minds  of  the 
people. 

Will  it  be  objected  that  this  would  tend  to  a  practice  not  consistent 
either  with  the  comprehensiveness  of  religion,  or  with  the  generality 
of  scope  requisite  to  adapt  the  prayer  to  the  aggregate  interests  of  a 
ver)'  mixed  assemblage ;  that  it  would  be  to  confine  the  attention  to  a 
few  selected  particulars  of  religion,  losing  the  view  of  its  wide  com- 
pass ;  and  to  reduce  the  prayer  which  should  be  for  all  the  people  collect- 
ively regarded,  to  a  set  of  adaptations  to  certain  supposed  individual 
cases,  or  small  classes,  singled  out  in  tlie  congregation,  to  the  exclusion, 
in  effect,  of  the  general  body]  I  may  answer  that,  in  perfect  safety 
from  shrinking  into  such  speciality  and  exclusiveness,  the  great  element 
of  religion  may  be  resolved  into  particular  subjects  and  adaptations 
in  public  prayer.  Particular  parts  of  divine  truth  may  come  in  view  as 
suggesting  matter  of  distinct  and  somewhat  prolonged  petition,  con- 
ceived in  terms  that  shall  constantly  and  closely  recognise  the  condition 
of  the  people.  A  man  well  exercised  in  religion,  and  well  acquainted 
with  the  states  and  characters  of  men,  might  recount  to  himself  a 
greater  number  of  such  topics  than  the  longest  book  in  the  Bible 
comprises  chapters  ;  and  would  see  that  each  of  them  might  benefi- 
cially be  somewhat  amplified  by  thoughts  naturally  arising  upon  it; 
that  one  of  thein  would  be  peculiarly  appropriate  to  one  portion  of  the 
assembly,  another  of  them  adapted  to  several  conditions,  and  some  of 
them  commensurate  with  the  interests  of  all.  In  one  prayer  of 
moderate  length  he  might  comprehend  a  number  of  these  distinguishable 
topics,  thus  severally  kept  in  view  for  a  few  moments ;  and  varying 
them  from  time  to  time,  he  might  bring  the  concerns  which  are  the 
business  of  prayer,  in  parts,  and  with  special  effects,  before  the  minds 
of  the  people,  instead  of  giving  the  course  of  his  thoughts  every  time 
to  the  guidance  of  entirely  accidental  and  miscellaneous  suggestion. 
I  might  ask,  why  should  sermons  be  constructed  to  fix  the  attention  of  a 
mixed  congregation  on  dirstinct  parts  of  religion,  instead  of  being,  each 
in  succession,  vaguely  discursive  over  the  whole  field  ]  1  would  not 
say  that  the  two  exercises  arc  under  exactly  the  same  law  ;  but  still,  is 
there  a  propriety,  that  in  a  discourse  for  religious  instruction  some 
selected  topics  shoidd  stand  forrli  in  marked  designation,  to  a\  ork  one 
certain  effect  on  the  understanding  or  tlie  feelings,  and  no  propriety  that 
any  corresponding  pruiciple  should  be  observed  in  those  prayers  which 


AS  A   PREACHER.  99 

may  be  supposed  to  request,  and  with  much  more  than  a  passing  mo- 
mentary interest,  such  things  as  that  instruction  would  indicate  as  most 
important  to  be  obtained  ? 

But  besides  all  this,  there  is  no  hazard  in  affirming  that  prayers  which 
do  not  detain  the  thoughts  on  any  certain  things  in  particular  take  very 
slight  liold  of  the  auditors.  Things  noted  so  transiently  do  not  admit 
of  a  deliberate  attention,  and  seem  as  if  they  did  not  claim  it ;  the 
assembly  are  not  made  conscious  how  much  they  want  what  is  peti- 
tioned for;  and  at  the  close  would  be  at  a  loss  to  recollect  any  one  part 
as  having  awakened  a  strong  consciousness  that  that  is  what  they  have 
themselves  in  a  special  manner  to  pray  for  when  alone. 

Such  observations  are,  under  small  limitation,  applicable  to  Mr.  Hall's 
pubhc  prayer.  The  succession  of  sentences  appeared  almost  casual, 
or  in  a  connexion  too  slight  to  hold  the  hearer's  mind  distinctly,  for  a 
time,  to  a  certain  object.  A  very  large  proportion  of  the  series 
consisted  of  texts  of  Scripture ;  and  as  many  of  these  were  figurative, 
often  requiring,  in  order  to  apprehend  their  plain  sense,  an  act  of  thought 
for  which  there  was  not  time,  the  mind  was  led  on  with  a  very  defective 
conception  of  the  exact  import  of  much  of  the  phraseology.  He  did 
not  avail  himself  of  the  portion  of  Scripture  he  had  just  read  as  a 
guiding  suggestion  of  subjects  for  the  prayer ;  and  very  seldom  made  it 
bear  any  particular  relation  to  what  was  to  follow  as  the  subject  of  the 
discourse. 

One  could  wish  that,  with  the  exception  of  very  peculiar  cases,  per- 
sonalities, when  they  must  be  introduced,  should  be  as  brief  as  possible 
in  public  prayer ;  especially  such  as  point  to  individuals  who  are  present, 
and  whose  i)wn  feelings,  one  should  think,  would  earnestly  deprecate 
their  being  made  conspicuous  objects  of  the  prolonged  attention  of  the 
congregation.  Mr.  Hall's  consideration  for  individuals  standing  officially, 
or  brought  incidentally,  in  association  with  an  assembly,  often  led  him 
to  a  length  and  particularity  in  personal  references  which  one  could 
not  help  regretting,  as  an  encroachment  on  the  time  and  the  more 
proper  concerns  of  the  exercise,  and  as  a  sanction  lent  by  an  example 
of  such  high  authority  to  a  practice  which  leads  the  thoughts  quite 
away  from  the  interests  in  common;  tempting  the  auditors  into  an 
impertinence  of  imagination  about  the  persons  so  placed  in  exhibition, 
their  characters,  domestic  circumstances,  and  so  forth  ;  with  possibly  a 
sdent  criticism,  not  much  in  harmony  with  devotion,  on  some  tlaw  of 
consistency  between  the  terms  which  the  speaker  is  now  employing, 
and  those  which  he  may  be  heard,  or  may  have  been  heard,  to  use  in 
other  times  and  places  respecting  the  same  individuals.  In  the  lauda- 
tory tone  and  epithets  into  which  he  inevitably  glides  (for  he  never 
adverts  to  airy  faults  of  the  persons  thus  prominently  held  in  view,  with 
prayer  for  their  correction),  it  is  hardly  possible  for  him,  while  the 
matter  is  kept  long  under  operation,  to  avoid  changing  its  colour,  from 
that  of  reverence  towards  God  into  that  of  compliment  to  a  fellow- 
mortal  and  fellow-sinner. 

If  there  was  a  defect  of  concentration,  an  indeterminateness  in  the 
direction  of  thought,  in  Mr.  HaU's  public  prayers,  the  reverse  was  con- 
spicuous in  his  preaching.  He  surpassed  perhaps  all  preachers  of 
recent  times  in  the  capital  excellence  of  having  a  definite  purpose,  a 
distinct  assignable  subject,  in  each  sermon.  Sometimes,  indeed,  as 
when  intruders  had  robbed  him  of  all  his  time  for  study,  or  when  his 
spirits  had  been  consumed  by  a  prolonged  excess  of  pain,  h(=^  vvas 
reduced  to  take  the  license  of  discoursing  with  less  definite  sco])e,  on 
the  common  subjects  of  religion.    But  he  was  never  pleased  with  any 


100  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

scheme  of  a  sermon  in  which  he  could  not,  at  the  outset,  say  exactly 
what  it  was  he  meant  to  do.  He  told  his  friends  that  he  always  felt  "  he 
could  do  nothing  with"  a  text  or  subject  till  it  resolved  and  shaped  itself 
into  a  topic  of  which  he  could  see  the  form  and  outhne,  and  which  he 
could  take  out  both  from  the  extensive  system  of  religious  truth,  and, 
substantially,  from  its  connexion  with  the  more  immediately,  related 
parts  of  that  system  ;  at  the  same  time  not  failing  to  indicate  that  con- 
nexion, by  a  few  brief  clear  remarks  to  show  the  consistency  and 
mutual  corroboration  of  the  portions  thus  taken  apart  for  separate  dis- 
cussion. Tliis  method  ensured  to  him  and  his  hearers  the  advantage  of 
an  ample  variety.  Some  of  them  remember  instances  in  which  he 
preached,  with  but  a  short  interval,  two  sermons  on  what  would  have 
appeared  to  common  apprehension  but  one  subject,  a  very  limited 
section  of  doctrine  or  duty;  yet  the  sermons  went  on  quite  different 
tracks  of  thoughts,  presenting  separate  views  of  the  subject,  related  to 
each  other  only  by  a  general  consistency.  His  survey  of  the  extended 
field  of  religion  was  in  the  manner  of  a  topographer,  who  fixes  for  a 
while  on  one  separate  district,  and  then  on  another,  finding  in  each, 
though  it  were  of  very  confined  dimensions,  many  curious  matters  of 
research,  and  many  interesting  objects ;  while  yet  he  shall  possess  the 
wide  information  which  keeps  the  country  at  large  so  comprehensively 
within  his  view,  that  he  can  notice  and  illustrate,  as  he  proceeds,  all  the 
characters  of  the  relation  of  the  parts  to  uae  another  and  to  the  whole. 

The  preacher  uniformly  began  his  sermons  in  a  low  voice,  and  with 
sentences  of  the  utmost  plaiimess  both  of  thought  and  language.  It 
was  not,  I  believe,  in  observance  of  any  precept  of  the  rhetoricians,  or 
with  any  conscious  intention,  that  he  did  so ;  it  was  simply^  the  manner 
in  which  his  mind  naturally  set  in  for  the  consideration  of  an  important 
subject.  This  perfect  plainness  of  the  introduction,  quietly  delivered 
in  a  voice  deficient  in  tone  and  force,  and  difficult  to  be  heard  at  first 
by  a  large  part  of  the  congregation,  occasioned  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment sometimes  to  strangers  drawn  by  curiosity  to  hear  "  the  cele- 
brated orator,"  in  the  expectation,  perhaps,  of  powerful  salhes,  flour- 
ishes, and  fulminations.  "  Can  this  be  he  !"  has  been  the  question 
whispered  between  some  two  such  expectants,  seated  together.  A 
short  conmient  on  the  facts  in  Scripture  history  found  in  connexion  with 
the  text,  or  which  had  been  the  occasion  of  the  words  ;  or  on  circum- 
stances in  the  condition  of  the  primitive  church  ;  or  on  some  ancient  or 
modern  error  relating  to  the  subject  to  be  proposed  ;  would  give,  within 
the  space  of  five  or  ten  minutes,  the  condensed  and  perspicuous  result 
of  much  reading  and  study.  Sometimes  he  would  go  immediately  to 
his  subject,  after  a  very  few  introductory  sentences.  And  the  attentive 
hearer  was  certain  to  apprehend  what  that  subject  was.  It  was  stated 
precisely,  yet  in  so  simple  a  maimer  as  to  preclude  all  appearance  of 
elaborate  definition. 

The  distribution  was  always  perfectly  inartificial,  cast  in  an  order  of 
the  least  formality  of  division  that  could  mark  an  intelUgible  succession 
of  parts,  very  seldom  exceeding  the  number  of  three  or  four ;  whicli 
set  forth  the  elements  of  the  subject  in  the  merest  natural  form,  if  I  may 
express  it  so,  of  their  subsistence.  Generally,  each  of  these  parts  was 
illustrated  in  two  or  three  particulars,  noted  as  first,  second,  and  per- 
haps third.  He  never  attempted,  never  thought  of  those  schemes  of 
arrangement  in  whicli  parts  are  ingeniously  placed  in  antithesis,  or  in 
such  otlier  disposition  as  to  reflect  cross-liglits  on  one  another,  pro- 
ducing surprise  and  curious  expectation,  with  a  passing  glance  of  thought 
at  the  dexterity  of  the  preacher  who  can  work  them  in  their  contrasted 


AS  A  PREACHER.  101 

positions  to  one  ultimate  effect.  It  is  not  denied  that  such  ingenious 
and  somewhat  quaint  devices  of  arrangement  have  had  their  advantage, 
in  the  liands  of  men  who  made  them  the  vehicles  of  serious  and  import- 
ant sentiment,  really  desirous,  not  to  amuse,  but  to  attract  and  instruct. 
They  catch  attention,  make  the  progress  and  stages  of  the  discourse 
more  sensible  by  the  transitions  between  points  apparently  so  abruptly 
asunder,  and  leave  more  durable  traces  in  the  memory  than,  it  was 
often  complained,  could  be  preserved  of  Mr.  Hall's  sermons.  But  such 
a  mode  was  entirely  foreign  to  the  constitution  and  action  of  his  mind. 
He  never  came  on  his  subject  by  any  thing  like  manoeuvre ;  never 
approached  it  sideways;  never  sought  to  secure  himself  resources  in 
particular  parts,  corners,  and  adjuncts,  against  the  effects  of  a  failure  in 
the  main  substance ;  never  threw  out  the  force  of  a  subject  in  offsets  ; 
never  expended  it  in  dispersed  varieties.  He  had  it  in  one  full  single 
view  before  him,  the  parts  lying  in  natural  contiguity  as  a  whole  ;  and 
advanced  straight  forward  in  pursuance  of  a  plain  leading  principle ; 
looking  to  the  right  and  the  left  just  so  far  as  to  preserve  the  due  breadth 
of  the  illustration. 

This  is  meant  as  a  description  generally  applicable  to  the  earlier  and 
middle  portions  of  the  discourse,  which  were  often,  as  regarded  in  a 
purely  intellectual  view,  much  the  most  valuable.*  It  was  highly  inter- 
esting, even  as  a  mere  affair  of  reason,  independently  of  the  religious 
object,  to  accompany  this  part  of  his  progress  ;  from  the  announcement 
of  his  subject  (sometimes  in  the  form  of  a  general  proposition  founded 
on  the  text,  oftener  in  a  more  free  exposition),  onward  through  a  series 
of  statements,  illustrations,  and  distinctions,  till  an  important  doctrine 
became  unfolded  to  view,  full  in  its  explication,  and  strong  in  its 
evidence.  In  this  progress,  he  would  take  account  of  any  objections 
which  he  deemed  it  of  consequence  to  obviate,  meeting  them  without 
evasion,  with  acuteness  and  exact  knowledge,  available  to  the  point. 
Every  mode  and  resource  of  argument  was  at  his  command  ;  but  he  was 
singularly  successful  in  that  which  is  technically  denominated  reductio 
ad  absurdum.  Many  a  specious  notion  and  cavil  was  convicted  of  being 
not  only  erroneous,  but  foolish. 

He  displayed,  in  a  most  eminent  degree,  the  rare  excellence  of  a  per- 
fect conception  and  expression  of  every  thought,  however  rapid  the 
succession.  There  were  no  half-formed  ideas,  no  misty  semblances  of 
a  meaning,  no  momentary  lapses  of  intellect  into  an  utterance  at  hazard, 
no  sentences  without  a  distinct  object,  and  serving  merely  for  the  con- 
tinuity of  speaking  ;  every  sentiment  had  at  once  a  palpable  shape,  and 
an  appropriateness  to  the  immediate  purpose.  If  now  and  then,  which 
v;as  seldom,  a  word,  or  a  part  of  a  sentence,  slightly  failed  to  denote 
precisely  the  thing  he  intended,  it  was  curious  to  observe  how  perfectly 
he  was  aware  of  it,  and  how  he  would  instantly  throw  in  an  additional 
clause,  which  did  signify  it  precisely.  Another  thing  for  curious  obser- 
vation was,  that  sometimes,  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  or  just  as  it 
came  to  an  end,  there  would  suddenly  occur  to  him  some  required  point 
of  discrimination,  some  exception  perhaps,  or  limitation,  to  the  assertion 
he  was  in  the  act  of  making ;  or  at  another  time,  a  circumstance  of  rein- 

*  There  was  a  remission  of  strict  connexion  of  thought  towards  the  conclusion,  where  lie  threw 
himself  loose  into  a  strain  of  declamation,  always  earnest,  and  often  fervid.  This  was  of  great 
effect  in  securing  a  degree  of  favour  with  many,  to  whom  so  intellectual  a  preacher  would  not 
otherwise  have  been  acceptable  ;  it  was  this  thai  reconciled  persons  of  simple  piety  and  Ullle  cul- 
tivated understanding.  Many  who  might  follow  him  with  very  imperfect  apprehension  and  satis- 
faction through  the  preceding  parts,  could  rccknn  on  being  warmly  interested  at  the  latter  end.  In 
that  part  his  utterance  acquired  a  remarkable  change  of  intonation,  expressive  of  his  own  excited 
feelings. 


102  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

forcement  extraneously  suggested,  a  transient  ray,  as  it  were,  from  a 
foreign  and  distant  object  ;  and  then  he  would,  at  the  prompting  of  the 
moment,  intimate  the  quahfying  reference  in  a  brief  parenthesis  in  the 
sentence,  or  by  a  reverting  glance  at  the  end  of  it. — In  these  last  lines 
of  the  description,  I  have  in  view  the  more  closely  intellectual  parts  of 
his  pubUc  exercises,  the  parts  employed  in  the  ascertainment  of  eluci- 
dation of  truth.  There  wall  be  occasion,  towards  the  close  or  these 
notices,  to  attribute  some  defect  of  di-scrimination  and  caution  to  other 
parts  or  qualities  of  his  sermons. 

It  were  superfluous  to  say,  that  Mr.  Hall's  powerful  reasoning 
faculty,  and  his  love  and  habit  of  reasoning,  went  into  his  preaching; 
but  I  may  be  allowed  to  observe,  that  the  argumentative  tenor  thence 
prevailing  through  it,  was  of  a  somewhat  different  modification  from 
the  reasoning  process  exhibited  in  the  composition  of  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  sermon-writers.  To  say  that  he  had  much,  very  much 
of  the  essence  and  effect  of  reasoning  without  its  forms  will  perhaps 
be  considered  as  unqualified  praise.  Certainly  we  have  a  good  rid- 
dance in  the  obsoleteness  of  the  cumbrous  and  barbarous  technicalities 
of  logic,  in  use  among  schoolmen,  and  of  which  traces  remain  in  the 
works  of  some  of  our  old  divines,  especially  of  the  polemic  class.  But, 
divested  of  every  sort  of  technicality,  a  natural  and  easy  logic  (easy,  I 
mean,  for  the  hearers'  or  readers'  apprehension)  may  pervade  a  dis- 
course in  such  manner  that  it  shaU  evidently  have  more  of  the  con- 
sistence of  a  contexture  than  of  an  accumulation.  The  train  of  think- 
ing may  preserve  a  link  of  connexion  by  the  dependence  of  the  follow- 
ing thought  on  the  foregoing ;  that  succeeding  thought  not  only  being 
just  in  itself,  and  pertinent  to  the  matter  in  hand,  but  being  so  still 
more  specially  in  virtue  of  resulting,  by  obvious  deduction,  or  necessary 
continuation,  from  the  preceding;  thus  at  once  giving  and  receiving 
force  by  the  connexion.  It  is  of  great  advantage  for  the  strength  of  a 
discourse,  when  it  is  so  conceived  as  to  require  the  not  unfrequent 
recurrence  of  the  signs,  "  for,"  "  because,"  "  if,  then,"  "  consequently," 
"  so  that,"  and  the  other  familiar  logical  marks  of  conjunction  and 
dependence  in  the  series  of  ideas. 

This  will  not  be  mistaken  to  mean  any  thing  like  a  long  uninter- 
rupted process,  as  in  a  mathematical  demonstration  carried  on  in  a 
rigorous  strictness  of  method,  and  with  a  dependence  of  the  validity  of 
some  one  final  result  on  the  correctness  of  each  and  every  movement 
in  the  long  operation.  No  lengthened  courses  of  deduction  are  required 
or  admissible  in  popular  instruction  ;  the  discourse  must,  at  no  distant 
intervals,  come  to  pauses  and  changes,  introducing  matters  of  argu- 
ment and  illustration  which  are  chosen  by  the  preacher  for  their 
general  pertinence  and  effectiveness  to  the  subject,  rather  than  by  any 
strict  logical  rule  of  continuity;  and  he  is  not  required  to  answer  a 
captious  question  of  a  disciple  of  the  schools  whether  this  topic,  and 
this  again,  be  in  the  most  exact  line  of  sequence  with  tlie  foregoing. 
It  is  sufficient  that  there  be  an  obvious  general  relation,  connecting  the 
successive  portions  of  tlie  discourse  ;  so  that  each  in  the  succession 
shall  take  along  witli  it  the  substantial  effect  of  the  preceding.  Ihit 
through  the  extent  of  each  of  these  portions,  the  course  of  thinking 
might  be  conducted  in  a  certain  order  of  consecutive  dependence, 
which  sliould  make  the  thoughts  not  merely  to  coincide,  but  to  verify 
and  authenticate  one  another  while  they  coincide  in  bearing  on  the 
proposed  object.  And  such  a  mode  of  working  them  into  evidence  and 
application  would  give  them  a  closer  grapple  on  the  mind. 


AS  A  PREACHER.  103 

There  will  be  testimony  to  this  from  the  experience  of  readers  con- 
versant with  the  best  examples  ;  for  instance,  the  sermons  of  South, 
which,  glaringly  censurable  as  many  of  them  are  on  very  grave 
accounts,  are  admirable  for  this  linked  succession,  this  passing  to  a 
further  idea  by  consequence  from  the  preceding,  and  not  merely  by  that 
principle  of  relation  between  them,  that  they  both  tend  to  the  same 
effect.  Yet,  at  the  same  time,  so  far  is  he  from  exhibiting  a  cold  dry 
argument,  like  Clarke  in  his  sermons,  that  his  ratiocination  is  abun- 
dantly charged  with  what  may  be  called  the  matter  of  passion ;  often 
indeed  malicious  and  fierce,  sometimes  solemnly  impressive  ;  at  all 
events  serving  to  show  that  strong  argument  may  be  worked  in  fire  as 
well  as  in  frost.*  It  has  always  appeared  to  me,  that  Mr.  Hall's  dis- 
courses would  have  had  one  more  ingredient  of  excellence,  if  the  rich 
and  strong  production  of  thought,  while  pressing,  as  it  always  did,  with 
a  united  impulse  towards  the  point  in  view,  had  been  drawn  out  in  a 
sequence  of  more  express  and  palpable  dependence  and  concatenation. 
The  conjunction  of  the  ideas  would  sometimes  appear  to  be  rather  that 
of  contiguity  than  of  implication.  The  successive  sentences  would 
come  like  separate  independent  dictates  of  intellect,  the  absence  of 
some  of  which  would  indeed  have  been  a  loss  to  the  general  force,  but 
not  a  breach  of  connexion.  It  must  be  observed,  however,  that  when 
special  occasions  required  it,  he  would  bring  into  exercise  the  most 
severe  logic  in  the  most  explicit  form.  Many  fine  examples  of  this  are 
found  in  his  controversy  on  Terms  of  Communion.  And  such  would, 
at  times,  occur  in  his  sermons. 

Every  cultivated  hearer  must  have  been  struck  with  admiration  of 
the  preacher's  mastery  of  language, — a  refractory  servant  to  many  who 
have  made  no  small  efforts  to  command  it.  I  know  not  whether  he 
sometimes  painfully  felt  its  deficiency  and  untowardness  for  his  pur- 
pose ;  but  it  seemed  to  answer  all  his  requirements,  whether  for  cutting 
nice  discriminations,  or  presenting  abstractions  in  a  tangible  form,  or 
investing  grand  subjects  with  splendour,  or  imparting  a  pathetic  tone  to 
expostulation,  or  inflaming  the  force  of  invective,  or  treating  common 
topics  without  the  insipidity  of  commonplace  diction.  His  language 
in  the  pulpit  was  hardly  ever  colloquial,  but  neither  was  it  of  an  arti- 
ficial cast.  It  was  generally  as  little  booJdsh  as  might  consist  with  a 
uniformly  sustained  and  serious  style.  Now  and  then  there  would  be 
a  scholastic  term,  beyond  the  popular  understanding,  so  familiar  to  him- 
self, from  his  study  of  philosophers  and  old  divines,  as  to  be  the  first 
word  occurring  to  him  in  his  rapid  delivery.  Some  conventional 
phrases  which  he  Avas  in  the  habit  of  using  (for  instance,  "  to  usher 
in,"  "  to  give  birth  to,"  &c.)  might  better  have  been  exchanged  for 
plain  unfigurative  verbs.  His  language  in  preaching,  as  in  conversa- 
tion, was  in  one  considerable  point  better  than  in  his  well-known  and 
elaborately  composed  sermons,  in  being  more  natural  and  flexible. 
When  he  set  in  reluctantly  upon  that  operose  employment,  his  style 
was  apt  to  assume  a  certain  processional  stateliness  of  march,  a  rhe- 
torical rounding  of  periods,  a  too  frequent  inversion  of  the  natural  order 
of  the  sentence,  with  a  morbid  dread  of  degi-ading  it  to  end  in  a  par- 
ticle or  other  small-looking  word  ;  a  stiaicture  in  which  I  doubt  whether 
the  augmented  appearance  of  strength  and  dignity  be  a  compensation 
for  the  sacrifice  of  a  natural,  living,  and  variable  freedom  of  compo- 
sition.    A  remarkable  difference  will  be  perceived  between  the  higlily- 

*  Among  otners,  I  misht  name  Stillingfleet's  sermons,  as  exemplifying  this  manner  of  connexion 
in  the  scries  of  ideas.  If  reference  were  made  to  ancient  elofjuence,  Demosthenes  would  be  cited 
as  the  transcendent  example  of  this  e.xcellence. 


104  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

wrpught  sermons  lone:  since  published,  and  the  short  ones  now  printed, 
which  were  written  without  a  thought  of  the  press  ;  a  difference  to  the 
advantage  of  the  latter  in  tlie  grace  of  simplicity.  Both  in  his  conver- 
sation and  his  public  speaking,  there  was  often,  besides  and  beyond 
the  merit  of  clearness,  precision,  and  brevity,  a  certain  felicity  of  dic- 
tion ;  something  which,  had  it  not  been  common  in  his  discourse, 
would  have  appeared  the  special  good  luck  of  falling  without  care  of 
selection  on  the  aptest  Avords,  cast  in  elegant  combination,  and  pro- 
ducing an  effect  of  beauty  even  when  there  was  nothing  expressly 
ornamental. 

From  the  pleasure  there  is  in  causing  and  feeling  surprise  by  the 
exaggeration  of  what  is  extraordinary  into  something  absolutely  mar- 
vellous, persons  of  Mr.  Hall's  acquaintance,  especially  in  his  earlier 
life,  have  taken  great  license  of  fiction  in  stories  of  his  extemporaneous 
eloquence.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  have  an  admired  sermon  asserted 
to  have  been  thrown  off  in  an  emergency  on  the  strength  of  an  hour's 
previous  study.  This  matter  has  been  set  right  in  Dr.  Gregory's 
curious  and  interesting  note  (prefixed  to  vol.  i.)  describing  the  preacher's 
usual  manner  of  preparation ;  and  showing  that  it  was  generally  made 
with  deliberate  care.*  But  whatever  proportion  of  the  discourse  was 
from  premeditation,  the  hearer  could  not  distinguish  that  from  what 
was  extemporaneous.  There  were  no  periods  betraying,  by  a  me- 
chanical utterance,  a  mere  recitation.  Every  sentence  had  so  much 
the  spirit  and  significance  of  present  immediate  thinking,  as  to  prove  it 
a  living  dictate  of  the  speaker's  mind,  whether  it  came  in  the  way  of 
recollection  or  in  the  fresh  production  of  the  moment.  And  in  most 
of  his  sermons,  the  more  animated  ones  especially,  a  verj^  large  pro- 
portion of  what  he  spoke  must  have  been  of  this  immediate  origination  ; 
it  was  impossible  that  less  than  this  should  be  the  effect  of  the  excited 
state  of  a  mind  so  powerfid  in  thinking,  so  extremely  prompt  in  the 
use  of  that  power,  and  in  possession  of  such  copious  materials. 

Some  of  his  discourses  were  of  a  calm  temperament  nearly  through- 
out ;  even  these,  however,  never  failing  to  end  with  a  pressing  enforce- 
ment of  the  subject.  But  in  a  considerable  portion  of  them  (a  large 
one,  it  is  said,  during  all  but  a  late  period  of  his  life)  he  warmed  into 
emotion  before  he  had  advanced  through  what  might  be  called  the 
discussion.  The  intellectual  process,  the  explications,  arguments,  and 
exemplifications,  would  then  be  animated,  without  being  confused, 
obscured,  or  too  much  dilated  by  that  more  vital  clement  which  we 
denominate  sentiment;  while  striking  figures,  at  intervals,  emitted  a 
momentary  brightness ;  so  that  the  understanding,  the  passions,  and  the 
imagination  of  the  hearers  were  all  at  once  brought  under  command, 
by  a  combination  of  the  forces  adapted  to  seize  possession  of  each. 
The  sf>irit  of  such  discourses  would  grow  into  intense  fervour,  even 
before  they  approached  the  conclusion. 

In  the  most  admired  of  his  sermons,  and  invariably  in  all  his  preach- 
ing, there  was  one  excellence,  of  a  moral  kind,  in  which  few  eloquent 
preachers  have  ever  equalled,  and  none  ever  did  or  will  surpass  him. 
It  was  so  remarkable  and  obvious,  that  the  reader  (if  having  been  also 
a  hearer  of  Mr.  Hall)  will  have  gone  before  me  wlien  I  name — oblivion 
of  self.     The  preacher  appeared  wholly  absorbed  in  his  subject,  given 

*  Once,  in  a  ronversation  with  a  few  friends  who  had  led  him  to  l.ilk  of  his  preaching,  and  to 
answer,  among  oilier  questions,  one  resiwolint  this  supposed  and  reported  extemporaneous  pro- 
duction of  tlie  most  striking  ))arts  of  his  sermons  in  the  early  period  of  liis  ministry,  he  surprised 
us  by  saying,  tliai  most  of  them,  so  far  from  being  extemporaneous,  had  been  so  deliberately  pre- 
pared that  the  words  were  selected,  and  the  construction  and  order  ofthe  sentences  adjusted. 


AS  A  PREACHER.  l05 

up  to  its  possession,  as  the  single  actuating  principle  and  impulse  of  the 
mental  achievement  which  he  was  as  if  unconsciously  performing :  as 
if  unconsciously ;  for  it  is  impossible  it  could  be  literally  so ;  yet  his 
absorption  was  so  evident,  there  was  so  clear  an  absence  of  every 
betraying  sign  of  vanity,  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that  reflection  on  himself, 
the  tacit  thought,  'It  is  I  that  am  displaying  this  excellence  of  speech,' 
was  the  faintest  action  of  his  mind.  His  auditory  were  sure  that  it 
was  as  in  relation  to  his  subject,  and  not  to  himself,  that  he  regarded  the 
feelings  with  which  they  might  hear  him. 

What  a  contrast  to  divers  showy  and  admired  orators,  whom  the 
reader  will  remember  to  have  seen  in  the  pulpit  and  elsewhere  !  For 
who  has  not  witnessed,  perhaps  more  times  than  a  few,  a  pulpit  exhi- 
bition, which  unwittingly  told  that  the  speaker  was  to  be  himself  as 
prominent,  at  the  least,  as  his  sacred  theme  ?  Who  has  not  observed 
the  glimmer  of  a  self-complacent  smile,  partly  reflected,  as  it  were,  on 
his  visage,  from  the  plausive  visages  confronting  him,  and  partly  lighted 
from  witliin,  by  the  blandishment  of  a  still  warmer  admirer  ?  Who 
has  not  seen  him  swelling  with  a  tone  and  air  of  conscious  importance 
in  some  specially  /?nc  passage ;  prolonging  it,  holding  it  up,  spreading  out 
another  and  yet  another  scarlet  fold,  with  at  last  a  temporary  stop  to 
survey  the  assembly,  as  challenging  their  tributary  looks  of  admiration, 
radiating  on  himself,  or  interchanged  among  sympathetic  individuals  in 
the  congregation  %  Such  a  preacher  might  have  done  well  to  become  a 
hearer  for  a  while  ;  if  indeed  capable  of  receiving  any  corrective  instruc- 
tion from  an  example  of  his  reverse  ;  for  there  have  been  instances  of 
preachers  actually  spoiling  themselves  still  worse  in  consequence  of 
hearing  some  of  Mr.  Hall's  eloquent  effusions  ;  assuming,  beyond  their 
previous  sufficiency  of  such  graces,  a  vociferous  declamation,  a  forced 
look  of  force,  and  a  tumour  of  verbiage,  from  unaccountable  failure 
to  perceive,  or  to  make  a  right  use  of  the  perception,  that  his  some- 
times impetuous  delivery,  ardent  aspect,  and  occasionally  magnificent 
diction  were  all  purely  spontaneous  from  the  strong  excitement  of 
the  subject. 

Under  that  excitement,  when  it  was  the  greatest,  he  did  unconsciously 
acquire  a  corresponding  elation  of  attitude  and  expression ;  would  turn, 
though  not  with  frequent  change,  towards  the  different  parts  of  the 
assembly,  and  as  almost  his  only  peculiarity  of  action,  would  make 
one  step  back  from  his  position  (which,  however,  was  instantly  resumed) 
at  the  last  word  of  a  climax  ;  an  action  which  inevitably  suggested  the 
idea  of  the  recoil  of  heavy  ordnance.*  I  mention  so  inconsiderable  a 
circumstance,  because  I  think  it  has  somewhere  lately  been  noticed 
with  a  hinted  imputation  of  vanity.  But  to  the  feeling  of  his  constant 
hearers,  the  cool  and  hypercritical  equally  with  the  rest,  it  was  merely 
one  of  those  effects  which  emotion  always  produces  in  the  exterior  in 
one  mode  or  another,  and  was  accidentally  become  associated  v/ith  the 
rising  of  his  excitement  to  its  highest  pitch,  just  at  the  sentence  which 
decisively  clenched  an  argument,  or  gave  the  last  strongest  emphasis  to 
an  enforcement.  This  action  never  occurred  but  when  there  was  a 
special  emphasis  in  what  he  said. 

Thus  the  entire  possession  and  actuation  of  his  mind  by  his  subject, 

*  In  sermons  plainlj'  and  almost  exclusively  exegetical,  or  in  which  hotlily  disorder  repressed  his 
characteristic  ener<iy,  he  would  often  keep  nearly  one  posture,  looking  straight  forward  during  the 
whole  service.  At  all  times,  his  gesture  was  clear  of  every  trace  of  art  and  intention.  Indeed,  he 
had  scarcely  any  thing  of  wliat  is  meant  by  gesticulation  or  action  in  the  schools  of  oratory.  It  was 
what  he  never  thought  of  for  himself,  and  he  despised  its  artificial  exhibition  in  others,  at  least  in 
preachers. 


106  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

evident  in  every  way,  was  especially  so  by  two  signs  : — first,  that  hia 
delivery  was  simply  and  unconsciously  governed  by  his  mind.  When 
it  was  particularly  animated,  or  solemn,  or  pathetic,  or  indignant,  it  was 
such,  not  by  rule,  intention,  or  any  thought  of  rhetorical  fitness  ;  but  in 
involuntary  accordance  with  the  strain  of  the  thought  and  feeling.  In 
this  sense,  he  "  spake  as  he  was  moved  :"  and  consequently  nothing  in 
his  manner  of  delivery  Avas  either  out  of  the  right  place,  or  m  it  by 
studied  adjustment.* 

The  other  indication  of  being  totally  surrendered  to  the  subject,  and 
borne  on  by  its  impetus  when  the  current  became  strong,  was  (in  perfect 
contrast  to  what  is  described  above)  the  rapid  passing  by,  and  passing 
away,  of  any  striking  sentiment  or  splendid  image.  He  never  detained 
it  in  view  by  reduplications  and  amplifying  phrases,  as  if  he  would  not 
let  it  vanish  so  soon ;  as  if  he  were  enamoured  of  it,  and  wanted  his 
hearers  to  be  so  for  his  sake  ;  as  if  he  wished  to  stand  a  while  con- 
spicuous by  its  lustre  upon  him.  It  glistened  or  flashed  a  moment,  and 
was  gone. 

The  shining  points  were  the  more  readily  thus  hastened  away,  as 
they  intimately  belonged  to  that  which  was  passing.  They  occurred 
not  as  of  arbitrary  insertion,  but  with  the  appropriateness  of  a  natural 
relation.  However  unexpectedly  any  brilliant  idea  might  present  itself, 
its  impression  was  true  and  immediate  to  the  purpose.  Instead  of 
arresting  and  diverting  the  attention  to  itself,  as  a  thing  standing  out, 
to  be  separately  admired  for  its  own  sake,  it  fell  congenially  into  the 
train,  and  augmented  without  disturbing  the  effect.  The  fine  passage 
would,  indeed,  in  many  instances,  admit  of  being  taken  apart,  and 
would  in  a  detached  state  retain  much  of  its  beauty  :  but  its  greatest 
virtue  was  in  animating  the  whole  combination  of  sentiments.  Mr. 
Hall's  imagination  always  acted  in  direct  subservience  to  his  intel- 
lectual design. 

A  seriousness  of  spirit  and  manner  was  an  invariable  characteristic 
of  his  preaching,  whatever  were  the  topic,  or  occasion,  or  place,  or 
preceding  social  intercourse,  or  temporary  mood  of  his  feelings.  As 
his  conversation  often  abounded  with  wit,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
term,  with  the  accompaniment  of  humour,  both  frequently  playing  into 
satire  (in  which  he  was  not  a  little  formidable),  it  has  been  justly  won- 
dered that  nothing  of  this  kind  appeared  in  his  sermons.  1  now  wish  I 
had  ventured  to  ask  him  how  this  happened ;  whether  it  was  that  he 
had  determined,  on  principle,  to  forbid  himself  all  strokes  and  sparkles 
of  that  anuising  faculty,  as  in  every  case  detrimental  to  the  effect  of 
preaching ;  or  that  no  witty  turns  or  fancies  did  really  ever  occur  to 
him  during  that  exercise.  However  the  case  might  be,  all  the  repeaters 
of  his  witty  vivacities  and  severities  have  forborne,  as  far  as  I  ever 
heard,  to  report  any  one  of  them  as  a  sentence  of  a  sermon.  No  more 
than  a  single  instance  is  within  my  own  recollection  of  any  thing  devious 
on  this  side  from  his  accustomed  tenor ;  it  was  a  most  biting  sarcasm 
at  the  hypocritical  cant  of  those  wealthy  persons  who  pretend  a  con- 
cern for  the  promotion  of  the  Christian  cause,  but,  under  the  affectation 

*  I  remeinhcr,  at  itie  distance  of  many  year.s,  with  what  a  vivid  feeling  of  the  ludicrous  he  related 
an  anecdote  of  a  preacher,  long  since  deceased,  of  some  account  in  his  day  and  connexion.  He 
would,  in  pruacliinH,  Koinetimcs  weep,  or  set  in  to  weep,  when  the  people  wondered  why,  as  not 
perceiving  m  what  he  was  saying  any  cause  for  such  cmdtion,  in  the  exact  places  where  it 
occurred.  After  his  death,  one  of  his  hearers  happening  to  inspect  some  of  liis  manuscript 
sermons,  exclaimed,  "  1  have  found  the  e.\|ilanation  ;  we  used  to  wonder  at  the  good  doctoi^s 
weeping  with  so  little  reason  sonielimes,  as  it  seemed.  In  his  sermons,  there  is  written  here 
a/id  there  in  the  margins, '  Cry  here ;'  now  I  verily  believe  the  doctor  sometimes  mistook  tlie  place, 
and  that  was  the  cause  of  what  a))pcared  so  unaccountable." 


AS  A  PREACHER.  107 

of  a  pious  trust  in  Providence  for  that  promotion,  take  good  care  to 
hold  fast  all  but  some  parsimonious  driblets  of  their  money. 

The  absorbing  seizure  of  his  faculties  by  his  subject,  when  it  was 
prosecuted  at  uninterrupted  length,  carried  him  sometimes,  I  suspected, 
into  a  peculiar  and  extraordinary  state  of  mind  for  a  public  speaker. 
It  appeared  to  me  not  unfrequently  that  his  ideas  pressed  into  his  view 
so  much  in  the  character  of  living  realities,  that  he  lost  all  distinct 
sense  of  the  presence  of  the  congregation ;  so  that  he  had  for  a  while 
no  more  than  a  general  and  almost  unconscious  recognition  of  them 
as  listening  to  him.  His  look  at  such  times  was  that  of  a  person  so 
withdrawn  to  something  within,  that  he  is  evidently  taking  no  notice  of 
what  his  eyes  appear  to  fall  upon.  In  confirmation  that  the  case  was 
so,  I  remember  mstances  in  which,  being  asked,  after  the  service, 
whether  he  had  not  been  grievously  annoyed  by  an  almost  incessant 
and  most  thoughtlessly  unrepressed  coughing  in  many  parts  of  the 
congregation,  with  other  offensive  and  more  voluntary  noises,  which 
had  destroyed  a  third  part  at  the  least  of  his  sentences  for  the  hearing 
of  a  great  proportion  of  the  assembly,  he  said  he  had  not  been  at  all 
aware  there  was  any  such  annoyance.  It  needs  not  to  be  ohserved, 
to  those  who  have  heard  him,  how  necessary  it  was  rendered  by  the 
defect  of  clear  strong  sound  in  his  voice,  when  not  forcibly  exerted, 
that  no  other  sounds  should  interfere. 

At  other  times,  however,  he  was  in  every  sense  present  to  his  audi- 
tory, and  spoke  to  them  in  pointed  address  ;  especially  when  a  hortatory 
application  at  the  end  made  them  all  feel  that  he  was  earnestly  desirous 
to  instruct,  impress,  and  persuade. — I  may  have  occasion  to  advert 
again,  with  a  somewhat  different  reference,  to  the  circumstance  of  his 
mental  abstraction. 

It  has  been  observed  that  he  had  the  command  of  ample  and  various 
resources  for  illustration  and  proof.  The  departments  from  which  he 
drew  the  least  might  be,  the  facts  and  philosophy  of  the  material  world. 
His  studies  had  been  directed  with  a  strong  and  habitual  preference  to 
the  regions  of  abstraction  and  metaphysics.  And  he  furnished  a  fine 
example  of  the  advantage  which  may  be  derived  from  such  studies  to 
the  faculty  for  theological  and  moral  discussions,  by  a  mind  at  the  same 
time  too  full  of  ardour,  sentiment,  and  piety  to  be  cooled  and  dried 
into  an  indifference  to  every  thing  but  the  most  disembodied  and  atten- 
uated speculation.  The  advantage,  as  exemplified  by  him.  of  the  prac- 
tice and  discipline  of  dealing  with  truth  in  the  abstract,  where  a  severe 
attention  is  required  to  apprehend  it  as  a  real  subsistence,  to  see  and 
grasp  it,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  tangible  forms,  might  be  noted  as  two- 
fold. First  (that  which  has  been  anticipated  in  former  remarks),  the 
utmost  precision  in  every  thing  he  uttered.  He  could  express  each 
dictate  of  thought  in  perfect  freedom  from  doubt  whether  it  might  not  be 
equivocal ;  whether  it  might  not  be  of  loose  import  and  vague  direction, 
instead  of  strictly  to  the  point;  whether  it  might  not  involve  some 
latent  inconsistency  within  itself  or  in  its  immediate  conjunction  with 
another  idea;  whether  it  were  exactly  the  veiy  thing  he  intended. 
It  was  of  complete  formation  in  his  understanding ;  it  had  its  including 
Ihie  and  limit,  instead  of  being  confused  with  something  else.  As  it 
was  once  happily  said  by  himself  of  Johnson,  "  he  shone  strongly  on 
the  angles  of  a  thought."  The  consequence  of  his  rigorous  habits  of 
thinking  thus  came  with  eminent  value  into  discourse  addressed  and 
intelligible  to  ordinary  good  sense,  where  there  was  no  obvious  inter- 
vention of  that  refined  speculation  which  was  nevertheless  contributmg, 
in  efiect,  so  nuich  to  the  clearness  and  strength  of  its  consistence. 


108  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

What  was  of  pliilosophic  quality  in  its  most  immediate  agency  became 
a  popular  excellence  in  its  result. 

But,  secondly,  besides  the  distinctness  and  precision  of  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  thought  in  detail,  that  exercise  of  abstract  speculation  had 
brought  him  into  possession  and  mastery  of  those  general  principles, 
in  virtue  of  which  these  particular  sentiments  must  have  their  authority. 
It  is  not  at  all  necessary  in  any  ordinary  course  of  instruction,  to  be 
continually  tracing  the  particular  back,  for  its  verification,  to  the  gene- 
ral; but  it  is  a  great  advantage  to  be  able  to  do  so  when  it  is  necessary, 
as  it  sometimes  will  be.  He  could  do  this ;  he  knew  from  what  original 
truths  could  be  deduced  the  varieties  of  sentiment  which  the  speaker 
utters  in  unqualified  assertion,  as  not  liable  to  be  questioned.  Any  of 
them,  not  self-evident,  he  could  have  abstracted  into  a  proximate  prin- 
ciple in  a  generalization,  and  that  again  resting  on  a  still  deeper  or 
ultimate  one.  He  had  seen  down  to  the  basis,  and  therefore  was  con- 
fident of  the  firmness  of  what  he  stood  upon ;  unlike  a  man  who  is 
treading  on  a  surface  which  he  perceives  or  suspects  to  be  hollow,  and 
is  ignorant  and  fearful  of  what  there  may  be  underneath.  Or,  to  change 
the  figure,  he  could  trace  the  minor  outermost  ramifications  of  truth 
do\\Tivvard  into  the  larger  stems,  and  those  larger  into  the  main  trunk 
and  the  root.  This  conscious  ability  of  the  preacher,  or  any  other  dis- 
courser,  to  sustain  upon  first  principles  what  he  is  advancing  with  the 
freedom  of  unhesitating  assertion  and  assumption,  will  impart  an  habitual 
assurance  of  safety  while  he  is  expatiating  thus  in  what  may  be  called 
the  outward,  free,  and  popular  exposition  of  his  subject. 

It  is  presumed  that  this  representation  of  the  use  he  made,  in  sermons, 
of  his  power  and  habits  of  abstract  speculation,  may  suffice  to  prevent 
a  notion,  in  the  minds  of  any  of  our  readers  who  may  seldom  or  never 
have  heard  him,  that  he  was  in  a  specific  sense  a  philosophical  or  meta- 
physical preacher.  He  did  often  indeed  (and  it  was  a  distinguishing- 
excellence  equally  of  his  talking,  preaching,  and  writing)  point  to  some 
general  principle,  and  briefly  and  plainly  show  how  it  authorized  an 
opinion.  Occasionally,  in  a  more  than  usually  argumentative  discourse, 
he  would  draw  out  a  more  extended  deduction.  He  would  also  cite  from 
tlie  doctrines  of  philosophy,  with  lucid  application,  some  law  of  the 
human  mind  (for  instance,  and  especially,  that  of  association).  But  still  it 
was  far  more  a  inrtual  than  a  formal  result  of  his  abstruser  studies  that 
pervaded  his  preaching. 

His  intimate  acquaintance  with  many  of  the  greatest  authors,  whom 
he  had  studied  with  a  sentiment  of  reverence,  and  whose  intellectual 
and  religious  wealth  was  largely  drawn  into  his  own  capacious  facul- 
ties, contributed  to  preclude  an  ostentation  of  originality.  His  sermons 
would  make,  on  cultivated  hearers,  a  general  impression  of  something 
new,  in  the  sense  of  being  very  different,  by  eminent  superiority,  from  any 
common  cliaractcr  of  preaching ;  but  the  novelty  would  appear  less  to 
consist  in  absolute  origination,  than  in  the  admirable  power  of  selection 
and  combination.  It  was  not  exhibited  in  a  frequency  of  singularly 
bold  prominent  inventions,  in  tlie  manner  of  the  new  mountains  and 
islands  sometimes  suddenly  throwm  up  on  tracts  of  the  globe  ;  but  rather 
in  that  whole  construction  of  the  performance  by  which  the  most 
appropriate  topics,  from  whatever  quarter,  were  brought  into  one  arra}'^, 
were  made  imposing  by  aggregation,  strong  by  unity  of  purpose,  and 
often  bright  by  felicitous  apposition ;  in  short,  were  so  plastically 
ordered  as  to  assume  much  of  the  character  of  a  creation.  It  is  probable 
that  if  his  studies  had  been  of  slighter  tenor,  if  his  reading  had  been 
less,  or  more  desultory,  if  his  faculties  liad  been  suffered  to  run  more 


AS  A  PREACHER.  109 

loose,  his  discourses  v/oiild  haA'e  more  abounded  with  ideas  starting  out, 
as  it  were  singly,  with  an  aspect  like  nothing  ever  seen  before.  His 
mental  ground'  was  cultivated  too  industriously  and  regularly  for  sub- 
stantial produce,  to  leave  room  for  those  often  beautiful  v/ild-flOAvers 
which  spring  spontaneously  in  a  fertile  half-wrought  soil.  His  avowed 
indifference  to  poetry  might  be  taken  as  one  indication  of  a  mind  more 
adapted  to  converse  with  the  substantialities  of  truth  than  to  raise 
phantoms  of  invention.  Perhaps  the  most  striking  feature  of  his  origin- 
ality was  seen  in  his  talent  (like  the  chymistry  which  brings  a  latent 
power  into  manifestation  and  action)  of  drawing  from  some  admitted 
principle  a  hitherto  uathought-of  inference,  which  affects  the  whole 
argument  of  a  question,  and  leads  to  a  conclusion  either  new  or  by  a 
new  road. 

While  he  availed  himself  in  his  sermons  of  the  powers  and  means  of 
reason,  he  constantly  referred,  I  believe  with  an  increased  explicitness 
in  the  more  advanced  periods  of  his  ministry,  to  Revelation  as  the 
supreme  and  final  authority.  No  preacher,  or  writer  on  subjects  of 
divinity,  was  ever  more  faithful  to  the  principle  that  all  doctrines  pro- 
fessing to  be  Christian  must,  both  in  their  statement  and  proof,  be 
founded  on  the  Scriptures,  whatever  further  light  or  corroboration  they 
may  admit  from  independent  reason,  or  from  matter  of  fact.  It  is 
understood  that  it  cost  him,  at  an  early  season  of  his  life,  a  great  effort, 
with  respect  to  some  particular  opinions,  to  subdue  his  speculative  dis- 
position to  such  an  uncompromising  submission  to  that  authority,  as  to 
renounce,  not  only  the  presumptions  which  place  themselves  in  contra- 
vention to  the  Scriptures,  but  all  the  expedients  of  a  forced  or  evasive 
interpretation  of  them.  But  the  submission  became  absolute  and  per- 
petual. And  in  this  spirit  he  maintained  through  life  so  assiduous  a 
practice  of  studying  the  Bible,  that  he  acquired  a  remarkable  facility 
for  citing  from  every  part  of  it,  in  the  course  of  his  preaching,  the 
passages  most  pertinent  for  evidence  or  enforcement  of  whatever  he 
was  advancing.  It  would  often  strike  the  hearers  that  probably  no 
texts  could  have  been  found  in  the  whole  book  more  exactly  to  the 
purpose.  Though  he  studied  the  Scriptures  critically,  he  was  sparing 
of  learned  criticism  in  the  pulpit ;  never  resorted  to  it  but  when  he 
saw  a  question  of  some  importance  involved  in  a  right  or  wrong  con- 
struction or  interpretation ;  and  then  with  the  greatest  possible  brevity. 
In  some  few  of  the  instances  he  might  seem  to  rest  too  much  of  the 
weight  of  an  argument  on  the  acceptation  of  a  single  insulated  expres- 
sion ;  for  he  was  not,  from  his  ability  to  bring  a  copious  induction  of 
texts  in  proof  of  a  doctrine,  the  less  tenacious  of  any  and  every  one 
which  he  thought  could  be  vindicated  for  an  assertion  or  implication  of 
it  by  a  correct  interpretation. 

In  his  choice  of  subjects,  a  prevailing  desire  to  do  good  directed  him 
most  frequently  to  those,  or  to  select  parts  andviewsof  those,  that  pre- 
sent themselves  as  of  chief  importance  on  the  common  field  of  Chris- 
tianity. When  he  took  what  appeared  an  insulated  subject,  of  a  peculiar 
and  perhaps  somewhat  curious  cast,  he  would  seldom  fail,  while  illus- 
trating it  in  a  manner  appropriate  to  itself,  to  bring  it  at  last,  and  by  an 
unforced  incidence,  to  coalesce  with  or  merge  in  some  grand  generality 
or  cardinal  doctrine  of  Christian  faith.  This  method  contributed  to 
maintain  a  consistency  in  the  doctrine  and  tendency  of  his  diversified 
ministrations. 

He  insisted  with  the  utmost  emphasis  on  the  principle  that  Chris- 
tianity, instead  of  being  merely  a  circumstantial  modification,  or  clearer 
exposition,  or  augmented  sanction,  or  supplementaradjunct  of  religion 


no  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

conceived  as  in  its  original  subsistence  in  the  relation  between  tlie  Cre- 
ator and  a  race  not  involvt-d  in  moral  evil,  is  an  absolutely  distinct  and 
peculiar  economy,  appointed  for  a  race  that  is  in  that  disastrous  con- 
dition, and  constituted  upon  the  essentially  altered  relation,  the  relation 
between  man  as  a  depraved  guilty  being  and  his  Maker.  In  his  judg- 
ment any  theory  which  does  not  acknowledge  Christianity  in  this  express 
character  positively  rejects  it  ;  with  the  guilt,  to  him  who  dares  this 
rejection,  of  insulting  the  Almighty,  and  the  calamity  of  being  self- 
doomed  to  meet  the  righteous  Judge  on  an  interdicted  ground,  a  fatal 
ground,  therefore,  where  justice  will  be  apart  from  mercy.  From  his 
conviction  of  the  importance  of  this  principle  of  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Christian  economy,  he  brought  continually  in  view  the  doctrines  which 
constitute  its  peculiarity.  The  scheme  of  mediation ;  the  INIediator's 
character,  in  the  various  views  and  lights  in  whicli  it  can  be  displayed, 
of  dignity  and  humiliation,  of  majesty  and  benignity ;  his  vicarious 
sacrilice  for  the  atonement  of  sin  ;  were  the  subjects  of  his  very  marked 
and  habitual  preference.  On  the  last  of  them  he  enlarged  in  such  extent 
and  frequency,  that,  with  tlie  same  perfect  conviction  as  himself  of 
its  vital  and  transcendent  importance,  I  sometimes  thought  there  was 
hardly  a  due  proportion  yielded  to  the  correlative  subjects — to  that 
extent  and  peremptoriness  of  the  requirements  of  the  Divine  law,  that 
condition  of  the  human  nature,  that  actual  existence  and  stupendous 
amount  of  guilt,  which  are  the  cause  that  there  is  a  necessity  for  an 
atonement. 

His  practice,  just  noticed,  of  prosecuting  the  discussion  of  particular 
subjects,  while  in  a  manner  strictly  appropriate  to  each  as  a  separate 
theme,  yet  also  with  a  bearing  towards  an  ultimate  combination  with 
some  essential  principle  of  Christianity,  conduced  to  keep  almost  con- 
stantly in  view  the  evangelical  principles,  those  which  are  peculiarly 
characteristic  of  the  mediatorial  economy ;  for  these  were  very  com- 
monly the  points  to  which  the  various  courses  of  thought  running 
through  his  different  sermons  were  made  to  tend,  and  where  they  fell  in 
confluence. 

His  system  of  theological  tenets  {creed  is  an  ill-favoured  term)  was 
strictly  orthodox,  on  the  model  of  what  has  come  to  be  denominated 
moderate  Calvinism.  With  the  other  conspicuous  points,  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity,*  the  divinity  of  Christ,  the  atonement,  and  justification 
by  faith  alone,  he  held  the  more  distinctively  Calvinistic  doctrine  of 
predestination ;  thougli  I  cannot  answer  for  the  precise  terms  in  which 
he  would  have  stated  it ;  but  1  presume  he  would  have  accepted  those 
employed  in  the  Articles  of  the  Church  of  England.  In  preaching  he 
very  rarely  made  any  express  reference  to  that  doctrine  ;  and  his  recog- 
nition of  it  by  implication  was  too  indistinct  for  toleration  from  the 
rigidly  Calvinistic  hearers  of  any  preacher  not  privileged  by  talents  and 
public  favour  to  bear  down  all  censorial  pretensions. 

Under  our  total  ignorance  of  Divine  decrees,  our  ignorance  of  all  but 
the  general  purpose  of  the  Almighty  in  the  promulgation  of  the  gospel, 
he  considered  that  men  are  to  be  addressed  as  rational  beings,  on  subjects 
of  which,  unless  tliey  will  practically  renounce  that  property  of  their 
nature,  they  must  apprehend  tiie  vast  importance ;  subjects  which,  as 
well  as  appealing  to  tlieir  coolest  reason,  ought  to  be  of  mighty  force 
to  press  on  the  conscience  and  the  passions  ;  to  which  it  were,  conse- 

*  An  excepiion  is  to  be  made  in  thiB  article  for  an  opinion  at  one  time  lield  by  tiim,  and  in  one  of 
)ii8  letters,  I  lliink,  nnincd  by  him  Dualism,  but  surrcndiired  long  before  tlie  decline  of  his  life.  That 
opinion  was,  iliiil  the  Holy  Spirit  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  divine  energy,  or  agency,  instead  of  a  per- 
sonal subsistence. 


AS  A  PREACHER.  lU 

quently,  the  last  absurdity  to  decline  summoning  that  reason,  and 
arousing  those  passions.  He  was  therefore  exempt  from  all  those 
restrictions,  in  respect  to  the  mode  of  presenting  and  urging  the  over- 
tures of  redemption,  which  have  been  imposed  on  some  good  men  of  the 
Calvinistic  faith  by  a  concern  for  systematic  consistency.  He  took  the 
utmost  liberty  in  his  strain  of  inculcation;  exhorting,  inviting,  entreating, 
expostulating,  remonstrating ;  in  language  of  nearly  the  same  tenor  as 
that  which  might  be  employed  by  an  Arminian  preacher;  with  the 
exception,  of  course,  of  that  notion  of  free-will,  which  recurs  with  such 
laborious  iteration  in  the  preaching  of  that  order,  and  which  was  excluded 
from  his  faith  equally  by  theological  and  philosophical  reasons.  This 
non-advertence  in  his  sermons  to  the  Calvinistic  tenet  was  not  from 
any  secret  consciousness  that  the  belief  of  it  is  essentially  incongruous 
with  his  free  strain  of  inculcation ;  it  was  not  that  he  might  enjoy  a 
license  for  inconsistency,  through  the  device  of  keeping  one  of  two 
incompatible  things  out  of  sight ;  but  he  judged  that  neither  the  doctrine 
itself,  nor  the  process  of  reasoning  to  prove  tlie  belief  of  it,  consistent 
Avith  the  most  unrestricted  language  of  exhortation,  could  be  made  a 
profitable  part  of  popular  instruction.  He  deemed  it  authority  enough 
for  his  practice,  independently  of  all  abstracted  reasoning  on  the  subject, 
that  he  had  the  example  of  the  divinely  inspired  preachers  urging  the 
demands  of  the  gospel  on  the  unbelievers  and  the  wicked,  in  the  most 
unmeasured  terms  of  exhortation,  the  predestinating  decrees  of  Heaven 
set  out  of  the  question  ;  and  that  in  modern  experience  it  is  a  notorious 
fact,  that  those  preachers  of  the  Calvinistic  school  (for  one  memorable 
example,  Whitfield)  who  have  nevertheless  availed  themselves  of  this 
freedom  to  the  utmost  extent,  have  been  incomparably  more  successful 
in  eilecting  the  great  object  of  preaching,  than  those  who  have,  some- 
what presumptuously,  charged  themselves  with  so  much  responsibility 
respecting  the  unknown  determination  of  the  Almighty,  that  they  must 
not  call  men  to  faith  and  repentance  lest  they  should  contravene  his 
sovereign  purposes. 

Perhaps  it  would  not  have  been  expected  from  Mr.  Hall's  great 
capacity,  that  he  should  be  habitually  indisposed  to  dwell  or  expatiate 
long  near  the  borders  of  the  remoter,  darker  tracts  of  the  regions  of 
religious  contemplation.  Such,  however,  appears  to  have  been  the 
fact.  If  the  cause  were  inquired,  undoubtedly  one  thing  that  withheld 
or  withdrew  him  was,  a  consideration  of  usefulness,  a  preference  for 
what  was  most  adapted  to  be  beneficial  to  his  own  religious  discipline 
and  to  the  best  interests  of  others.  He  was  amply  informed  and  warned, 
by  his  knowledge  of  the  history  of  philosophy  and  theology,  of  the 
mischiefs  of  a  restless,  presumptuous,  interminable  speculation,  a  pro- 
jection of  thought,  beyond  the  limits  of  ascertainable  truth.  But  there 
was  a  cause  more  radical  in  his  mental  constitution.  That  constitution 
was  not  predominantly  either  imaginative  or  contemplative  ;  it  was 
intellectual,  in  the  strictest  sense ;  in  the  (perhaps  arbitrary)  sense  that 
the  matter  of  his  speculations  must  be  what  he  could  distinctly  under- 
stand, what  he  could  survey  in  such  form  and  order  as  to  admit  of  propo- 
sitions and  reasons;  so  that  the  speculative  process  lost  its  interest 
with  him  if  carried  into  a  direction,  or  if  exceeding  the  limit,  where  it 
could  no  longer  be  subjected  to  the  methods  of  proof;  in  other  words, 
where  it  ceased  to  comprehend  and  reason,  and  turned  into  conjecture, 
sentiment,  and  fancy.  He  seemed  to  have  no  ambition  to  stretch  out 
his  intellectual  domain  to  an  extent  which  he  could  not  occupy  and 
traverse  with  some  certainty  of  his  movements  and  measurements. 
His  sphere  was  very  Avide,  expanded  to  one  circle  beyond  another,  at 


112  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

each  of  which  in  succession  he  left  many  other  men  behind  hira,  arrested 
by  their  respective  hmits  ;  but  he  was  wilhng  to  perceive,  and  even 
desirous  to  verify,  his  own  ultimate  boundary  ;  and  when  he  came  to  the 
line  where  it  was  signified  to  him,  "  Thus  far,  and  no  farther,"  he  stopped, 
with  apparently  much  less  of  an  impulse  than  might  have  been  expected 
in  so  strong  a  spirit,  to  seek  an  outlet,  and  attempt  an  irruption  into  the 
dubious  territory  beyond. 

With  a  mind  so  constituted  and  governed,  he  was  less  given  than 
many  other  men  of  genius  have  been  to  those  visionary  modes  of 
thought ;  those  musings  exempt  from  all  regulation ;  that  impatience 
of  aspiration  to  reach  the  vast  and  remote  ;  that  fascination  of  the  mys- 
terious, captivating  by  the  very  circumstance  of  eluding ;  that  fearful 
adventuring  on  the  dark,  the  unknown,  the  awful ;  "  those  thoughts  that 
wander  through  eternity,"  which  have  often  been  at  once  ihe  luxury 
and  the  pain  of  imaginative  and  highly  endowed  spirits,  discontented 
with  their  assigned  lot  in  this  tenebrious  world.  No  doubt,  in  his  case, 
piety  would  have  interfered  to  restrain  such  impatience  of  curiosity, 
or  audacity  of  ambitious  thinking,  or  indignant  strife  against  the  con- 
fines of  our  present  allotment,  as  would  have  risen  to  a  spirit  of  insub- 
ordination to  the  Divine  appointment.  And  possibly  there  were  times 
when  this  interference  was  required ;  but  still  the  structure  of  his  facul- 
ties, and  the  manner  of  employing  them  to  which  it  determined  him,  con- 
tributed much  to  exempt  him  from  that  passion  to  go  beyond  the  mortal 
sphere  which  would  irreligiously  murmur  at  the  limitation.  His  acqui- 
escence did  not  seem  at  least  to  cost  him  a  strong  effort  of  repression. 

This  distinction  of  his  intellectual  character  was  obvious  in  his 
preaching.  He  was  eminently  successful  on  subjects  of  an  elevated 
order,  which  he  would  expand  and  illustrate  in  a  manner  which  sus- 
tained them  to  the  high  level  of  their  dignity.  This  carried  him  near 
some  point  of  the  border  of  that  awful  darkness  which  encompasses,  on 
all  sides,  our  little  glimmering  field  of  knowledge;  and  then  it  might  be 
seen  how  aware  he  was  of  his  approach,  how  cautiously,  or  shall  I  say 
instinctively,  he  was  held  aloof,  how  sure  not  to  abandon  tlie  ground  of 
evidence,  by  a  hazardous  incursion  of  conjecture  or  imagination  into 
the  unknoAvn.  He  would  indicate  how  near,  and  in  what  direction,  lay 
the  shaded  frontier ;  but  dared  not,  did  not  seem  even  tempted,  to 
invade  its  "  majesty  of  darkness." 

This  procedure,  in  whatever  proportion  owing  tx)  his  intellectual  tem- 
perament or  to  the  ascendency  of  religion,  will  be  pronounced  wise  for  a 
general  practice.  If,  however,  he  could  have  allowed  himself  in  some 
degree  of  exception,  it  \vould  have  been  gratifying  to  a  portion  of  his 
hearers.  There  are  certain  mysterious  phenomena  in  the  moral 
economy  of  our  world,  which  compel,  and  will  not  release,  the  atten- 
tion of  a  thoughtful  mind,  especially  if  of  a  gloomy  constitutional 
tendency.  Wherever  it  turns,  it  still  encounters  their  portentous 
aspect ;  often  feels  arrested  and  fixed  by  them  as  under  some  potent 
spell ;  making  an  effort,  still  renewed  and  still  unavailing,  to  escape  from 
the  appalhng  presence  of  the  vision.  Now  it  was  conceived,  that  a 
strenuous  deliberate  exertion  of  a  power  of  thought  like  liis,  after  he 
had  been  so  deeply  conversant  with  important  and  difficult  speculations, 
might  perhaps  have  contributed  something  to  alleviate  this  oppression. 
Not,  of  course,  that  it  should  be  dreamed  that  his,  or  any  still  stronger 
human  intelligence,  should  be  able  to  peneti-ate  with  light  llie  black 
clouds  which  oversliadow  our  system.  But  it  was  imagined  possible 
for  such  force  of  reason  to  iinpart  somewhat  of  an  extenuating  quality 
to  the  medium  tlirough  which  they  are  beheld,  and  through  which  they 


AS  A  PREACHER.  113 

might  then  be  beheld  with  a  less  painful  and  total  prostration  of  spirit. 
It  might  have  been  an  invaluable  service,  it  was  thought,  if  his  whole 
Btrength  and  resources  had  been  applied  to  display  comprehensively  the 
nature,  the  extent,  the  solidity  of  the  ground  on  which  faith  may  rest 
with  a  firm  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  the  sovereign  Governor,  not- 
withstanding all  the  strange  and  awful  phenomena  of  our  economy.* 

This  disinclination  to  adventure  into  tlie  twilight  of  speculation  was 
shown  in  respect  to  subjects  of  less  formidable  mystery,  of  solemn 
indeed,  but  rather  attractive  than  overawing  character.  For  instance, 
the  mode,  the  condition  of  that  conscious  existence  after  death,  of 
which,  as  a  fact,  he  was  so  zealous  an  assertor  against  the  dreary 
dogma  which  consigns  the  soul  to  insensibility  in  the  separate  state :  if 
indeed  it  be  any  existent  state  of  an  intelligence  when  all  we  know  of 
its  attributes  is  abolished.  It  would  have  been  gratifying,  and  might 
have  been  beneficial  for  serious  impression,  to  see  some  gleams  of  his 
vigorous  thought  thrown  upon  the  border  of  that  scene  of  our  destiny, 
so  obscure,  but  at  the  same  time  so  near,  and  of  transcendent  interest; 
to  see  the  reserved  and  scattered  intimations  of  the  sacred  oracles 
brought  into  combination,  and  attempted  to  be  reduced  to  something 
approaching  to  the  form  of  a  theory  ;  to  see  how  far  any  conjectural 
imaginations  could  be  accompanied  by  reasons  from  analogy,  and  any 
other  principle  of  probability ;  with  a  citation,  perhaps,  of  certain  of 
the  least  arbitrary  and  fanciful  of  the  visions  of  other  inquisitive  specu- 
lators, commented  on  as  he  would  have  commented.  But  he  did  not 
appear  to  partake  of  the  intense  curiosity  with  which  the  inquiries  and 
poetical  musings  of  some  pious  men  have  been  carriedinto  the  subject. 
He  seemed,  beyond  what  might  have  been  expected  in  relation  to  a 
matter  which  lies  across  the  whole  breadth  of  our  prospect,  and  so 
closely  at  hand,  content  to  let  it  remain,  a  terra  incognita  till  the  hour 
that  puts  an  end  to  conjecture.  It  will  be  understood  that  this  i8 
mentioned,  not  with  any  meaning  of  animadversion,  but  as  exemplify- 
ing that  peculiarity  of  his  mental  character  by  which  he  appeared  dis- 
inclined to  pursue  any  inquiries  beyond  the  point  where  substantial 
evidence  fails.  The  regret  of  some  of  his  hearers  was,  that  he  should 
not  oftener  be  willing  to  exert  his  whole  strength  to  try  whether  that 
point  be  really  fixed  where  it  appears  and  is  assumed  to  be.  They 
would  have  been  gratified  to  see  him  undertaking  sometimes  the  dis- 
cussion of  subjects  which  they  would  have  deprecated  any  attempt 
upon  by  men  of  ordinary  ability.  While  so  superior  a  mental  engine,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  was  in  their  hands,  they  wished  they 
could  make  the  most  of  its  powers. 

I  have  defeiTcd  to  the  last  some  additional  observations,  which  I 
shall  attempt  with  considerable  difliculty,  partly  from  a  doubt  whether 
I  may  be  able  to  render  them  plainly  intelligible ;  and  partly  from 
apprehension  that  they  may  not  please  some  of  those  who  most 
admired  Mr.  Hall,  of  whose  talents,  however,  no  man's  admiration  was 
higher  than  mine. 

The  general  purport  of  what  I  would  say  is  this, — that  -while  his 
preaching  was  superlatively  excellent  in  many  of  its  qualities,  it  was 
not,  from  a  defect  in  certain  important  ones,  the  best  adapted  for  salu- 
tary efficacy.     A  short  indication  of  what  I  would  allege  would  be,  that 

*  It  may  be  mentioned,  in  lurtlier  explanation  of  the  indisposition  noted  above,  that  in  spite  of  the 
long  and  often  severe  persecution  of  bodily  pain,  liis  temperaineiit  was  clieerfiil  and  buoyant.  Me 
had  a  remarkable  facility  of  finding;  or  making  sources  and  occasions  of  pleasurable  feeling,  and 
averting  his  mind  from  gloomy  subjects;  insomuch  that  he  ajjpeared  to  be,  even  on  the  mere 
strength  of  tins  temperament,  iimch  less  subject  than  mi^jhl  have  been  expected  of  so  enlarged  a 
capaciiy  of  thought,  to  be  invaded  by  ihe  dark  and  fearful  lorms  which  those  subjects  can  assuiin:. 

Vol.  ni.— 8 


114  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

it  was  too  general  and  theoretic  ;  that  it  presented  things  too  much  in 
unbroken  breadth  and  mass ;  that  it  was  apt  to  exceed,  in  the  most 
eloquent  parts,  the  allowed  license  of  exaggeration;  that  it  was  not 
kept  in  due  relation  to  the  realities  of  life ;  that  while  it  was  most 
excellent  in  the  discrimination  of  topics,  sentiments,  arguments,  it  did 
not  discriminate  and  individualize  human  characters;  that  therefore  it 
did  not  maintain  an  intimate  commerce  with  the  actual  condition  of  the 
hearers. 

It  were  superfluous  to  repeat  how  pre-eminently  he  displayed,  in  the 
perspicuous  and  convincing  statement,  development,  and  confirmation 
of  truth,  the  primary  excellence  of  preaching,  as  it  is  of  all  instruction ; 
or  how  earnestly  the  practical  interest  of  the  doctrine  was  often 
enforced  towards  the  conclusion  of  his  sermons.  The  defect,  which, 
nevertheless,  I  am  wishing  to  mark  as  not  excluded  by  such  rare  merit, 
was,  that  (as  a  general  fact,  and  with  exceptions)  his  preaching  did  not 
bring  and  keep  the  people  under  a  closely  disciplinary  process.  It 
allowed  them  too  much  of  the  privilege  of  the  spectators  of  a  fine  and 
well-ordered  series  of  representation,  of  such  a  nature,  that  they  can 
look  on  at  ease  from  any  similar  disturbance  to  that  of  the  king  in 
Hamlet,  at  sight  of  the  acted  garden-scene. 

A  consideration  of  the  whole  design  of  preaching  might  suggest 
something  approaching  to  a  model  of  what  would  seem  the  most  prob- 
ably calculated  to  attain  its  several  ends,  in  combination  to  one  grand 
purpose.  We  may  regard  tlie  preacher  as  holding  a  kind  of  compre- 
hensive jurisdiction  over  the  spiritual  and  moral  condition  of  the  con- 
gregation, who  are  a  mingled  assemblage  of  all  varieties  of  that  con- 
dition. Should  not,  then,  the  best  mode  of  ministration,  for  beneficial 
effect,  be  that  which  applies  itself  to  this  condition,  not  only  either 
generally  in  the  mass,  or  as  viewed  in  the  two  divisions  of  religious  and 
irreligious,  but  also  with  a  special  recognition  of  those  varieties  I 

I  need  not  here  say  so  self-evident  a  thing  as  that  the  generalities  of 
religion  should  be  often  presented ;  that  the  Christian  doctrines  should 
be  stated  and  illustrated ;  that,  in  a  word,  the  theory  of  Christianity,  as 
a  whole,  and  in  its  principal  branches,  should  be  kept  conspicuous  in 
the  people's  view.  But  while  justice  is  done  to  the  subjects  of  general 
consideration  in  religion,  what  a  large  account  there  is  of  more  par- 
ticular matters,  on  which,  and  on  each  of  which,  it  is  most  important  to 
call  men's  reason  and  conscience  into  exercise.  There  are  the  various 
causes,  distinguishable  and  assignable  ones,  which  frustrate  the  exhi- 
bition of  religious  truth,  and  may  be  so  commented  on  as  to  show  how 
they  frustrate  it.  There  is  the  sad  catalogue  of  the  perversities  and 
deceits  of  the  heart ;  there  are  the  distortions  and  presumptions  of 
prejudice  ;  the  principles  which,  in  disguised  form  perhaps,  and  afraid 
of  audacious  avowal,  but  of  malignant  essence,  react  against  the  Divine 
authority ;  the  subterfuges  of  insincerity ;  the  various  ways  in  which 
men  evade  conviction,  falsify  in  effect  the  truth  to  which  they  assent 
in  terms,  or  delude  themselves  in  their  estimates  of  their  own  spirit  and 
conduct.  There  is  the  estrangement  from  reflection,  the  extreme 
reluctance  to  honest  self-examination.  There  is  also,  in  the  majority 
of  any  large  congregation,  many  of  those  who  make  a  direct  profes- 
sion of  personal  religion  not  excepted,  an  indistinct  apprehension,  and 
a  lax  application,  of  the  principles  and  rules  of  Christian  morality. 
These  last,  together  with  the  state  of  men's  notions  and  habits  in  rela- 
tion to  them,  are  within  the  province  of  the  rehgious  instructer ;  unless 
the  universally,  cogentlj^  and  even  minutely  preceptive  character  of 
revelation  be  a  grand  impertinence. 


AiS  A  PREACHER.  II5 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  thing^s  like  these  should  occupy 
a  large  space  in  the  ministration.  They  claim  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  the  preacher's  best  exertion,  to  show  what  they  are,  by  illustrations 
verified  upon  the  actual  state  of  human  beings,  and  how  they  interfere 
with  religion  in  all  its  doctrines  and  applications.  There  is  not  one  of 
those  here  noted  (and  many  more  might  be  specified)  that  would  not 
be,  apart,  a  matter  of  the  most  useful  discussion  for  the  longest  sermon. 
And  if  this  be  true,  the  majority  of  the  evangehcal  teachers  of  our 
congregations  seem  very  far  from  being  aware  (in  respect  especially  to 
what  belongs  to  the  moral  department  of  the  great  Christian  school) 
of  the  extent  of  either  the  resources  or  the  duties  of  their  office. 

But  besides  the  propriety  of  discoursing  on  such  things  formally  and 
at  large,  there  is  a  valuable  use  to  be  made  of  them  in  a  secondary  and 
more  incidental  way,  by  adverting  to  them,  any  of  them,  as  the  case 
may  require,  in  short  and  pointed  reference,  when  any  lesson  of  the 
religious  discipline  can  by  means  of  them  be  more  strongly  fastened 
on  men's  minds  ;  on  minds  which  will  play  loose  from  its  hold  if  such 
expedients  be  not  employed  to  strike  and  grasp  them.  Through  what- 
ever subject  (except  the  most  exclusively  speculative)  the  Christian 
instructer  can  direct  his  course,  considerations  relating  to  such  matters 
are,  some  or  other  of  them,  near  at  hand,  to  admonish  him  of  some- 
thing which,  if  he  do  not  take  account  of  it,  will  keep  him  off  from 
obtaining  possession  of  the  inner  man.  And  therefore  it  would  be  well 
that,  instead  of  passing  by  these  considerations  unnoticed,  and  prose- 
cuting with  exclusive  attention  the  pure  rationale  of  his  subject,  he 
should  admit  them  to  interfere  with  his  progress,  should  implicate  such 
of  them  as  come  most  immediately  on  his  track  with  the  train  of  his 
observations  ;  sometimes  with  a  short  interruption  and  suspension  of 
that  train,  in  order  to  take  in  and  insist  on  an  accessory  consideration 
which  may  turn  the  subject  with  a  more  special  pointedness  on  the 
hearers  than  would  be  done  by  its  strictly  regular  prosecution.  He 
might  thus,  without  losing  sight  of  the  general  objects  of  his  discourse, 
give  it  a  particularity,  a  pressure  at  critical  points,  a  distinctness  of 
arrest  on  the  attention  and  conscience. 

Now  Mr.  Hall  had,  both  by  the  cast  of  his  mind  and  his  addiction  to 
prolonged  specidative  studies,  an  inaptitude  to  such  a  manner  of  preach- 
ing. His  subject  took  the  form  of  an  intellectual  theme,  homogeneous, 
continuous,  and  nowhere  allowing  a  diversion  from  its  order,  or  a 
breaking  up  among  its  topics  to  turn  any  of  them  for  a  few  moments 
to  a  peculiar  and  insulated  use  ;  or  admitting  the  intervention  of  any 
thing  which  would  bring  the  progress  to  a  stand.  The  channel  of  his 
thoughts  was  so  straight  on,  and  the  current  so  full  and  rapid,  that 
there  could  be  no  refluxes  and  eddies.  He  entered  on  his  subject  with 
a  clear  prospect  over  it  to  the  end  ;  the  interest,  to  himself,  of  his 
movement  in  prosecution  of  it,  was  in  throwing  his  mind  still  forward 
on  the  next  succeeding  part,  with  a  propulsion  augmented  by  each  as 
he  passed  through  it ;  and  he  would  have  been  impatient  of  any  thing 
that  should  check  or  turn  aside  his  career.  He  could  not  remit  and 
draw  in,  to  stay  awhile,  so  to  speak,  with  some  one  important  obser- 
vation, to  give  it  individually  an  aggravated  stress,  to  kindle  it  into  an 
intense  light,  deliberately  held  close  to  the  minds  before  him,  pene- 
trating to  the  recesses  as  a  trial  of  the  spirit,  revealing  unsuspected, 
or  but  slightly  suspected,  quahties  in  the  feelings,  the  motives,  the 
habits;  and  indicating  unthought-of  relations  between  these  and  the 
principles  of  Christianity,  the  rules  of  duty,  or  the  conditions  of  safety. 
Still  pressing  vigorously  onwa:rd,  he  could  not  malce  a  pause  to  revert 


116  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

unexpectedly  on  what  he  had  just  said  ;  and  by  an  appeal  to  the  hearers 
for  its  truth,  or  by  a  brief  strong  inference  from  it,  render  it  more  im- 
pressive than  it  could  be  as  hastily  passing  away.  He  could  not  abate 
his  movement  so  as  to  address  them  with  a  pointed  interrogation, 
solemn  or  familiar,  in  a  manner  as  if  waiting  for  a  reply  ;  thus  breaking 
in  upon  any  tendency  there  might  be  to  their  yielding  themselves  to  be 
carried  along  in  a  pleasing  revery  of  admiration  and  vague  assent ; 
drawing  them  into  something  like  a  mental  dialogue  with  him  on  the 
point,  and  awaking  them  to  retlect  whether  they  should  make,  or  were 
making,  any  application  of  it  to  themselves.  That  extraordinary 
degree  of  withdrawment  from  recognition  of  the  local  scene,  when  his 
mind  was  in  its  full  race,  which  has  been  noticed  before  rather  as  a  cir- 
cumstance of  manner  than  as  affecting  the  character  of  his  preaching, 
contributed  much  to  what  is  here  attempted  to  be  described.  He  did 
feel,  I  repeat,  a  benevolent  interest  for  the  congregation,  as  a  general 
sentiment,  and  at  times  it  would  manifest  itself  expressly  and  even 
pathetically ;  but  I  still  deem  it  a  fact,  that  during  a  large  proportion  of 
his  public  exercise,  and  especially  in  the  seasons  of  highest  excite- 
ment, the  subject  itself,  as  a  subject,  was  the  grand  interest.  It  was  by 
that  that  he  was  filled,  possessed,  and  borne  along,  with  no  more  than  a 
very  general  consciousness  of  being  in  communication  with  an  audi- 
tory. The  train  of  his  tlioughts,  therefore,  swept  on  at  a  certain  alti- 
tude, as  it  were,  in  the  air,  rather  than  proceeded  on  a  level  and  in  con- 
tact with  the  people,  in  a  series  of  arresting  inculcations  and  inquisitions. 
I  have  said  that  he  did  not  mdividualize  liiuuan  characters.  While  he 
had  a  deep  insight  into  the  structure  of  human  nature  as  a  species,  his 
preaching  would  sometimes  have  suggested  the  remark  that  was  made 
on  a  certain  philosopher,  that  he  understood  man,  but  not  me?i" — I  say, 
his  preaching ;  for  a  difierent  apprehension  was  received  from  his  con- 
versation. He  had  been  acquanited  less  or  more  with  a  very  extensive 
variety  of  persons,  including  most  of  the  differences  seen  in  society ; 
had  a  remarkably  exact  remembrance  of  them ;  and  showed,  by  his 
characteristic  descriptions  and  anecdotes,  that  he  was  not  a  superficial, 
though  he  was  not  a  studiously  intentional,  observer.  At  all  times  he 
was  interested  by  facts,  witnessed  or  related,  which  exemplified  a  lead- 
ing property,  or  a  peculiar  modification,  of  this  strange  nature  of  ours. 
It  was  therefore  a  cause  of  wonder,  notwithstanding  all  that  was  so 
apparent  of  his  habits  of  abstraction  and  generalization,  that  so  many 
forms  of  the  good  and  evil  of  humanity,  accumulated  within  tlie  ample 
magazine  of  his  materials,  should  not  be  brought  into  service,  divested, 
of  course,  of  the  peculiBrities  that  would  betray  individual  portraiture,  and 
a  little  idealized  into  representatives  of  classes,  but  still  of  such  genuine 
living  features,  that  the  people  might  recognise  them  as  things  in  actual 
existence.  Forms  of  character  thus  discriminately  shaped  from  matter 
of  fact  would  stand  forth  exposing  wluit  human  nature  is,  not  merely 
as  n  general  subject  for  religious  and  moral  treatment,  but  also  in  those 
special  modifications  to  which  the  discipline  should  be  applied.  It  nuiy 
then  be  applied  with  a  peculiar  and,  in  the  hands  of  an  able  man,  a 
striking  ai)propriateness ;  it  will  be  seen  .to  be  fitted  to  the  part ;  and 
there  can  be  no  question  whether  its  force  and  probable  efficacy  will 
be  much  in  proportion  to  this  evidently  specific  pertinence.  By  this 
practice  he  who  is  desirous  that  truth  may  strike  stands  much  nearer 
to  his  mark,  leaving  less  room  for  the  shaft  to  pass  harmlessly  by  in  a 
slanting  direction,  than  if  he  took  a  general  aim  from  a  distance.  Let 
the  blended  mass  of  liiiman  character  be  thus  resolved  into  classes,  not 
so  small  certainly  that  the  address,  in  order  to  be  appropriate  to  each, 


AS  A  PREACHER. 


117 


must  be  frittered  into  minute  and  almost  trifling  particulars,  yet  so  cir- 
cumscribed that  it  may  bear  on  each  in  one  definite  manner,  and  many 
persons  will  be  made  to  find  their  own  place,  and  find  themselves 
brought  to  account,  who  would  remain  quite  at  their  ease  under  a  theo- 
retic generality  in  the  administration  of  the  religious  and  moral  juris- 
diction ;  who  might  even  approve  and  applaud  the  very  lecture  by  which 
they  were  arraigned  and  condemned,  in  perfect  impunity  from  any 
whisper  of  the  admonition,  "  Thou  art  the  man."  It  was  to  be  regretted 
that  the  singularly  compact  conformation,  and  the  speculative  and 
abstract  propensity,  of  Mr.  Hall's  mind,  should  so  much  have  precluded 
his  great  talents  and  excellent  purpose  from  this  resource  for  augment- 
ing the  eflicacy  of  preaching.  It  might  be  anticipated  from  the  nature 
of  the  case,  and  it  was  verified  by  observation,  that  too  many  of  the 
attendants  witnessed  some  of  the  brightest  displays  rather  with  the 
feeling  of  looking  at  a  fine  picture  than  of  being  confronted  by  a  faith- 
ful mirror ;  and  went  away  equally  pleased  with  a  preacher  that  was  so 
admirable,  and  with  themselves  for  having  the  intelligence  and  taste  to 
admire  hini.*^ 

There  was  cause  for  observation  on  his  manner  of  placing  in  con- 
trast the  two  great  divisions,  the  righteous  and  the  wicked,  Christians 
and  men  of  the  world.  There  should  be  some  essential  test  of  the 
difference ;  but  then  what  to  do  with  all  those  appearances  among  the 
professedly  better  class,  which  betray  so  much  likeness,  after  all,  to 
the  worse  ?  Nothing  can  be  more  perplexing  to  a  thoughtful  beholder 
of  men  as  they  are,  who,  in  disregard  of  all  system,  must  take  these 
signs  for  what  they  plainly  import ;  and  what  they  plainly  import  is, 
that  whatever  be  the  essentially  distinguishing  principle  of  the  separa- 
tion, there  are,  in  numbers,  wliom  he  may  not  in  a  judgment  of  charity 
pronounce  to  be  no  Christians,  many  grievous  and  habitual  approxima- 
tions to  those  who  confessedly  are  none.  At  times,  the  whole  subject 
will  almost  assume,  under  his  view,  the  appearance  of  an  affair  of  gra- 
(iafion,  from  the  maximum  on  one  side,  and  the  minimum  on  the  other, 
divided  by  no  wide  interval  at  the  point  of  approach.  If  he  be  a  public 
teacher  of  religion,  and  in  that  capacity  under  a  solemn  responsibility 
.  for  the  estimates  to  be  entertained  of  the  Christian  character,  and  of 
themselves,  by  his  hearers,  he  will  have  a  severe  exercise  for  his  cau- 
tion and  discrimination.  He  may  overlook,  if  he  will,  the  unhappy 
mixture  and  competition  of  evil  with  the  good  in  the  better  division  of 
actual  human  characters  ;  and  indulge  himself  in  the  pleasure  of  con- 

*  A  little  circumstance,  told  me  a  day  or  two  after  his  last  sermon,  which  was  considered  of  signal 
intellectual  power,  and  which  I  have  always  regretted  that  I  was  prevented  hearing,  may  not 
improperly  be  mentioned  as  somewhat  in  point  to  what  is  atteinpted  in  these  paragraphs.  The 
subject  was  the  sin  and  absurdity  of  covetousness.  After  the  service,  one  of  the  hearers  observed 
to  another,  "  An  admirable  sermon — yet  why  was  suck  a  sermon  preached  ?  For  probably  not 
one  person  in  the  congregation,  though  it  is  not  wanting  in  examples  of  the  vice  in  question,  would 
take  the  discourse  as  at  all  applicable  to  himself."— The  preacher  had  employed  his  whole  force 
on  the  love  of  money  as  a  pure  and  absohite  principle.  The  person  who  made  the  remark  meant 
to  say,  that  hardly  any  one  will  acknowledge  to  be,  or  indeed  is  conscious  of  being,  actuated  by  this 
pure  absolute  prmciple,  however  tenacious  of  his  money,  or  insatiably  grasping  at  more.  No ;  the 
passion  enslaves  and  befools  him  under  secondary  and  more  plausible  Ibrms.  He  wishes  to  have  the 
means  of  setting  his  faiuily  advantageously  forward  in  the  world  ;  he  says  so,  and  thinks  so,  even 
though  possibly  unwilling  to  do  any  thmg  for  them  as  yet.  It  is  desirable  to  have  the  means  of 
maintaining  a  respectable  station  in  society.  U  is  gratifying  to  be  looked  up  to  with  the  deference 
universally  shown  to  wealth.  Perhaps  the  man  has  had  e,\perience  of  straitened  circumstances  in 
early  life,  and  cannot  make  too  sure  against  its  recurrence.  There  is  much  liability  to  hazard  and 
losses,  and  it  is  prudent  to  be  well  provided.  It  would  be  a  miserable  thing  to  suffer  penury  in  old 
age.— Now,  an  invective  against  the  love  of  money,  to  be  practically  useful,  would  seize  and  expose 
it  in  those  modes  of  its  operation  under  which  it  hides  or  palliates  its  true  quality,  and  besuiles  out 
of  all  self-suspicion  the  most  desperate  idolater  of  Mammon.  A  lecture  on  covetousness,  which 
should  concentrate  its  whole  rebuke  on  the  love  of  money  taken  abstractedly,  might  even  do  mis- 
chief; for  every  hearer  who  could  say  he  did  not  so  love  money  would  confidently  infer  that 
therefore  he  was  not  guilty  of  covetousneBs. 


118  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

structing  and  setting  up  a  golden  image  (not  like  that  which,  with  a 
portion  of  gold,  was  composed  i'or  the  greater  part  of  baser  materials, 
as  low  as  clay),  the  radiant  ideal  of  all  the  Christian  graces  and  virtues 
assembled  in  harmony  and  perfection.  But  to  what  end  1  Is  it  that 
the  people,  Avhen  they  recover  themselves  to  consideration,  may,  with 
grief  on  the  part  of  the  pious  and  benevolent,  and  with  malignant  plea- 
sure on  the  part  of  the  profane,  adjudge  the  greater  proportion  of  those 
who  have  a  general  acceptance  as  religious  persons,  not  to  be  truly 
such  ?  Or  is  it  that  persons  sincerely  intent  on  religion,  actuated  in 
some  considerable  degree  by  its  spirit,  but  painfully  conscious  of  a  vast 
disparity  to  the  pattern  so  splendidly  exhibited,  should  therefore  resign 
themselves  to  despondency  1  Or  what  else  f  What  else  ■? — unless,  after 
looking  up  to  this  consummate  pattern,  the  teacher,  taking  a  descend- 
ing track  of  thought,  shall  exert  his  best  judgment  to  show,  through 
several  degrees  cautiously  followed  downwards,  how  the  genuine  prin- 
ciple may  exist  where  there  is  much  at  variance  with  it ;  insisting,  at 
each  grade,  on  the  manner  in  which  it  is  essential  for  that  principle  to 
act,  in  proof  that  it  is  really  there  notwithstanding  the  offensive  things 
that  keep  their  place  with  it ;  and  solemnly  protesting  aganist  the  fatal 
propensity  to  find  a  ground  of  safety  at  the  last  lowest  point  at  which 
it  may  be  hoped  that  the  principle  may  still  be  not  absolutely  incom- 
patible with  that  with  which  it  is  inconsistent  1 

It  appeared  a  serious  defect  in  Mr.  Hall's  preaching  that  he  practi- 
cally took  on  him  too  little  of  this  responsibility  In  temporary  oblivion 
of  the  rule  that  theoretic  description  should  keep  existing  fact  so  much 
in  view  that  a  right  adjustment  may  be  made  between  them,  he  would 
expatiate  in  eloquent  latitude  on  the  Christian  character,  bright  and 
"  full-orbed"  in  all  its  perfections,  of  contempt  of  the  world,  victory 
over  temptation,  elevated  devotion,  assimilation  to  the  Divine  image, 
zeal  for  the  Divine  glory,  triumphant  faith,  expansive  charity,  sanctity 
of  life  ;  without  an  intimation,  at  the  time  or  afterward,  that  all  this,  so 
sublime  if  it  were  realized,  so  obligatory  as  the  attainment  towards 
which  a  Christian  should  be,  at  whatever  distance,  aspiring,  is  yet 
unhappily  to  be  subjected,  in  behalf  of  our  poor  nature,  to  a  cautious 
discussion  of  modifications  and  degrees ;  especially  when  the  anxious 
question  comes  to  be,  What  deficiencies  prove  a  7nan  to  be  no  Christian  ? 

Now  a  hearer,  left  to  some  coolness  of  thought,  was  tempted  to  say 
to  himself.  What  do  the  people  think  of  this  ? — if  indeed  they  do  think, 
if  they  be  not  beguiled  away  from  reflection.  How  does  it  strike  the 
many  persons  in  this  large  assembly  who,  respectable  perhaps  as  men 
of  the  world,  make  no  pretension  to  what  is  meant  by  personal  religion; 
and  how  thoSe  others  who  despise  or  hate  it,  and  would  hardly  endure 
to  hear  any  thing  about  it  but  for  the  sake  of  the  eloquence  which 
they  tliink  miglit  have  been  more  worthily  employed  ?*  Are  they 
carrying  out,  in  imagination,  this  brilliant  picture  into  the  real  world, 
where  they  have  observed  and  descried,  with  no  little  vigilance,  the 
culpable  tempers,  habits,  and  proceedings,  the  inconsistencies,  weak- 
nesses, and  errors,  of  many  wliom  the  preacher  himself  would  be  the 
last  man  to  pronounce  altogether  destitute  of  piety !  But  if  they  do 
make  this  iuvidious  use  of  tlie  description,  will  they  not  with  pernicious 
self-complacency  assume — not  exactly  that  all  areahke,  but — that  none 
are  Christians,  or  that  super-emphatically  they  must  be  "  few  that  be 

*  I  recollect  the  instance  of  a  gentleman  e.xpressing,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  public  service,  the 
highest  admiration  of  the  preacher,  and  adding,  "  What  pity  Mr.  Hall's  great  talents  had  not  been 
destined  to  the  bar  or  the  House  of  Commons,  where  he  would  have  made  so  capital  a  figure  I" 


AS  A  PREACHER.  119 

saved,"  if  absolutely  this  alone  be  Christianity  1  Why  let  them  go  off 
with  this  mischievous  advantage'? 

A  nd  how  does  it  strike  the  persons  here,  who  stand  in  the  recognised 
accepted  class  of  the  religious  1  Have  they,  wliile  hearing  this  ele- 
vated strain,  any  such  thing  as  reflection  on  themselves  1  Is  their  con- 
science lulled  by  what  might  seem  adapted  in  all  reason  to  alarm  it  ? 
Have  they  no  secret  monition — are  the  very  serpents  themselves  that 
infest  a  corrupt  and  but  imperfectly  renovated  nature  so  charmed  into 
stillness  that  there  is  no  consciousness — of  many  things  which  this 
grand  exemplar  shines  but  to  expose  and  condemn  1  What !  is  there 
no  internal  voice  to  accuse  them,  any  of  them,  of  such  things  as  a 
proneness  to  an  excessive  love  of  the  world,  as  coldness  of  devotion, 
reluctance  to  duty,  insubordination  to  the  Divine  will,  lapses  into  a 
besetting  sin,  the  indulgence  of  evil  tempers,  selfish  competition  with 
fellow-mortals,  frequent  forgctfulness  of  hereafter  ?  If  there  be  not, — 
if  their  admiration  of  the  beautiful  image  of  Christian  excellence  in 
the  abstract  carry  them  away  from  all  consciousness  of  what  is  unlike 
it  in  themselves,  it  is  quite  time  to  come  down  to  a  strain  that  shall 
turn  their  thoughts  homeward,  and  bring  them  into  a  consideration  of 
what  they  are  virtually  doing  in  admiring  such  a  model ;  shall  excite 
them  to  reflect,  if  they  so  admire  one  and  another  feature  of  it,  what 
they  should  think  of  this  and  the  other  circumstance  in  their  actual 
condition.  It  would  be  well  to  bring  them  to  the  questions  of.  What  is 
the  difference  !  and.  Why  such  a  difference  1  and.  What  would  be  the 
right  feeling  under  the  self-conviction  of  such  a  difference  1  Let  them 
not  be  suffered  to  regard  this  bright  model  merely  as  the  ideal  repre- 
sentation of  something  so  unattainable  on  earth,  that  they  are  absolved 
from  any  serious  consideration  whether,  and  how,  they  have  formed  a 
judgment  of  what  i^  attainable  and  must  be  attained;  what  they  are 
really  wishing  to  attain ;  what  they  think  they  have  attained ;  why  it  is 
no  more  ;  what  are  the  conscious  evils  yet  unsubdued  ;  what  they  deem 
the  proportion  of  those  evils  to  be  to  the  better  part ;  how  they  measure 
that  proportion,  and  ascertain  the  predominance  of  the  good ;  and  whe- 
ther they  be  disposed  to  content  themselves  with  that  state  of  the  case. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  this  bright  exhibition  of  the  Christian  char- 
acter, instead  of  playing  harmlessly  over  them  like  an  aurora  borealis, 
has  sent  his  rays  deeply  into  their  souls,  and  is  bringing  more  plainly 
to  their  own  view  the  evils  lurking  there,  the  sinful  propensities,  the 
spiritual  disorders  of  whatever  class,  with  the  addition  of  the  moral 
and  practical  ones  resulting  externally,  in  what  manner  are  they  adjust- 
ing that  very  serious  contrast,  so  as  to  maintain  a  confidence  that, 
nevertheless,  on  the  whole  the  case  is  safe  ■?  No  doubt  it  must  be,  by 
making  very  large  allowances  for  the  sad  imperfection  of  our  nature. 
But  would  it  not  be  well  for  the  Christian  instructer  to  endeavour  to 
take  that  somewhat  hazardous  process  out  of  the  hands  of  their  self- 
love,  by  interfering  himself  in  the  adjudication  of  what  may  be  con- 
ceded to  a  fallen  nature,  on  such  conditions  as  shall  not  essentially 
invalidate  the  demands  of  religion  ^ 

As  the  last  observation  I  would  take  the  liberty  to  make,  I  may  note 
the  same  prevaiUng  inadvertence  to  the  realities  of  life  in  Mr.  Hall's 
manner  of  representing  the  happiness  conferred  by  religion ;  premising, 
as  a  thing  somewhat  of  a  piece  with  this  particular,  that  he  would 
sometimes  indulge  in  language  hardly  consonant  to  either  theory  or 
experience  in  what,  undesignedly,  it  seemed  to  imply  of  the  facility  of 
entering,  by  a  transition  of  spirit  and  action,  on  the  Christian  life.  I 
will  confess  he  did  appear  to  me,  in  reference  to  this  matter,  to  lose 


120  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

siffht  too  much,  wlien  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  animated  current 
ofhis  sentiments,  of  the  desperate  and  obstinate  aUenation  of  tlie  human 
soul  from  its  Creator.  It  was  not  that  he  did  not  most  fully  believe  this 
to  be  the  condition  of  our  nature,  on  the  evidence  of  both  Scripture 
and  notorious  fact ;  or  that  he  did  not  hold,  according  to  the  strictest 
Calvinistic  construction,  the  doctrine  of  the  necessity  of  a  special 
Divine  agency  for  men's  conversion  to  a  new  spiritual  state ;  but  that, 
when  his  mind  was  kindled  at  the  attractions  and  glories  of  religion, 
he  would  forget,  for  the  time,  both  how  lost  are  those  attractions  on  a 
corrupt  nature,  and  what  a  dreadful  combination  of  influences  there  is 
to  retain  it  in  its  aversion. 

But  to  revert  to  the  specified  topic,  the  representation  of  the  happi- 
ness of  the  Christian  character.  He  would  describe  with  a  prolonged 
effusion  of  beautiful  sentiment  and  language,  the  delightful  confidence 
in  the  Divine  favour,  the  harmony  and  communion  of  the  pious  spirit  with 
its  God  and  Saviour,  the  independence  on  sublunary  things,  the  superiority 
to  the  cares  and  distractions  of  hfe,  the  serenity  of  trust  in  Providence 
under  the  greatest  trials  or  most  menacing  presages,  the  cordial  invariable 
acquiescence  in  the  Divine  dispensations,  the  victory  over  the  fear  of 
death,  the  unclouded  prospect  into  eternity.  Now  it  needs  not  be  said 
that  such  would  be  the  felicities  of  a  condition  exalted  to  the  absolute 
perfection  of  Christianity  ;  or  that  the  religious  instructer  should  point 
to  these  elevations,  as  the  eminence  towards  which  it  is  the  tendency 
of  religion  to  draw  the  human  spirit,  and  towards  which  a  Christian  is 
to  aspire,  liowever  remote  his  utmost  ascent  maybe  from  reaching  it. 
He  may  do  well  to  cite  from  the  memorials  of  good  men  some  of  the 
examples  most  remarkably  approaching  to  a  practical  evidence,  that 
such  is  the  felicity  which  it  is  in  the  nature  of  religion  to  impart.  And 
he  will  have  at  once  to  reprove  those  who,  regarding  such  a  privileged 
existence  as  something  like  a  visionary  scene  suspended  in  the  skj'-, 
rather  than  a  state  partially  attainable  by  mortals,  are  resting  with  a 
dull  acquiescence  in  a  poverty  of  religious  enjoyment ;  and  to  console 
and  animate  those  whose  earnest  aspirations  are  repressed  by  the 
consciousness  how  little  they  attain.  But  if,  in  describing  the  happi- 
ness of  a  Christian,  he  take  it  at  its  highest  degree,  to  which  the  expe- 
rience of  the  most  devout  men  has  risen  only  at  some  favoured  seasons 
(at  least  if  they  had  much  to  do  withthe  world's  concerns),  and  spread 
out  the  representation  in  imagery  all  formed  of  the  finest  elements, 
omitting  to  advert  to  the  actual  state  of  good  men,  so  beset  and  over- 
run with  things  whicli  deny  them  to  be  so  happy,  it  would  be  inevitable 
for  the  supposed  cool-minded  hearer  to  have  his  thoughts  once  more 
looking  olf  to  matters  of  fact.  He  would  say  to  himself,  "  It  may  be 
taken  as  certain,  that  many  among  the  sincere  Christians  in  this  assem- 
bly are  in  circumstances  which  must  make  them  listen  to  this  unqualified 
representation  with  pain  or  with  incredulity.  Some  of  them  are 
harassed,  without  the  possibility  of  escape,  by  the  state  of  their  worldly 
affairs ;  perhaps  suffering  or  dreading  disasters  beyond  the  reach  of 
prudence  to  prevent;  anxiously  awaiting  a  critical  turn  of  events; 
vexed  beyond  the  patience  of  .lob  by  the  untowardness,  selfishness,  or 
dishonesty  encountered  in  their  transactions.  Some  are  enduring  the 
cares  and  hardships  of  poverty.  Some  are  distressed  by  bad  dispositions 
among  their  nearest  kindred ;  perhaps  by  anticipations,  grievous  in  pro- 
portion to  their  piety,  of  tlie  conduct  and  ultimate  destiny  of  their  chil- 
dren. Some  may  have  come  here  for  an  hour  who  are  fixed  in  the  sad 
situation  of  witnessing  the  slow  but  certain  progress  of  persons  whose 
life  is  on  all  accounts  most  important  to  them,  in  a  descent  towards  the 


AS  A  PREACHER.  121 

grave.  Some  are  experiencing,  while  strenuously  maintaining,  a  severe 
conflict  between  the  good  and  evil  in  their  own  minds.  Some  may  be 
in  mortifying  recollection  of  lapses  into  which  they  have  been  betrayed. 
Some  are  of  melancholic  temperament;  and  while  striving  to  keep 
hold  of  their  faith  and  hope,  are  apt  to  see  whatever  concerns  their 
welfare  in  an  unfavourable  view  in  every  direction,  and  especially  in 
looking  forward  to  death.  Some,  of  contemplative  disposition,  are  often 
oppressed,  even  to  a  degree  of  danger  to  their  piety,  by  the  gloom 
which  involves  the  economy  of  the  world,  where  moral  evil  has  been 
predominant  through  all  the  course  of  time.  In  short,  it  is  probable 
that  the  much  larger  proportion  of  the  religious  persons  now  present 
are  in  no  condition  to  allow  a  possibility  of  their  yielding  themselves 
in  sympatliy  with  the  spirit  of  this  celebration  of  the  happiness  of 
religion.  Would  it  not,  then,  be  a  more  useful  manner  of  illustrating 
this  subject,  to  carry  it  into  a  trial  on  the  actual  circumstances  of  the 
Christian  life ;  to  place  it,  with  appropriate  discriminations,  by  the  side 
of  the  real  situations  of  good  men;  to  show  that,  notwithstanding  all, 
religion  can  ensure  a  preponderance  of  happiness ;  to  demonstrate  how 
it  can  do  so ;  to  point  out  the  most  efficacious  means,  in  each  case 
respectively,  and  urge  their  diligent  use  ;  to  suggest  consolations  for 
deficient  success,  with  a  note  of  admonition  respecting  such  of  its  causes 
as  require  that  reproof  be  mixed  with  encouragement ;  all  the  while 
keeping  in  view  that  condition  of  our  existence  on  earth  which  renders 
it  inevitable  that  the  happiness  created  even  by  religion,  for  the  men 
most  faithfully  devoted  to  it,  should  not  be  otherwise  than  greatly 
incomplete  V 

These  observations  have  grown  to  a  length  beyond  my  intention  or 
expectation  ;  and  I  should  have  been  better  pleased  if  I  could  have  felt 
assured  that  a  far  less  protracted  criticism  might  suffice  for  an  intelli- 
gible description  of  the  nature  and  operation  of  certain  things,  in  the 
character  of  Mr.  Hah's  ministration,  whicli  I  had  presumed  to  think  not 
adapted,  in  the  proportion  of  its  eminent  intellectual  superiority,  to 
practical  eflfect. 

It  is  not  to  be  exacted  of  the  greatest  talents  that  they  have  an  equal 
aptitude  to  two  widely  different  modes  of  operation.  Nor  is  any  in- 
vidious comparison  to  be  made  between  the  respective  merits  of  excelling 
in  the  one  and  in  the  other.  But,  indeed,  it  were  impossible  to  make 
any  comparative  estimate  that  should  be  invidious  to  Mr.  Hall,  if  the 
question  were  of  intellect,  considered  purely  as  a  general  clement  of 
strength.  To  attain  high  excellence  in  the  manner  of  preaching  which 
I  have  indicated  as  what  might  be  a  more  useful  than  his,  though  it 
require  a  clear-sighted  faculty,  disciplined  in  vigilant  and  various 
exercise,  is  within  the  competence  of  a  mind  of  much  more  limited 
energy  and  reach  than  Mr.  Hall's  power  and  range  of  speculative 
thought.  At  the  same  time  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  such  a  mode  of 
conducting  the  ministration,  whatever  were  the  talents  employed,  were 
they  even  of  the  highest  order,  would  demand  a  much  more  laborious 
and  complicated  process  than  it  cost  our  great  preacher  to  produce  his 
luminous  expositions  of  Christian  doctrine,  with  those  eloquent,  but  too 
general,  practical  applications  into  which  the  discussion  changed 
towards  the  close.  Indeed,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that,  besides  the 
circumstances  which  I  have  noted  as  indisposing  and  partly  unfitting 
him  to  adapt  his  preaching  discriminatively  to  the  states  and  characters 
of  men  as  they  are,  another  preventing  cause  was,  a  repugnance  to  the 
kind  and  degree  of  labour  required  in  such  an  operation.     For  some 


122  MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER 

passages  found  in  his  writings  appear  to  prove  that  his  conception  of 
the  most  effective  manner  of  preaching  was  very  considerably  different 
from  his  general  practice.*  I  repeat,  his  general  practice;  for  it  would 
be  wrong  to  dismiss  these  comments  without  observing  that  he  did 
sometimes  discuss  and  illustrate  a  topic  in  a  special  and  continued 
application  to  circumstances  in  the  plain  reality  of  men's  condition. 
And  when  he  did  so  it  was  with  striking  and  valuable  effect.  I  shall, 
for  instance,  never  forget  the  admiration  with  which  I  heard  a  sermon, 
chiefly  addressed  to  the  young,  from  the  text,  "  For  every  thing  there  is 
a  time."  Nothing  could  exceed  the  accuracy  of  delineation,  and  the 
felicitous  management  of  language,  with  which  he  marked  the  circum- 
stances, conjunctures,  and  temptations  of  realhfe  :  the  specific  interests, 
duties,  dangers,  vices  ;  the  consequences  in  futurity  of  early  wisdom  or 
folly ;  and  the  inseparable  relation  of  every  temporal  and  moral  interest 
to  religion ;  with  an  inculcation  of  which,  conceived  in  faithful  appro- 
priateness to  the  preceding  topics,  he  closed  in  a  strain  of  what  merited 
to  be  irresistible  pathos. f  Sermons  of  a  tenor  to  class  them  with  this 
were  heard  at  intervals,  not  so  wide  but  that  the  number  might  be  some- 
what considerable  within  the  space  of  two  or  three  years.  It  should 
be  observed,  however,  that  their  construction  was  still  not  wholly 
diverse  from  his  general  manner.  The  style  of  address  was  not  marked 
by  rises  and  falls  ;  did  not  alternate  between  familiarity  and  magisterial 
dignity ;  was  not  modified  by  varying  impulses  into  a  strain  which,  as 
was  said  of  Chatham's  eloquence,  was  of  every  kind  by  turns.  It  was 
sustained,  unintermitted,  of  unrelaxing  gravity,  in  one  order  of  language, 
and,  after  a  short  progress  from  the  commencement,  constantly  rapid  in 
delivery.  But  still  those  sermons  were  cast  in  the  best  imaginable 
compromise  between,  on  the  one  hand,  the  theoretic  speculation  and 
high-pitched  rhetoric  to  which  he  was  addicted,  and,  on  the  other,  that 
recognition   of  what  men  actually   are  in  situation  and  character,  to 

*  Several  paragraphs  might  be  cited  from  his  sermon  on  the"  Discouragements  and  Supports  of 
the  Christian  Minister."     I  will  transcribe  two  or  three  sentences. 

"  The  epidemic  malady  of  our  nature  assumes  so  many  shapes,  and  appears  under  such  a  variety 
of  symptoms,  that  these  may  be  considered  as  so  many  distinct  diseases,  which  demand  a  propor- 
tionate variety  in  the  method  of  treatment Without  descending  to  such  a  minute  speci- 
fication of  circumstances  as  shall  make  our  addresses  personal,  Ihcy  ouglit  unquestionably  to  be 
characteristic;  that  the  conscience  of  the  audience  may  feel  the  hand  of  the  preacher  searching 
it,  and  every  individual  know  where  to  class  himself  The  preacher  who  aims  at  do  ng  good  will 
endeavour,  above  all  things,  to  insulate  his  hearers,  to  place  each  of  them  apart,  and  render  it  im- 
possible for   him   to  escape   by  losing  himself  in  the  crowd It  is  thus  the  Christian 

minister  should  endeavour  to  prepare  the  tribunal  of  conscience,  and  turn  the  eyes  of  every  one  of 
his  hearers  on  himself" — Works,  vol.  i.  p.  139,  140. 

To  the  same  effect,  th<!re  are  several  pages  of  advice  to  preachers,  in  the  "  Fragment  on  Village 
Preaching."  The  value  of  the  whole  section  will  be  but  partially  apprehended  from  the  following 
extracts. 

"  A  notion  prevails  among  some,  that  to  preach  the  gospel  includes  nothing  more  than  a  recital 
or  recapitulation  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  Christianily.  If  these  are  firmly  believed  and  zeal- 
ously embraced,  they  are  ready  to  believe  the  work  is  done,  and  that  aU  the  virtues  of  the  Christian 
character  Will  follow  by  necessary  consequence.  Hence  they  satisfy  themselves  with  reconuncnd- 
jng  holiness  in  general  terms,  without  entering  into  its  particular  duties;  and  this  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  rather  to  predict  it  as  the  result  of  certain   opinions,  than  to  enforce  it  on  the  ground  of 

moral   obligation The  conscience  is  not  likely  to  be  touched  by  general  declamations   on 

the  evil  of  sin  and  the   beauty  of  holiness,  without  delineation  of  character He  must 

know  little  of  human  nature  who  perceives  not  the  callousness  of  the  human  heart,  and  the  per- 
fect indifference  with  which  it  can  contemplate  the  most  alarming  truths  when  they  are  presented 
in  a  general  abstract  form.  It  is  not  in  this  way  that  religious  instruction  can  be  made  permanently 
interesting.  It  is  when  particular  vices  are  displayed  as  they  appear  in  real  life,  when  the  art's 
of  self-deception  are  detected,  and  the  vain  excuses  by  which  a  sinner  palliates  his  guilt,  evades 
the  conviction  of  conscience,  and  secures  a  delusive  tranquillity— ir  a  word,  it  is  when  the  heart  is 
forced  to  see  in  itself  the  original  of  what  is  described  by  the  apistle;  and,  Jierceiving  that  the 
secrets  of  his  heart  are  innde  manifest,  he  falls  down,  and  confesies  tliat  God  is  among  us  of  a 
truth.  The  reproof  which  awakened  David  from  his  guilty  sluuiber,  and  made  him  w^eep  and 
treiiililc,  turned,  not  on  the  general  evjl  of  sin,  but  on  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  aggravation 
attending  tliat  which  be  IkkI  committed."— Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  194-196. 

t  One  of  the  reported  Hcrinons  in  the  present  volume,  that  on  the  "  Love  of  God,"  is  a  remarkable 
e.vaniplc  of  specific  illustration,  pointedly  applied. 


AS  A  PREACHER.  •  123 

which  his  mind  did  not  so  easily  descend.  They  were  the  sermons 
which  the  serious  and  intelligent  hearers  regretted  that  people  of 
every  class,  in  many  times  the  number  of  the  actual  congregation, 
should  not  have  the  benefit  of  hearing ;  and  which  it  is  now  their  deep 
and  unavailing  regret  that  he  could  not  be  induced  to  render  a  lasting,  I 
might  say  a  perennial,  source  of  utility  to  the  public. 

I  cannot  be  aware  whether  the  opinions,  or  feelings  less  definite  than 
opinions,  of  readers  who  have  had  the  advantage  of  hearing  Mr.  Hall, 
will  coincide  with  the  observations  ventured  in  these  latter  pages. 
Those  who  have  heard  him  but  very  occasionally  will  be  incompetent 
judges  of  their  propriety.  I  remember  that  at  a  time  very  long  since, 
when  I  had  not  heard  more  perhaps  than  three  or  four  of  his  sermons, 
I  did  not  apprehend  the  justness,  or,  indeed,  very  clearly  the  import,  of 
a  remark  on  that  characteristic  of  his  preaching  which  I  have  attempted 
to  describe,,  when  made  to  me  by  his  warm  friend  and  most  animated 
admirer  Dr.  Ryland ;  who  said  that  Mr.  Hall's  preaching  had,  with  an 
excellence  in  some  respects  unrivalled,  the  fault  of  being  too  general; 
and  he  contrasted  it  with  that  of  Mr.  Hall's  father,  who  had  erred,  he 
thought,  on  the  side  of  a  too  minute  particularity. — But  whether  these 
strictures  be  admitted  or  questioned,  1  will  confidently  take  credit  with 
every  candid  reader,  for  having,  as  in  the  character  of  historian,  and 
disclaiming  the  futile  oiRce  of  panegyrist,  deliberately  aimed  at  a  faithful 
description  of  this  memorable  preacher,  as  he  appeared  during  that 
latter  period  of  his  public  ministrations  to  which  my  opportunity  of 
frequent  attendance  on  them  has  unfortunately  been  confined. 

I  can  hardly  think  it  should  be  necessary  to  protest  against  such  a 
misunderstanding  of  these  latter  pages  as  should  take  them  to  imply 
that  Mr.  Hall's  preaching  was  not  eminently  useful,  notwithstanding 
those  qualities  of  it  which  tended  to  prevent  its  being  so  in  full  propor- 
tion to  the  mighty  force  of  mind  which  it  displayed.  Its  beneficial 
eifect  is  testified  by  the  experience  of  a  multitude  of  persons,  of  various 
orders  of  character.  Intelligent,  cultivated,  and  inquiring  young  per- 
sons, some  of  them  favourably  inclined  to  religion,  but  repelled  by  the 
uncouth  phraseology,  and  the  meanness  and  trite  commonplace  illustra- 
tion, in  which  they  had  unfortunately  seen  it  presented  ;  some  of  them 
under  temptations  to  skepticism,  and  others  to  a  rejection  of  some 
es.sential  principle  of  Christianity,  were  attracted  and  arrested  by  a  lucid 
and  convincing  exhibition  of  divine  truth.  Men  of  literature  and  talents, 
and  men  of  the  world  wlio  were  not  utterly  abandoned  to  impiety  and 
profligacy,  beheld  rehgion  set  forth  with  a  vigour  and  a  lustre,  and  with 
an  earnest  sincerity  infinitely  foreign  to  all  mei'e  professional  display, 
which  once  more  showed  religion  worthy  to  command,  and  fitted  to 
elevate,  the  most  powerful  minds  ;  which  augmented  the  zeal  of  the 
faithful  among  those  superior  spirits,  and  sometimes  constrained  the 
others  to  say,  "  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian."  Men  of 
sectarian  spirit  were  cheated  of  a  portion  of  their  bigotry,  or  forced 
into  a  consciousness  that  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  And,  as  a 
good  of  a  more  diffusive  kind,  numbers  of  people  of  the  common  order 
were  held  under  an  habitual  impression  of  the  importance  of  religion; 
and  the  enumeration  would,  I  believe,  be  very  considerable  if  it  could 
be  made,  of  individuals  indebted  to  his  ministry  for  those  effectual  con- 
victions which  have  resulted  in  their  devotement  to  God,  and  their 
happiness  in  life  and  death. 

It  is  very  possible,  that  those  parts  which  I  have  so  much  dilated  on, 
with  the  view  of  representing  how  a  different  manner  might  have  been 
more  useful,  will,  by  some  persons,  be  acknowledged  to  be  correctly 


124      MR.  HALL'S  CHARACTER  AS  A  PREACHER. 

described  as  matter  of  fact,  without  agreeing  with  my  opinion  as  to  the 
degree  in  which  they  were  defective  for  usefuhiess.  But  at  all  events, 
and  whatever  the  just  exception  may  be  to  an  unqualified  eulogy,  it  is 
exactly  by  those  whose  discernment  the  least  permitted  them  to  be  un- 
discriminating  in  their  admiration,  that  the  deepest  regret  is  felt  for  the 
departure  of  that  great  and  enlightened  spirit.  The  crude  admiration 
which  can  make  no  distinctions  never  renders  justice  to  what  is  really 
great.  The  colossal  form  is  seen  through  a  mist,  dilated  perliaps,  but 
obscured  and  undefined,  instead  of  standing  forth  conspicuous  in  its 
massive  solidity  and  determinate  lineaments  and  dimensions.  The  less 
confused  apprehension  of  the  object  verifies  its  magnitude  while 
perceiving  its  clear  line  of  circumscription.  The  persons  who  could 
see  where  Mr.  Hall's  rare  excellence  had  a  limit  short  of  the  ideal  per- 
fection of  a  preacher  would,  by  the  same  judgment,  form  the  justest 
and  the  highest  estimate  of  the  offerings  which,  in  his  person,  reason 
and  genius  consecrated  to  religion — of  the  force  of  evidence  with 
which  he  maintained  its  doctrines,  of  the  solemn  energy  with  which  he 
urged  its  obligations,  and  of  the  sublimity  with  which  he  displayed  its 
relations  and  prospects. 

By  those  persons,  the  loss  is  reflected  on  with  a  sentiment  peculiar 
to  the  event,  never  experienced  before,  nor  to  be  expected  in  any  future 
instance.  The  removal  of  any  worthy  minister,  while  in  full  possession 
and  activity  of  liis  faculties,  is  a  mournful  occurrence  ;  but  there  is  the 
consideration  that  many  such  remain,  and  that  perhaps  an  equal  may 
follow  where  the  esteemed  instructer  is  withdrawn.  But  the  feeling 
in  the  present  instance  is  of  a  loss  altogether  irreparable.  The  culti- 
vated portion  of  the  hearers  have  a  sense  of  privation  partaking  of 
desolateness.  An  animating  influence  that  pervaded,  and  enlarged,  and 
raised  their  minds  is  extinct.  While  ready  to  give  due  honour  to  all 
valuable  preachers,  and  knowing  that  the  lights  of  religious  instruction 
will  still  shine  with  useful  lustre,  and  new  ones  continually  rise,  they 
involuntarily  and  pensively  turn  to  look  at  the  last  fading  colours  in  the 
distance  where  the  greater  luminary  has  set. 


NOTE. 


SERAMPORE  MISSIONARIES. 

In  this  collection  of  Mr.  Hall's  works,  every  thing  is  inserted  that  was  pub- 
lished with  his  sanction,  and  that  is  known  to  have  been  written  by  him,  with  the 
exception  of  a  single  letter,  which  he  many  years  ago  engaged  to  suppress.  But, 
on  inserting  the  letter  in  reference  to  the  Serampore  missionaries  (vol  ii.  p.  444.), 
I  inadvertently  omitted  to  mention,  that  it  received  a  place  in  consequence  of  the 
general  rule  thus  adopted,  and  without  asking  the  concurrence  of  Mr.  Foster.  I 
therefore  think  it  right  to  insert  a  letter  from  Mr.  Foster,  relative  to  what  he 
regards  as  Mr.  Hall's  misapprehension  of  some  main  points  in  a  most  painful 
subject  of  discussion.  The  controversy  between  the  London  committee  and  the 
Serampore  missionaries,  I  have  always  deeply  deplored.  Yet  I  have  an  entire 
persuasion  that  the  committee  did  every  thing  in  thctr  power  to  avoid  it,  and 
abstained  from  making  it  public  until  they  were  compelled  to  do  so  by  a  feeling 
of  duty  to  the  society  with  the  management  of  whose  concerns  they  are  intrusted. 

Olinthus  Gregory. 

TO  DR.  GREGORY. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  observe  you  have  admitted  into  the  second  volume  of  Mr.  Hall's  works,  very 
possibly  without  having  had  time,  amid  your  various  and  important  engagements, 
for  a  deliberate  consideration,  a  letter  written  by  Mr.  Hall  to  the  "  Committee  of 
the  Baptist  Missionary  Society,"  in  March,  1827,  on  the  occasion  of  a  request 
from  the  Serampore  missionaries,  for  a  certain  annual  grant  of  money  from  that 
society.  As  that  letter  is  calculated  to  injure  the  character  of  those  missionaries 
in  the  estimation  of  the  readers  of  Mr.  Hall's  works  in  times  to  come,  allow  me  to 
submit  to  you,  whether  it  be  not  a  claim  of  justice  that  you  should  give  a  place, 
in  the  concluding  volume,  to  an  observation  or  two  which  I  have  to  offer. 

Some  of  the  points  alluded  to,  with  implied  censure,  in  that  letter  (those 
respecting  the  constitutional  terms  of  the  relation  which  had  subsisted  between 
the  society  and  those  missionaries),  will  be  matters  of  small  account  in  the  view 
of  the  future  generation  of  readers.  But  the  main  purport  and  effect  of  that  letter 
must  be,  in  the  apprehension  of  those  readers,  to  hx  a  dishonourable  imputation 
on  personal  character.  It  is  charged  upon  the  Serampore  fraternity  (as  well  col- 
lectively as  in  their  representative,  Dr.  Marshman)  that  they  were  rapacious  of 
money  ;  that  they  were  apparently  practising  to  see  how  much  of  it  they  could 
extort,  on  the  strength  of  their  reputation,  as  presumed  by  them  to  be  of  essential 
importance  to  that  of  the  society  ;  that  they  were  already  exceeding  the  utmost 
pardonable  advance  of  encroachment ;  that  they  were  likely  to  be  progressive  and 
insatiable  in  their  exactions  ;  and  that  their  possession,  at  the  very  same  time,  of 
"  an  extensive  revenue,"  "  large  pecuniary  resources,"  rendering  needless  to  them 
the  assistance  applied  for,  stamped  a  peculiar  character  of  arrogance  on  that 
attempt  at  exaction. 

Suppose  a  reader  at  some  distant  time  to  form  his  judgment  exclusively  on  this 
representation,  as  an  authentic  and  sufficient  evidence  ;  and  what  can  he  think 
of  those  men,  but  that  they  must  have  been,  to  eay  no  more,  some  of  the  most 


126  SERAMPORE  MISSIONARIES. 

unreasonable  of  mankind  1 — that  though  they  did  perform  things  which  remain 
memorable  in  religious  history,  they  were  not  worthy  of  their  high  vocation,  for 
that  the  merit  of  their  performances  was  spoiled  by  a  grasping  selfishness  and  an 
exorbitant  arrogance  1  This  supposition,  that  the  document  in  question  may 
have  on  the  judgment  of  readers  an  elfect  inimical  to  the  memory  of  those  original 
missionaries  long  after  they  are  dead,  is  authorized  by  the  probability  that  Mr. 
Hall's  writings  will  retain  a  place  in  public  attention  and  favour  long  after  the 
occasional  productions  of  the  present  time,  in  explanation  and  defence  of  the  con- 
duct of  those  missionaries,  shall  have  gone  out  of  knowledge. 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  appeal  to  your  sense  of  justice  whether  it  be  right, 
that  this  unqualified  invective,  written  for  a  temporary  purpose,  without  probably 
the  least  thought  of  publication,  and  written,  as  I  shall  prove  to  you,  under  extreme 
error,  should  be  perpetuated  in  a  standard  work,  as  a  stigma  on  the  character  of 
those  men,  without  the  admission  also  into  the  same  work,  for  equal  permanence, 
of  a  brief  notice  adapted  to  correct  the  wrong.  The  wrong  is  no  less  than  this — 
that  the  charge,  such  as  I  have  described  it  in  plain  conformity  to  the  document, 
is  made  on  men  who,  having  prosecuted  a  course  of  indefatigable  exertions  in  the 
Christian  cause,  one  of  them  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  another  a 
much  longer  time,  during  more  than  twenty  years  of  which  they  had  not  received 
or  asked  any  share  of  the  society's  income — ^having  supported  themselves,  and 
performed  their  great  literary,  and  their  other  missionary  operations  gratuitously 
— having,  besides  this,  expended  in  the  Christian  service,  during  a  long  period, 
several  thousand  pounds  a-year  from  resources  created  by  their  own  diligence — 
and  having  also  contributed  very  largely  by  their  high  reputation  to  the  public 
credit  and  success  of  the  society  itself — could  not,  after  all  this,  conceive  it  to  be  an 
unreasonable  "  exaction,"  or  "  extortion,"  to  request  the  aid  of  a  sixth  part  of  the 
society's  annual  income,  when  at  last  their  own  had  become  greatly  diminished, 
chiefly  in  co)isequnnce  of  the  establishment  of  other  printing-offices  and  schools  in 
the  neighbouring  city. 

But  the  case  being  so,  it  may  be  asked,  with  some  surprise,  how  Mr.  Hall  could 
be  betrayed  to  write  such  a  letter.  I  can  assign  what  must  have  been  the  chief 
Cause.  He  believed  he  had  reason  to  place  implicit  confidence  in  testimony,  which 
assured  him,  that  the  Serampore  missionaries  were  at  that  very  time  in  the  pos- 
session of  superabundant  wealth  ;  and  he  happened  not  to  be  in  communication 
with  informants  who  could  have  proved  to  him  that  the  contrary  was  the  fact,  to 
a  painful  extreme.  It  is  from  my  own  immediate  knowledge  that  I  make  this 
statement.  In  a  long  conversation,  just  about  the  time  that  the  letter  to  the  com- 
mittee was  written,  he  affirmed  to  me  and  several  other  friends,  on  the  authority  of 
testimony  which  he  assigned,  and  held  to  be  unquestionable,  that  those  missionaries 
had  the  command  of  what  might  truly  be  called  (speaking  in  relative  proportion  to 
such  a  concern)  an  immense  capital  and  income.  I  could  give  you  the  sums  in 
figures,  but  forbear,  purely  in  consideration  of  their  extravagance.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  the  amount  was  most  palpably  and  enormously  beyond  any  alleged  or 
conceivable  necessities  of  such  an  establishment.  Entirely  contident  in  this 
belief,  he  thought  of  course  that  an  application  to  the  society  for  aid  was  a  most 
unreasonable  claim  ;  whereas,  the  fact  was,  as  Dr.  Marshman  represented,  and  as 
Dr.  Carey  soon  after  confirmed,  that  it  was  m;ide  from  the  pressure  of  pecuniary 
difficulty,  which  was  forcing  the  brethren  at  Seram()ore  to  the  alternative  of  either 
obtaining  assistance  in  this  country  or  abandoning  several  of  their  missionary 
stations.  Had  Mr.  Hall  been  aware  of  the  real  state  of  the  case,  he  would  not 
have  written  a  single  sentence  of  that  letter.  It  was  unfortunate  that  he  should 
have  been  so  credulous  to  delusive  representations. 

Again  appealing  to  your  justice  for  the  insertion  of  this  note  of  explanation 
somewhere  in  the  concluding  volume, 

I  remain,  my  dear  sir. 

Yours,  with  the  greatest  regard, 
J.  FOSTER. 


NOTES  OF  SERMONS. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Of  the  notes  of  sermons  left  by  Mr.  Hall,  several  were  such  mere 
skeletons  that  it  did  not  seem  expedient  to  publish  them.  Of  those 
which  have  been  selected  for  insertion,  such  as  do  not  occupy  more  than 
eight  or  nine  pages  seem  simply  to  have  been  employed  as  pulpit  notes, 
without  any  ulterior  reference.  Of  the  remainder,  some  were  un- 
doubtedly, and  others  probably,  written  more  fully  than  his  usual  pulpit 
notes,  that  they  might  serve  as  the  basis  of  a  volume  of  sermons  which 
he  intended  to  prepare  for  publication,*  should  the  state  of  his  health, 
and  a  moderate  freedom  from  interruption,  ever  allow  him  to  accomplish 
his  wishes  in  that  respect.  As  they  now  appear,  however,  they  are  all, 
in  some  measure,  incomplete  ;  not  even  the  fullest  of  them  are  carried 
to  half  the  extent  of  the  preached  sermons  ;  and  in  but  few  is  the  appli- 
cation more  than  hinted.  * 

It  will  not  be  expected,  then,  that  these  notes  should  evince  the  ex- 
quisite finish,  in  point  of  style,  which  they  would  have  received  from  the 
author,  had  he  prepared  them  at  full  length  with  a  view  to  immediate 
publication  ;  or  that  they  should  abound  in  those  copious  and  accumu- 
lative amplifications  of  the  subjects,  or  those  touching  and  powerful 
appeals  to  the  affections  and  conscience,  by  which  liis  preaching  was  so 
eminently  distinguished.  Yet  they  will  be  found  to  exhibit  the  same 
simple  dignity  and  grace,  often  the  same  beauty  and  pathos,  the  same 
richness  and  variety  of  illustration,  as  his  other  works ;  while,  if  T  mis- 
take not,  they  manifest  a  more  tixed  and  constant  determination  to  elu- 
cidate and  apply  scriptural  truth,  a  more  vivid  and  awful  conviction  of 
the  infinite  importance  of  salvation  to  men  who  have  lost  the  image 
and  favour  of  God,  and  a  more  deep  and  pervading  current  of  devotional 
feeling,  than  even  die  most  admired  of  his  former  pubhcations,  eloquent, 
impressive,  instructive,  and  often  truly  sublime,  as  they  unquestion- 
ably are. 

In  preparing  these  notes  for  the  press,  no  changes  whatever  have 
been  made  m  the  author's  language.|  In  places  where  words  are 
omitted,  or  the  mcuiuscript  is  illegible,  the  sense  has  been  suppUed  by 

*  See  Note,  vol.  i.  p.  263. 

t  To  prevent  misconception,  it  may  be  proper  to  state,  that  the  references  to  texts  at 
the  feet  of  the  pages  are  not  in  the  original  manuscripts,  but  have  been  annexed  to  save 
the  reader  the  trouble  of  consulting  a  concordance,  m  cases  where  it  may  seem  desirable 
to  e.xamine  passages  in  connexion  with  their  context. 

Vol.  III.— a* 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

words  introduced  between  brackets.  It  was  sometimes,  however,  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  fill  the  chasms  which  thus  occurred ;  and  though 
I  hope  the  correct  sense  has  been  generally  caught  and  preserved,  yet 
a  few  cases  remain  in  which  I  am  by  no  means  confident  that  this  de- 
sirable result  has  been  obtained. 

My  object  in  selecting  the  Letters,  fi-om  many  more  which  have  been 
most  kindly  transmitted  by  different  friends,  has  not  been  so  much  to 
publish  those  which  exhibit  Mr.  Hall's  talents,  as  those  which  tend  most 
to  illustrate  his  character,  and  to  depict  the  state  of  his  sentiments  and 
his  heart  at  the  periods  of  his  life  in  which  they  were  respectively  written. 
Some  of  them,  however,  will  be  found  truly  beautiful ;  others  exemplify 
his  philosophical  cast  of  thought,  his  admirable  discrimination,  and  the 
happy  facility  with  which,  in  a  few  words,  he  often  separated  truth  from 
the  semblance  of  truth ;  while  several  bear  evidence  of  the  cordiality 
and  permanency  of  his  friendships,  and  the  prompt  and  delicate  sym- 
pathy with  which,  in  seasons  of  affliction  or  bereavement,  he  admin- 
istered the  balm  of  Christian  consolation. 

I  have  been  aided  in  the  selection  of  these  materials  by  the  excellent 
judgment  of  Mr.  Foster,  and  of  another  highly  esteemed  friend,  the 
Rev.  W.  Anderson,  of  Bristol.  They  have,  indeed,  frequently  re- 
lieved my  perplexity,  especially  with  regard'  to  the  difficult  task  of 
choosing,  from  among  numerous  letters  which  cannot  but  be  interesting 
to  the  individuals  to  whom  they  were  respectively  addressed,  or  to  their 
surviving  relatives,  such  as  appeared  most  likely  to  be  interesting  to  the 
public. 

For  the  insertion  of  about  six  or  eight  of  the  letters,  which  I  sent  to 
the  press  when  I  had  not  an  opportunity  of  consulting  them,  I  hold 
myself  responsible. 

On  the  whole,  I  cannot  but  cherish  the  gratifying  persueision,  that 
these  Notes  and  Letters  will  be  prized,  not  merely  by  the  friends  of  Mr. 
Hall,  who  value  every  thing  which  has  proceeded  from  his  pen,  but  by 
all  who  duly  estimate  the  infinite  moment  of  eternal  things,  and  rejoice 
when  religious  verities  are  accurately  stated,  and  impressively  enforced. 

Olinthus  Gregory. 

ROVAL    MiLITARV    ACADEMV, 

Nov.  16,  1831. 


NOTES  OF  SERMONS. 


NOTES  OF  SERMONS. 

I. 

ON  THE  BEING  AND  NAME  OF  JEHOVAH. 

Exod.  iii.  U.—And  God  said  unto  Moses,  I  AM  THAT  I  AM. 
and  he  said,  Thus  shall  ye  say  to  the  children  of  Israel,  I  AM  hath 
sent  me  unto  you* 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  import  of  the  name ;  the  incommunicable 

name. 
II.  The  proof  of  his  [God's]  possessing  the  attributes  included  in  it. 
III.  The  probable  reasons  of  his  choosing  to  represent  himself  under 

this  charactei'. 

1.  The  import  of  the  word  Jehovah.  It  comes  from  a  word  which 
denotes  to  be,  to  exist ;  and  the  proper  import  of  it  appears  to  be 
permanent,  unchanging  existence.  In  the  word  Jehovah  is  included 
the  affixes  and  terminations  of  the  future  and  of  the  past ;  implying 
that  he  centres  within  himself  all  past,  together  with  all  future,  exist- 
ence. 

The  name  I  am  in  the  LXX.  is  rendered  5  S,v. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  the  Revelation  of  St.  John,  the  Lord  describes 
himself  under  the  following  character, — "  Who  is  (5  3v),  and  who  was, 
and  who  is  to  come."     It  denotes  eternal,  original,  unchanging  being. 

Solve  the  difficulty  respecting  this  name  not  being  known  to  Abra- 
ham, to  Isaac,  and  Jacob.  He  never  used  that  name  himself,  though 
Moses  employs  it  in  reciting  the  communications  he  made  to  the  nation. 

II.  We  propose  to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  such  a  Being. 

L  Something  always  must  have  existed,  or  nothing  could  have 
had  an  existence.  To  suppose  the  matter  of  this  world,  for  example, 
to  have  arisen  out  of  nothing,  without  any  cause  whatever,  is  evidently 
to  suppose  what  is  absurd  and  impossible. 

2.  Whatever  exists  of  itself,  and  consequently  from  all  eternity, 
can  never  cease  to  exist,  and  must  be  perfectly  independent  of  every 
other  being,  with  respect  to  existence,  and  the  manner  of  its  existence. 
Since  it  exists  of  itself,  the  cause  and  reason  of  its  existence  must,  by 
the  supposition,  be  in  itself,  not  in  another ;  it  must  have,  so  to  speak, 
a  perpetual  spring  of  existence,  independent  of  the  operation  or  will 

*  Preached  at  Leicester,  in  October,  1814. 


14  THE  BEING  AND  NAME  OF  JEHOVAH. 

of  all  other  beings.  It  exists  by  absolute  necessity.  It  exists  because 
it  cannot  be  otherwise  than  it  is ;  for  whatever  can  be  so  is  contingent, 
not  necessary.  Hence  it  is  absolutely  unchangeable :  which  is  suf- 
ficient to  prove  that  matter  is  not  that  eternal,  self-existent  Being ; 
because  matter  is  undergoing  continual  changes  ;  and  instead  of  being 
unalterable,  is  perfectly  passive  and  indifferent  to  all  changes  whatever. 

3.  The  Being  who  always  existed,  in  and  of  himself,  must  be  an 
intelligent  Being,  or  a  Being  possessed  of  reason  and  understanding : 
for  these  exist ;  and  since  they  could  not  arise  out  of  notliing,  they 
must  have  been  produced  by  sometliing  or  other.  But  they  could  not 
have  been  produced  by  what  was  unintelligent.  Reason  and  under- 
standing could  no  more  have  been  caused  by  what  had  none,  than 
matter  could  have  arisen  out  of  nothing.  Take  a  lump  of  clay,  or 
of  any  part  of  inanimate  matter,  and  ask  yourselves  whether  it  is  not 
in  the  highest  degree  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  power  of  remembering, 
of  reasoning,  of  judging,  should  arise  from  that  as  a  cause.  It  is, 
plainly,  just  as  possible  that  light  should  spring  from  darkness  as  a 
cause,  as  that  which  is  incapable  of  thought  should  produce  it. 
Whether  the  power  of  thinking  may  possibly  be  superadded  to  matter 
is  not  the  question  at  present ;  admitting  this  were  possible,  it  is  plainly 
impossible  that  thought,  or  the  power  of  thinking,  should  spring  from 
inanimate  matter  as  a  cause.  But  as  there  are  many  beings  possessed 
of  reason  and  understanding,  there  must  have  been  at  least  some  one 
intelligent  Being  from  eternity,  or  those  thinking  creatures  could 
never  have  existed ;  since  it  is  quite  as  impossible  that  thought  and 
intelligence  should  arise  out  of  unconscious  matter,  as  that  they  should 
spring  out  of  nothing. 

As  to  the  idea  which  some  atheists  have  pleaded  for,  of  an  eternal 
succession  of  finite  beings,  such  as  we  witness  at  present,  without 
supposing  any  original,  uncaused  Being,  it  is  evidently  inconsistent 
with  reason  and  with  itself.  For  it  affirms  that  to  be  true  of  the  part, 
which  it  denies  with  respect  to  the  whole :  every  particular  being  in 
the  series,  upon  that  supposition,  depends  upon  a  preceding  one,  yet 
the  whole  depends  upon  nothing ;  as  if  it  were  affirmed  that  there  could 
be  a  chain  infinitely  long,  each  link  of  which  was  supported  by  the 
next,  and  so  on,  in  each  instance,  and  yet  the  whole  absolutely  depended 
upon  nothing.  The  difficulty  of  supposing  a  being  beginning  to  exist 
without  a  cause  is  not  at  all  lessened  by  supposing  an  eternal  succes- 
sion of  such  beings ;  for  unless  there  be  some  first  Being  on  whom 
all  the  rest  depend,  it  is  evident  the  whole  series  hang  upon  nothing, 
which  is  altogether  as  impossible  as  that  any  one  in  particular  should. 
Hence  it  is  evident  there  must  have  always  been  one  intelligent  Being, 
whose  existence  is  uncaused  and  absolutely  eternal,  unchangeable, 
and  independent. 

4.  There  is  but  one  such  Being.  To  affirm  there  is  more  than  one, 
without  reason,  must,  by  the  very  terms,  be  unreasonable.  But  no 
shadow  of  reason  can  be  assigned  for  believing  in  a  plurality  of  such 
beings,  because  the  supposition  of  one  accounts  for  all  that  we  see,  as 
well,  and  even  much  better,  than  the  supposition  of  more. 


THE  BEING  AND  NAME  OF  JEHOVAH.        15 

That  there  must  be  one  underived,  self-existent,  eternal,  and  in- 
telligent Cause  must  of  necessity  be  allowed,  in  order  to  account  for 
what  we  know  to  exist ;  but  no  reason  can  be  assigned  for  supposing 
more.  It  is  with  the  utmost  propriety  established  as  an  axiom,  that 
we  ought  in  no  case  to  assign  more  causes  than  will  account  for  the 
effects. 

The  harmony  and  order  of  the  universe,  and  the  sameness  and 
universality  of  the  laws  which  pervade  every  part  of  it  as  far  as  our 
[knowledge*]  extends,  make  it  evident  that  it  is  the  production  of  one 
eternal,  intelligent  Cause.  Had  it  been  the  product  of  many,  there 
would  necessarily  have  been  discrepancies,  irregularities,  and  disorder 
in  it,  as  the  necessary  effect  of  contrary  plans  and  inclinations ;  at 
least,  it  would  have  formed  different  systems,  bearing  the  indication 
of  their  being  the  product  of  distinct  authors:  as  we  see  no  two  indi- 
viduals, left  entirely  to  themselves,  can  be  found,  who  would  build  a 
house  exactly  upon  the  same  plan,  of  the  same  size,  and  with  the  same 
ornaments.  The  most  fundamental  laws  of  the  material  world  [not 
only]  pervade  this  globe  which  we  inhabit,  but  are  found  to  extend  to 
the  remotest  bounds  of  the  universe,  as  far  as  they  have  fallen  under 
our  observation,  either  by  the  naked  eye  or  by  telescopes.  The 
compound  [substance]  of  light  which  illuminates  our  system  is  found 
to  extend  to  the  region  of  the  fixed  stars,  immeasurably  more  distant 
from  us  than  the  sun.  The  law  of  gravitation  pervades  every  particle 
of  matter,  at  least  within  the  solar  system ;  and,  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe,  throughout  the  whole  universe.  Such  simplicity  and  uni- 
formity in  the  laws  of  nature  evince  that  they  are  the  product  of  one 
and  the  same  Intelligence. 

III.  We  propose  to  consider  why  he  chose  to  reveal  himself,  espe- 
cially under  this  character,  rather  than  under  some  one  expression 
of  his  moral  perfections. 

1.  This  is  an  attribute  of  God,  to  which  the  heathen  deities  did  not 
aspire.  It  was  fit  to  be  the  name  of  that  Being  who  was,  when 
worshipped,  to  be  maintained  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  idols,  of  a 
character  totally  distinct. 

None  of  them  pretended  to  be  the  supreme  God,  the  Origin,  and 
Father  of  existence. 

2.  So  abstract  and  elevated  a  conception  of  the  Great  Supreme  was 
less  likely  than  [any]  other  to  be  perverted  into  image-worship. 

No  ideas  are  so  impossible  to  paint  or  represent,  under  sensible 
forms,  as  self-origination,  immutability,  eternal  existence,  &,c. 
The  import  of  Jehovah — not  positive — but  negative. 

3.  It  exhibits  that  view  of  the  Divine  character  which  is  most  peculiar 
and  appropriate  to  the  Supreme  Being,  and  from  which  his  other 
perfections  may  most  satisfactorily  be  inferred  and  deduced. 

*  >Ir.  Hall's  handwTiting  is  frequently  so  chaotic  as  to  defy  all  interpretation  ;  and  words,  and 
short  portions  of  sentences,  are  sometimes  omitted.  In  such  cases,  the  sense  is  supplied  conjec- 
turally  ;  and.  that  the  author  may  not  be  blamed  for  any  imperfections  in  style  or  phraseology, 
which  may  thus  be  occasioned,  the  words  introduced  by  the'editor  are  imifonnly  placed  between 
brackets,  as  above.— Ep. 


16  SPIRITUALITY  "OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

No  other  being  possesses  any  degree  of  them.  And  from  these 
may  be  inferred  his  absolute,  infinite  perfection,  rectitude,  &;c.  &c. 

This  is  the  great,  glorious,  and  fearful  name,  "  The  Lord  our 
God."* 


II. 

THE  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

Isaiah  xxxi.   3. — -The  Egyptians  are  men,  and  not  God;   and   their 
horses  Jlesli,  and  not  spirit, 

I.  The  spirituality  of  the  Divine  nature  is  intimately  connected 
with  the  possession  of  almighty  power.  The  vulgar  notion  which 
would  restrict  the  exercise  of  power  to  what  is  corporeal,  and  deny  it 
to  that  which  is  spiritual  and  immaterial,  is  a  mere  prejudice,  founded 
on  gross  inattention  or  ignorance.  It  probably  arises  chief!)-  from  the 
resistance  which  bodies  are  found  to  oppose  to  the  effort  to  remove  or 
displace  them.  But  so  remote  is  this  from  active  power,  that  it  is 
entirely  the  effect  of  the  vis  inertim,  or  the  tendency  of  matter  to 
continue  in  the  [same]  state,  whether  it  be  of  rest  or  of  motion.  If  we 
inquire  after  the  original  seat  of  power,  we  shall  invariably  find  it  in 
mind,  not  in  body ;  in  spirit,  not  in  flesh. 

The  changes  we  are  able  to  effect  in  the  state  of  the  objecrs  around 
us  are  produced  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  body,  which  is 
always  previously  put  in  motion  by  the  mind.  Volition,  which  is  a 
faculty,  if  you  please,  or  state  of  the  mind,  moves  the  muscles  and  the 
limbs,  and  those  the  various  portions  of  matter  by  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded ;  so  that,  in  every  instance,  it  is  the  spirit  or  immaterial 
principle  which  originally  acts,  and  produces  all  the  subsequent  changes. 
Take  away  the  power  of  volition,  which  is  a  mental  faculty,  and  our 
dominion  over  nature  is  at  an  end.  Within  a  certain  sphere,  and  to  a 
certain  extent,  the  will  is  absolute ;  and  the  moment  we  will  a  certain 
motion  of  the  body,  that  motion  takes  place.  Though  we  are  far 
from  supposing  that  the  Deity  is  the  soul  of  the  world,  as  some  have 
vainly  asserted,  the  power  which  the  mind  exerts  over  certain  motions 
of  the  body  may  furnish  an  apt  illustration  of  the  control  which  the 
Supreme  Spirit  possesses  over  the  universe. 

As  we  can  move  certain  parts  of  our  bodies  at  pleasure,  and  nothing 
intervenes  between  the  volition  and  the  corresponding  movements,  so 
the  great  original  Spirit  impresses  on  the  machine  of  the  universe 
what  movements  he  pleases,  and  without  the  intervention  of  any  other 

♦  Deut.  xxviii.  58. 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  17 

cause.  "  He  speaks,  and  it  is  done ;  he  commands,  and  it  stands 
fast."* 

Since  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  motion  arising  of  its  own  accord 
among  bodies  previously  at  rest,  and  motion  is  not  essential  to  matter, 
but  merely  an  incidental  state,  no  account  can  be  given  of  the  begin- 
ning of  motion  but  from  the  previous  existence  of  mind  ;  and,  however 
numerous  and  complicated  the  links  through  which  it  is  propagated, 
however  numerous  the  bodies  which  are  successively  moved  or  im- 
pelled by  each  other,  it  must  necessarily  have  originated  in  something 
immaterial,  that  is,  in  mind  or  spirit.  It  is  as  a  Spirit  that  the  Deity 
is  the  original  author  of  all  those  successive  changes  and  revolutions 
which  take  place  in  the  visible  universe  arranged  by  unsearchable 
wisdom,  to  which  it  owes  all  its  harmony,  utility,  and  beauty.  It  is 
as  a  Spirit  that  he  exists  distinct  from  it,  and  superior  to  it,  presiding 
over  it  with  the  absolute  dominion  of  Proprietor  and  Lord,  employing 
every  part  of  it  as  an  instrument  passive  in  his  hand,  and  perfectly 
subservient  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  wise  and  benevolent  designs. 
To  this  great  Father  of  Spirits  the  very  minds  which  he  has  formed 
are  in  a  state  of  mysterious  subordination  and  subjection,  so  as  to  be 
for  ever  incapable  of  transgressing  the  secret  bounds  he  has  allotted 
them,  or  doing  any  thing  more,  whatever  they  may  propose  or  intend, 
than  concur  in  executing  his  plan,  or  fulfilling  his  counsel. 

II.  His  spirituality  is  closely  connected  with  his  invisibdity  :  "  The 
King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,"!  "  whom  no  man  hath  seen,  or  can 
see."J 

Whatever  is  the  object  of  sight  must  be  perceived  under  some  deter- 
minate shape  or  figure ;  it  must  be,  consequently,  bounded  by  an  out- 
line, and  occupy  a  determinate  portion  of  space,  and  no  more  ;  attributes 
utterly  incompatible  with  the  conception  of  an  infinite  Being.  He  was 
pleased  formerly,  indeed,  to  signalize  his  presence  with  his  worshippers 
by  visible  symbols,  by  an  admixture  of  clouds  and  fire,  of  darkness 
and  splendour  ;  but  that  these  were  never  intended  to  exhibit  his  power, 
but  merely  to  afford  a  sensible  attestation  of  his  special  presence,  is 
evident,  from  the  care  he  took  to  prevent  his  worshippers  from  enter- 
taining degrading  conceptions  of  his  character,  by  the  solemn  prohibi- 
tion of  attempting  to  represent  him  by  an  image  or  picture.  And  after 
he  had  appeared  to  the  congregation  of  Israel  on  the  mount,  Moses  is 
commanded  to  remind  them  that  they  saw  no  similitude. 

(Here  speak  of  the  impiety  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  as  to  tUese 
points.) 

The  only  visible  representation  of  the  Deity  which  revelation  sanc- 
tions is  found  in  his  Son  incarnate,  in  "Emmanuel,  God  with  us  :"^ 
"  who  is  the  Image  of  the  invisible  God."||  The  picturing  of  the 
Deity  tends  to  produce  degrading  conceptions  of  the  divine  nature, 
partly  as  it  circumscribes  what  is  unlimited,  and  partly,  since  the 
human  form  will  generally  be  selected,  by  leading  men  to  mingle 
with  the  idea  of  God  the  imperfections  and  passions  of  human 
nature. 

»  Ps.  xxxiii.  9.  t  1  Tim.  i.  17.  {  1  Tim.  vi.  16.  §  Matt.  1.  23.        ||  Col.  i  15. 

Vol.  III.— B 


18  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

III.  That  God  is  spirit,  and  not  flesh,  is  a  view  of  his  character 
closely  connected  with  his  omnipresence.  "  Whither  shall  I  go  from 
thy  spirit,  and  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  ascend  up 
into  heaven,  thou  art  there  ;  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold,  thou  art 
there.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  sea,  even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me,  and  thy  right  hand 
shall  hold  me.  If  I  say,  surely  the  darkness  shall  cover  me,  even 
the  night  shall  be  light  about  me.  Yea,  the  darkness  hideth  not  from 
thee ;  but  the  night  shineth  as  the  day  :  the  darkness  and  the  light 
are  both  alike  to  thee.''* 

Matter  is  subjected  to  a  local  circumscription  ;  God,  as  a  spirit,  is 
capable  of  coexisting  with  every  other  order  of  being. 

IV.  Because  God  is  a  spirit,  and  not  flesh,  he  is  possessed  of  infinite 
v/isdom  and  intelligence.  Thought  and  perception  are  the  attributes 
of  mind,  not  of  matter  ;  of  spirit,  and  not  of  flesh  ;  and  for  this  reason, 
the  original  and  great  Spirit  possesses  them  in  an  infinite  degree. 
They  cannot  belong  to  matter,  because  matter  is  divisible  into  an 
infinite  number  of  parts  ;  so  that,  if  the  power  of  thinking  subsists 
in  these,  there  are  in  reality  as  many  distinct  thiaiking  principles  as 
there  are  parts,  and  the  mind  of  every  individual  must  be  a  congeries, 
or  assemblage  of  an  infinite  number  of  minds.  But  if  thought  subsists 
in  none  of  the  parts  separately  taken,  it  cannot  subsist  in  the  whole : 
because  a  whole  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  all  the  parts  considered 
together,  and  nothing  can  be  found  in  the  whole  but  what  previously 
exists  iu  the  several  parts. 

During  the  union  between  the  soul  and  the  body,  the  organs  of  the 
latter  become  the  instruments  of  perception ;  but  it  is  the  mind  alone 
which  thinks,  which  alone  is  conscious,  which  sees  in  the  eye,  hears 
in  the  ear,  feels  in  the  touch.  The  Infinite  Spirit  is,  consequently,  all 
eye,  all  ear,  all  intelligence,  perception  and 

V.  The  spirituality  of  the  Divine  Nature  lays  a  foundation  for  the 
most  intimate  relation  between  the  intelligent  part  of  the  creation  and 
himself.  He  is  emphatically  "  the  Father  of  spirits."  The  relation 
of  the  parent  to  the  child  is  very  intimate  and  close,  because  the  parent 
is  the  instrument  of  his  being  ;  but  God  is  the  Author.  The  earthly 
parent  is  our  father  after  the  flesh,  the  heavenly  is  our  father  after  the 
spirit ;  and  in  proportion  as  the  mind  constitutes  the  most  important 
portion  of  our  nature,  the  relation  subsisting  between  us  and  God  is 
the  most  interesting  and  the  most  essential.  "He  is  not  far  from  any 
of  us,  seeing  we  are  his  offspring  :  in  him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being.'"t  The  body  connects  us  with  the  external  universe  ;  the 
soul  connects  us  with  God.  The  flesh  is  his  production  ;  the  spirit  is 
his  image  :  and,  as  the  former  separates  us  from  him  by  a  dissimilarity 
of  nature,  so  the  latter  assimilates  us  to  him  by  the  possession  of 
principles  and  laws  congenial  with  his  own. 

VI.  The  spirituality  of  the  Divine  Nature  fits  him  for  becoming  our 
eternal  portion  and  supreme  good.  That  which  constitutes  and  secures 
our  felicity  must  be  something  out  of  ourselves ;  since  we  find  our- 

•  Ps.  cxxxix.  7-12.  t  Acts  xvii.  27,  28. 


THE  SOCINIAN  CONTROVERSY.  19 

selves  utterly  inadequate  to  be  the  source  of  our  own  enjoyment,  we  find 
that  without  allying  ourselves  to  an  object  distinct  from  our  own  nature 
we  are  desolate  and  miserable.  To  retire  within  our  own  nature  in 
quest  of  happiness  is  an  idle  and  fruitless  attempt.  The  mind  feels 
itself  fettered  and  imprisoned,  until  it  is  allowed  to  go  forth  and  unite 
itself  to  some  foreign  object. 

Again,  to  form  the  happiness  of  a  mind  must  be  the  prerogative  of 
something  superior  to  itself;  nor  is  there  any  greater  superiority  con- 
ceivable than  that  of  being  the  source  of  enjoyment,  the  bestower  of 
happiness  on  another.  But  while  it  is  superior,  it  must  be  congenial 
in  its  nature.  A  spiritual  being  must  possess  spiritual  happiness  ;  the 
proper  enjoyment  of  the  mind  must  consist  in  something  mental. 


III. 

OUTLINE  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  OF  TWELVE  LECTURES 
ON  THt  SOCINIAN  CONTROVERSY.* 


Introductory  Lecture. 

Jude  3. — It  was  needful  for  mc  to  write  unto  you,  and  exhort  you,  that 
ye  should  earnestly  contend  for  the  faith  which  xoas  once  delivered 
to  the  saints. 


Lecture  II. 

ON  the    PRE-EXISTENCE  of  CHRIST. 

Matt.  xxii.  41,  42. — While  the  Pharisees  were  gathered  together,  Jesus 
asked  them,  saying,    What  think  ye  of  Christ  ?   whose  son  is  he  ? 

Four  classes  of  passages  adduced  in  proof  of  this. 

I.  Those  passages  which  speak  of  the  origin  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
which  accompany  this  by  a  specification  of  "  the  flesh"  in  such  a 
formula  that  the  flesh  is  never  employed  in  a  similar  manner  in  the 
history  of  men. 

II.  Those  passages  in  which  it  is  afiirmed  by  Jesus  Christ  and  by 
his  disciples,  that  he  did  come  down  from  heaven  to  the  earth,  and 
that  by  virtue  of  his  name. 

•  Delivered  at  Leicester  in  1823. 

B2 


80  THE  SOCIXIAN  CONTROVERSY. 

III.  Those  passages  Avliich,  thoiigh  they  do  uot  exactly  assert  that 
Jesus  Christ  existed  before  he  came  into  our  world,  yet  this  is  the 
necessary  conclusion  from  them. 

IV.  One  passage  in  which  our  Lord  directly  affirms  this  proposition 
in  so  many  words,  and  no  other  proposition.     (John  viii.  58.) 


Lecture  III. 

ON    THE    DIV'INITY    OF    CHRIST. 

Matt.  xxii.  41,  42. 

This  attempted  to  be  proved  from  those  passages  in  which  the  titles 
of  God  are  ascribed  to  Jesus  Christ,  of  which  there  are  three  kinds  : 

I.  Those  in  which  he  is  styled  the  Son  of  God. 

II.  Those  in  which  he  is  styled,  not  the  Son  of  God,  but  God 
himself. 

III.  Those  which  are  quoted  by  the  apostles  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, in  which  the  word  Jehovah  is  ascribed  to  Jesus  Christ. 

Lecttjre  IV. 

The  Divinity  of  Christ  proved  from  those  passages  in  which  the 
creation  of  the  visible  universe  is  ascribed  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

I.  This  fact  established  by  Scripture  testimony,  and 

II.  The  attention  directed  to  the  necessary  conclusion  which  is  to 
be  derived  from  it,  That  if  Jesus  Christ  appear  by  Scripture  testimony 
to  be  the  Creator  of  all  things,  he  is  necessarily  God ;  since  the 
primary  idea  which  man  entertains  of  God  identifies  those  perfections 
which  created  the  world  with  the  existence  of  Deity. 

Lecture  V. 

THE    DIVINITY    OF    CHRIST    PROVED     FROM   HIS    BEING     THE    OBJECT     OF 
DIVINE    WORSHIP. 

Vl^orship  may  be  considered  as  mental  or  local.  It  is  to  mental 
worship,  as  consisting  of  those  sentiments  of  adoration  of  the  Deity 
for  his  great  mercies,  a  dependence  upon  the  Author  of  them,  a  desire 
of  liis  favour,  and  submission  to  his  will,  which  mark  every  devout 
Christian,  and  expressed  in  the  language  of  prayer  or  praise,  to  which 
this  part  of  the  discussion  is  chiefly  confined. 


THE  SOCINIAN  CONIROVERSY.  21 


Lecture  VI. 

THE  DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST  PROVED  FROM  CERTAIN  MISCELLANEOUS 
CONSIDERATIONS,  WHICH  COULD  NOT  WITH  CONVENIENCE  BE  RE- 
DUCED TO  ANY  ONE  HEAD,  SIMILAR  TO  THOSE  ALREADY  BROUGHT 
FORWARD. 

I.  If  Jesus  Christ  be  not  a  divine  person,  let  me  say,  it  is  utterly 
inconceivable  how  he  can  dischargee  the  office  and  assumption  of  Head 
of  the  Church,  and  Lord  of  the  Ciiristian  dispensation. 

II.  The  simple  humanity  of  Christ  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  those 
perfections  which  are  ascribed  to  the  Saviour,  since  there  is  not  a  single 
attribute  of  the  divine  nature  which  is  not  found  ascribed  in  different 
forms  to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

III.  The  idea  of  the  simple  humanity  of  Christ  is  utterly  incom- 
patible with  that  ardour  of  sentiment  of  which  he  is  represented  in  every 
part  of  Scripture  as  the  object. 

IV.  The  divinity  of  Christ  is  plain,  from  the  fact  of  his  beuig 
created  and  appointed  the  Judge  of  the  universe. 


Lecture  VII. 

THE  DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST  PROVED  TO  BE  NOT  A  NEW  DOCTRINE,  BUT 
THAT  IT  WAS  KNOWN  BEFORE  THE  NICENE  COUNCIL  HELD  IN  THE 
BEGINNING  OF  THE  FOURTH  CENTURY,  BY  REFERENCES  TO  THE 
FATHERS  : BARNABAS,  HERMAS,  IGNATIUS,  CLEMENS  ROMANUS,  POLY- 
CARP,  JUSTIN  MARTYR,  THEOPHILUS  BISHOP  OF  ANTIOCH,  IRENiEUS, 
TERTULLIAN,  CLEMENS  ALEXANDRINUS,  ORIGEN,  AND  CYPRIAN. 

[The  above  five  Lectures  upon  the  Divinity  of  Christ  were  preached  from  the 
same  text : — Matt.  xxii.  41,  42.] 


Lecture  VIII. 

ON    THE    PERSONALITY    OF    THE    HOLY    SPIRIT. 

Matt,  xxviii.  19. — Go  ye,  therefore,  and  teach  all  nations,  baptizing 
them  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

The  first  proof  of  the  personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit  appears  to  result 
from  the  manner  in  which  the  Spirit,  whatever  is  intended  by  that  word, 
is  mentioned  in  the  Scriptures. 

In  order  to  understand  this,  it  is  necessary  to  reflect  upon  the 
meaning  of  the  word  "  SpiriL" 


22  THE  SOCINIAN  CONTROVERSY. 

The  first  meaning  of  the  term  Spirit  is  wind,  or  breath.    (John  iii.  8.) 

The  next  use  of  the  term  Spirit,  in  the  Scriptures  and  other  writers, 
in  analogy  to  this,  is  to  denote  the  invisible  and  immaterial  part  of 
man,  in  distinction  from  that  which  is  corporeal,  fleshly,  and  tangible. 
(Matt.  xxvi.  41.) 

Again,  it  is  applied  to  those  supernatural  agents  who  are  supposed 
not  to  be  clothed  with  gross  flesh  and  blood,  and  not  to  be  possessed 
of  bodies,  or  any  fleshly  vehicle  whatever.     (Luke  xxiv.  39;  x.  17,  20.) 

The  fourth  meaning  of  this  term  is  very  agreeable  to  the  former. 
By  way  of  distinction,  the  word  Spirit  is  applied  to  the  third  person  in 
the  blessed  Trinity ;  that  is,  The  Spirit,  by  way  of  eminence  ;  and  it 
appears  to  be  so  employed  when  it  is  preceded  by  the  definite  article, 
TO  TTvtvua,  The  Spirit. 

The  second  argument  on  this  subject  is  derived  from  the  obvious 
consideration,  that  the  particular  acts  which  are  ascribed  to  the  Holy 
Spirit  and  its  inspirations,  are  such  as  are  totally  inconsistent  with  any 
idea  but  that  of  his  being  a  proper  person. 

Speaking  is  ascribed  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  (2  Sam.  xxiii.  2  ;  1  Tim. 
iv.  1 ;  Acts  xiii.  2.)    Approbation  is  ascribed  to  the  Spirit.    (Acts  xv.  28.) 

The  passion  of  grief  is  often  applied  to  the  Spirit  of  God.  (Eph. 
iv.  30;  Isaiah  Ixiii.  10.) 

Suffering  or  permitting  is  predicated  of  the  Holy  Spirit.    (Acts  xvi.  7.) 

Sin  can  be  committed  against  nothino-  but  a  person ;  but  Peter 
addresses  Ananias  in  these  words,  "  Why  hath  Satan  filled  thy  heart  to 
lie  to  the  Holy  Gliost?"  &;c.     (Acts  v.  3,  4 ;  Matt.  xii.  32.) 

The  third  argument  for  the  personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  derived 
from  the  personal  pronouns  applied  to  the  Spirit  of  God,  in  such  a 
manner  as  cannot  be  accounted  for,  except  upon  the  obvious  supposi- 
tion of  the  intention  of  our  Saviour  to  represent  the  Spirit  of  God  under 
the  character  of  a  person.     (John  xiv.  16-26;  xv.  26;  xvi.  13.) 

In  the  fourth  place,  the  passage  which  has  been  taken  as  the  foun- 
dation of  this  discourse  appears  to  afford  an  irrefutable  proof  of  the 
truth  for  which  we  are  contending ;  because  the  Holy  Spirit  is  here 
associated  in  such  a  manner  with  two  real  and  divine  persons  as  M'ould 
render  the  connexion  unaccountable,  if  a  real  person  was  not  under- 
stood in  the  third,  as  well  as  in  the  two  former  instances. 


Lecture  IX. 


ON   THE    atonement. 

1  Cor.  XV.  3. — For  I  deliorrcd  uiito  you  first  of  all  that  which  I  also 
received,  how  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,  according  to  the  Scriptures. 

I.  The  first  argument  in  proof  of  the  atonement  of  Christ  is, 
that  the  death  of  the  Saviour  is  repeatedly  stated  to  be  a  proper 
sacrifice. 


THE  SOCmiAN  CONTROVERSY.  23 

Lecture  X. 

ON    THE    ATONEMENT. 

1  Cor.  XV.  3. 

II.  The  second  argument  for  this  doctrine  is  this  :  That  the  import- 
ance which  the  inspired  writers  attach  to  the  blood  of  Christ  is  utterly 
inconsistent  with  the  Socinian  hypothesis,  of  his  death  being  merely  an 
example,  and  as  that  of  a  martyr  sealing  his  testimony  with  his  blood. 

III.  The  inspired  writers  mention  the  subject  of  the  death  of  Christ 
in  such  a  manner  as  implies  its  being  a  real  and  proper  substitution. 

IV.  The  Scriptures  in  numerous  passages  declare  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  proper  cause  and  author  of  our  salvation,  and  all  the  spiritual 
benefits  which  the  gospel  announces. 

V.  The  exaltation  of  Jesus  Christ  at  the  head  of  the  universe,  which 
is  expressly  declared  to  be  the  reward  of  his  sufferings  and  death,  is 
utterly  linconsistent  with  any  supposition  short  of  their  being  expiatory. 

Lecture  XL 

ON    THE    PERSONALITY    AND    REAL    EXISTENCE    OF    SATAN. 

Matt.  iv.  1. —  Then  was  Jesus  led  up  by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness., 
to  be  tempted  of  the  devil. 

The  evidence  for  this  proposition  must  be  a  matter  of  pure  revelation  ; 
for  when  we  consider  the  innumerable  multitude  of  beings  inferior  to 
us, — a  chain  that  descends  from  ourselves  to  the  very  verge  of  nonentity, 
by  such  mutations  of  littleness  that  they  are  for  ever  eluding  our 
senses, — they  leave  it  uncertain  that  there  are  not  as  many  besides  in 
the  middle  stages  as  in  open  vision.  The  inference,  rather  than  the 
contrary,  is  that  they  exist  in  an  equal  scale — that  there  are  as  many 
gradations  of  beings  raised  above  us,  as  there  are  beneath  us.  An 
ascending  series  is  as  probable  as  the  descending,  though  we  may  not 
be  as  familiar  with  one  as  with  the  other.  Nor  is  it  improbable  that 
there  are  invisible  or  spiritual  agents  in  an  inferior  order  to  man. 
When  we  consider  the  infinite  variety  of  forms  of  which  nature  is 
susceptible,  it  is  not  improbable  that  there  are  in  existence  beings, 
either  purely  spiritual,  or  possessed  of  a  vehicle  so  refined  as  to  elude 
our  senses,  and  therefore  justly  styled  spirits. 

But  here  let  us  consider  the  tenor  of  Scripture  on  this  subject : — 

I.  The  sacred  record  gives  us  an  idea  of  a  spiritual  order  of  beings 
styled  angels. 

II.  Let  us  examine  the  solutions  given  by  the  Socinians  of  the 
language  of  Scripture  on  this  subject,  and  see  whether  these  solutions 
will  answer  the  various  occasions  on  which  it  occurs,  and  whether  the 


24  ON  CHRIST'S  DIVINITY 

difficulty  of  tlie  passages  can  be  considered  as  removed  by  the  inter- 
pretation wliich  these  solutions  suggest. 

Those  who  oppose  the  doctrine  of  the  real  existence  of  Satan  sup- 
pose in  general  that  the  words  Satan  and  Devil,  are  used  as  a 
prosopopoeia,  or  personification,  though  what  they  are  intended  to 
personify  they  cannot  agree  [about].  Sometimes  they  are  supposed 
to  personify  evil  in  the  abstract ;  at  other  times,  the  Jewish  magistrates 
and  priests  ;  at  other  times,  the  Roman  magistrates  and  rulers  ;  and  at 
other  times,  a  personal  enemy  to  the  apostle  Paul  in  the  church. 


Lecture  XII. 

ON    THE    SPIRIT    OF    SOCDHANISM. 

Psalm  xix.  7. —  The  law  of  the  Lord  is  perfect,  converting  the  soul;  the 
testimony  of  the  Lord  is  sure,  making  wise  the  simple. 

I.  It  is  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  this  system,  that  as  far  as  it  is 
distinguished  from  the  orthodox,  it  consists  entirely  of  negations,  and 
is  marked  by  its  possessing  nothing  of  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  those  doc- 
trines which  the  other  parts  of  the  professed  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ 
consider  most  precious  and  most  saving. 

II.  Unitarianism  has  a  close  affinity  to  Deism. 

III.  Another  feature  in  this  system  is  its  anti-devotional  character. 

IV.  A  remarkable  feature  in  the  system  of  the  Socinians  is  their 
mixture  along  with  their  doctrine  of  metaphysical  speculation,  which 
is  more  replete  with  danger  than  any  of  the  errors  before  mentioned. 

V.  Another  feature  in  this  system  is  the  tame  submission  to  human 
authority,  which  seems  to  distinguish  above  all  other  persons  those 
who  compose  the  class  styled  Modern  Unitarians. 

VI.  The  last  feature  which  I  shall  mention  in  the  system  of  the 
Socinians  is  their  zeal  for  proselytism. 


IV. 

ON  CHRIST'S  DIVINITY  AND  CONDESCENSION. 

Phil.  ii.  5-9. — Let  this  mind  be  in  you,  lohich  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus  : 
who,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
God;  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation* 

That  species  of  excellence  to  which  such  language  can  be  applied 
with  sobriety,  must  be  carried  to  a  height  and  perfection  which  requires 

*  Mr.  Hall's  notes,  here  (fiven,  do  not  present  an  outline  of  the  whole  sermon,  but  merely  a  state- 
ment of  the  principal  part  of  the  argument.  .\  tolerably  full  account  of  the  entire  sermon,  as  it  wafl 
jireached  in  London,  in  June  1813,  will  be  inserted  hereafter.— Ed. 


AND  CONDESCENSION.  25 

no  ingenuity  to  discover  it ;  it  must  strike  all  eyes,  and  ravish  all 
hearts. 

But  since  it  is  benevolence,  not  in  the  general  idea  of  it,  but  under 
the  specific  form  of  condescension,  that  we  are  seeking  after,  we  are 
under  the  necessity  of  looking,  in  the  passage  before  us,  for  some 
obvious  and  striking  contrast  or  opposition  between  the  dignity  of  the 
Saviour,  and  those  instances  in  which  he  appeared  to  depart  from  that 
dignity.  A  visible  disparity  must  subsist  between  what  he  did,  and 
what  he  might,  from  his  pre-eminent  elevation,  have  been  expected  to  do. 

A  part  of  the  Saviour's  character  to  which  the  inspired  writers  are 
continually  adverting,  and  on  which  they  dwell  with  impassioned 
energy,  must  unquestionably  present  itself  in  a  very  conspicuous  light, 
so  that  no  interpretation  can  for  a  moment  be  admitted,  which  requires 
much  ingenuity  to  discover  the  very  existence  of  that  virtue  it  is 
adduced  to  illustrate. 

There  are  two  opposite  opinions  entertained  respecting  the  person 
of  Christ,  to  which,  without  adverting  to  the  intermediate  ones,  we 
shall  at  present  confine  our  attention,  with  a  view  to  determine  which 
of  these  accords  best  with  the  professed  design  of  the  apostle  in  intro- 
ducing it,  which  is,  to  illustrate  the  wonderful  condescension  of  the  Son. 

The  first  of  these  opinions  involves  the  divinity  of  Christ,  supposing 
him  to  be  the  proper  Son  of  God,  who  assumed  our  nature  into  a  per- 
sonal union  with  himself;  and,  having  in  that  nature  lived  a  life  of 
poverty  and  humiliation,  expired  on  the  cross  for  human  redemption. 
The  second  considers  him  as  a  mere  man,  who  had  no  existence  what- 
ever till  he  came  into  our  world. 

Now,  let  us  consider  which  of  these  two  opposite  views  best  accords 
with  the  passage  under  consideration,  contemplated  as  a  professed 
illustration  of  his  marvellous  condescension,  "  Who  being  in  the  form 
of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God."  We  are  willing 
to  admit  the  correction  of  the  common  version,  suggested  by  our 
opponents,  and  consider  the  meaning  of  the  latter  clause,  that  he  "  did 
not  eagerly  retain  the  likeness  of  God."  The  force  of  the  adverb 
which  introduces  the  subsequent  clause,  and  the  general  structure  of 
the  passage,  appear  to  me  to  justify  such  an  alteration ;  nor  are  we 
aware  of  any  advantage  occurring  to  the  system  we  oppose  by  such 
a  rendering.  The  Socinians  suppose  that  the  purport  of  this  member 
of  the  sentence  is  to  assert,  that  though  our  Lord  was  possessed  of 
miraculous  power,  by  which  he  might  have  drawn  to  himself  that 
homage  which'  is  only  due  to  the  Supreme  Being,  yet  he  declined 
making  such  a  use  of  these  powers.  The  first  instance  of  his  match- 
less humility  and  condescension,  on  their  hypothesis,  is  in  his  not 
impiously  turning  the  weapons  with  which  he  was  armed  against  their 
Author,  thus  employing  himself  to  establish  in  his  own  person  that 
which  it  was  one  great  end  of  his  mission  to  subvert.  That  humility 
with  whicli  the  apostle  was  so  much  enraptured  [consisted,  then,]  in 
not  being  guilty  of  the  grossest  ingratitude  and  impiety  ;  in  not  betray- 
ing his  trust  by  advancing  his  own  honour  and  interest  on  the  ruins  of 
his  from  whom  he  derived  his  commission.     That  our  Saviour  could 


26  ON  CHRIST'S  DIVINITY 

not  have  acted  the  part  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  declined  in  this 
instance  will  surely  be  admitted  ;  but  what  a  preposterous  illustration 
is  that  of  matchless  condescension,  which  is  placed  in  a  mere  abstinence 
from  impiety  and  rebellion  ! 

From  the  preliminary  remarks  we  have  made,  I  trust  it  must  be 
sufficiently  evident  that  this  cannot  be  the  illustration  which  St.  Paul 
designed  to  furnish  of  unparalleled  lowliness  and  condescension.  It 
deserves  to  be  remarked,  too,  that  in  this  sense  "the  form  of  God" 
belongs  equally  to  every  person  who  has  possessed  miraculous  powers 
to  an  extent  not  inferior  to  those  exerted  by  our  Saviour,  which,  as  we 
learn  both  from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  and  from  the  express  language 
of  the  Saviour  himself,  was  the  case  with  his  apostles.  In  consequence 
of  those  powers,  St.  Paul  was  on  one  occasion  made  an  object  of 
idolatry,  which  he  disclaimed  with  the  utmost  vehemence  and  abhor- 
rence ;  so  far  was  he  from  assuming  any  extraordinary  merit  on 
account  of  declining  so  impious  a  distinction.  Besides,  let  me  ask, 
would  such  a  use  of  the  supernatural  succours  afforded  our  Saviour  as 
to  suffer  them  to  be  the  occasion  of  his  being  worshipped  have  pro- 
duced their  withdrawment  ?  If  they  would  not,  there  must  be  some 
legitimate  ground  for  his  being  worshipped  inapplicable  to  every  other 
case.  If  they  would,  what  is  there  admirable  in  his  declining  to  convert 
them  to  a  purpose  which  he  knew  would  issue  in  their  extinction  ? 
Can  the  inspired  writer  be  supposed  for  a  moment  to  introduce,  with 
so  much  pomp  and  solemnity,  a  branch  of  our  Lord's  conduct  which 
the  smallest  portion  of  prudence  sufficiently  accounts  for  1 

"He  made  himself  of  no  reputation,"  or,  more  literally,  "he  emptied 
himself,"  "he  divested  himself,"  the  writer  most  unquestionably  means, 
of  somewhat  which  he  heretofore  possessed.  But  of  what,  on  the 
hypothesis  of  the  simple  humanity  of  Christ,  did  he  divest  himself? 
As  this  clause  commences  the  positive  statement  of  the  instances  of 
his  humility,  preceded  by,  contrasted  with  the  dignity  involved  in  the 
attribute  of  "  being  in  the  form  of  God,"  it  seems  necessary  to  under- 
stand it  in  relation  to  that  prior  dignity.  But  this,  on  the  Socinian 
hypothesis,  is  impossible,  since  they  place  the  form  of  God  in  his 
possession  of  miraculous  energ)',  of  those  supernatural  powers  of 
which,  from  the  time  of  his  entering  on  his  ministry,  he  neither 
divested  himself  at  any  time  nor  suspended  the  exercise.  "  My  Father 
worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work ;"  nor  is  there  the  slightest  intimation 
throughout  the  whole  evangelical  history,  that  his  humility  was  ren- 
dered conspicuous  by  his  declining  the  exercise  of  miraculous  powers. 
Here  then  the  illustration,  upon  the  supposition  we  are  combating, 
completely  fails  at  the  very  outset,  from  the  total  absence  of  that  bold 
and  striking  contrast  which  the  first  member  of  the  sentence  leads  us 
to  expect.  The  form  of  God  is  attributed  to  him  as  the  basis  of  a 
certain  elevation,  let  its  precise  import  be  what  it  may.  And  when 
the  antithetic  form  of  expression  prepares  us  to  expect  something 
opposed  to  it,  our  expectation  is  frustrated,  and  the  form  of  God  is  still 
retained.  Did  this  divesture  consist  of  his  descending  from  a  superior 
station  in  society  ?     But  this  he  never  possessed.     His  worldly  rank 


AND  CONDESCENSION.  27 

and  estimation,  humble  as  it  was,  was  as  great  in  the  last  as  in  the 
first  period  of  his  ministry.  To  decline  a  possible  distinction,  and  to 
lay  aside  a  distinction  already  possessed,  are  certainly  things  very 
distinct ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  conjecture  why,  if  the  former  was  intended, 
the  latter  is  expressed  :  besides  that,  admitting  such  a  confusion  of 
language  to  be  possible,  the  conception  conveyed  bears  no  relation  to 
the  form  of  God. 

The  words  of  the  apostle  evidently  suppose  that  our  Saviour  pos- 
sessed, in  the  first  instance,  some  great  and  extraordinary  distinction ; 
that,  in  the  execution  of  his  commission,  from  motives  of  pure  benevo- 
lence, he  submitted  to  a  state  of  great  comparative  meanness  and 
humiliation.  The  order  of  the  words,  as  well  as  the  very  species  of 
excellence  they  are  designed  to  illustrate  and  enforce,  necessitate  the 
placing  of  the  dignified  attribute  first.  But  on  the  hypothesis  of  the 
simple  humanity  of  Christ,  the  real  order  of  things,  the  actual  course 
of  events,  is  just  the  reverse.  Our  Saviour,  on  that  hypothesis,  was 
elevated  immensely  above  his  native  condition  by  his  delegation  as  the 
Messiah,  and  from  a  state  of  extreme  obscurity  and  poverty,  he  became, 
in  consequence  of  it,  possessed  of  the  form  of  God.  His  poverty  and 
meanness  compose  the  first  stage  of  his  history  -,  and  whatever  eleva- 
tion above  his  equals  he  afterward  possessed,  was  purely  the  effect 
of  his  appointment  to  the  office  of  the  Messiah.  So  that  in  the  office 
he  sustains  he  exhibits  a  marvellous  instance  of  incredible  elevation 
from  meanness,  instead  of  affording  a  striking  example  of  voluntary 
humiliation.  On  the  Socinian  hypothesis,  the  whole  of  what  is  truly 
admirable  is,  that  a  mean  and  obscure  individual  should  have  been 
raised  from  so  much  meanness,  not  that  he  voluntarily  submitted  to  it. 
It  must  be  obvious  to  the  thoughtful  and  intelligent  that  this  hypothesis 
completely  frustrates  the  design  of  the  passage,  and  presents  the  whole 
matter  in  an  inverted  position. 

His  public  undertaking,  in  the  room  of  affording  an  unparalleled 
instance  of  condescending  benevolence,  is  the  greatest  example  of 
eminent  virtue  conducting  to  illustrious  honour  the  world  ever  witnessed. 

In  a  complex  train  of  action,  involving  considerable  space  of  time 
and  a  great  variety  of  events,  if  there  be  any  conspicuous  feature  insisted 
on  in  the  character  of  the  agent,  it  ought  to  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
pervade  the  whole  mass.  The  benevolence  and  condescension  of  our 
Lord  are  uniformly  represented  by  the  inspired  writer  as  actuating  him 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  proceedings,  as  the  chief  spring  of  his 
conduct,  so  as  to  characterize  his  whole  undertaking.  "  Ye  know  the 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  saith  St.  Paul,  "  how  that  tliough  he 
was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  we  through  his 
poverty  might  become  rich."  His  giving  himself  for  the  church 
is  celebrated  as  a  most  interesting  instance  of  condescension  and 
love.  But  if,  apart  from  his  public  engagements,  as  the  great  Teacher 
sent  from  God,  he  possessed  no  separate  nor  original  dignity, — if  to 
•these  engagements  he  is  indebted  for  all  that  distinguished  him  above 
the  meanest  peasant  in  Galilee,  what  candour  or  sobriety  appear  in 
6uch  representations  ?     If  we  listen  to  the  writers  of  the  New  Testa- 


28       ^  ON  THE  SPIRIT  AND  TENDENCY 

raent,  his  undertaking  the  office  he  sustained  was  a  proof  of  matchless 
humility ;  if  we  look  to  the  facts,  we  find  all  the  honour  he  ever  pos- 
sessed was  the  pure  result  of  these  offices.  That  it  is  possible  to 
combine  with  such  views  of  his  character  the  admission  of  an  eminent 
portion  of  virtue,  we  are  far  from  denying ;  but  it  is  not  that  sort  of 
virtue,  nor  includes  any  of  that  sacrihce  of  personal  honour  and  interest, 
which  such  representation  supposes. 


ON  THE  SPIRIT  AND  TENDENCY  OF  SOCINIANrSM. 

Psalm  xix.  7. —  The  law  of  the  Lord  is  per-fect,  converting  the  soul :  the 
testimony  of  the  Lord  is  sure,  making  wise  the  simple. 

The  minute  examination  of  the  minor  parts  of  a  great  and  complex 
object  will  not  suffice  to  give  us  a  just  conception  of  it,  unless  it  is 
joined  with  an  attentive  survey  of  it  as  a  whole.  We  havo  hitherto 
been  occupied  with  the  consideration  of  the  errors  of  the  Socinian  or 
Unitarian  system  in  detail.  We  have  endeavoured  to  evince  the  opposi- 
tion of  several  of  its  fundamental  tenets  to  the  clear,  unequivocal  testi- 
mony of  Scripture ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  inquiry  have  felt  the 
necessity  of  descending  to  minute  distinctions  and  tedious  discussions. 
Could  we  even  suppose  thereasoning  employed  in  the  several  branches 
of  this  extensive  argument  to  have  wrought  all  the  conviction  we  could 
wish,  the  conclusion  might  still  continue  destitute  of  an  adequate  im- 
pression of  the  general  character  and  tendency  of  the  system  against 
which  these  discourses  have  been  directed.  Instead  of  attempting  a 
recapitulation  of  the  topics  discussed  and  the  arguments  adduced,  useless 
as  it  would  possibly  be  if  slight  and  general,  and  insufferably  tedious  if 
accurate  and  extensive,  allow  me  to  close  these  lectures  by  directing 
your  attention  to  some  of  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the 
system  designated  by  the  appellation  of  Modern  Unitarianism. 

I.  It  will  occur  to  the  most  superficial  observer  to  remark,  that  as 
far  as  it  differs  from  the  orthodox,  it  is  almost  entirely  a  negative 
system,  consisting  in  a  bold  denial  of  nearly  all  the  doctrines  which 
other  denominations  are  wont  to  regard  as  the  most  vital  and  the  most 
precious.  It  snatches  from  us  almost  every  thing  to  which  our  affec- 
tions have  been  habituated  to  cling,  without  presenting  them  with  a 
single  new  object. 

It  is  a  cold  negation,  a  system  of  renunciation  and  dissent,  imparting 
that  feeling  of  desolation  to  the  heart  which  is  inseparable  from  the 
extinction  of  ancient  attachments,  teaching  us  no  longer  to  admire,  to 
adore,  to  trust,  or  to  love — but  with  a  most  impaired  and  attenuated 
affection — objects  in  the  contemplation  of  which  we  before  deemed  it 


OF  SOCINIANISM.  29 

safe,  and  even  obligatory,  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  indulgence  of  these 
delightful  emotions. 

Under  the  pretence  of  simplifying  Christianity,  it  obliterates  so  many 
of  its  discoveries,  and  retrenches  so  many  of  its  truths, — so  little  is  left 
to  occupy  the  mind,  to  fill  the  imagination,  or  to  touch  the  heart, — that 
when  the  attracting  novelty  and  the  heat  of  disputation  are  subsided,  it 
speedily  consigns  its  converts  to  apathy  and  indift'erence.  He  who  is 
wont  to  expatiate  in  the  wide  field  of  revelation,  surrounded  by  all  that 
can  gratify  the  sight  or  regale  the  senses,  reposing  in  its  green  pastures 
and  beside  the  still,  transparent  waters,  reflecting  the  azure  of  the 
heavens,  the  lily  of  the  valley,  and  the  cedar  of  Lebanon,  no  sooner 
approaches  the  confines  of  Socinianism,  than  he  enters  on  a  dreary 
and  melancholy  waste.  Whatever  is  most  sweet  and  attractive  in 
religion, — whatever  of  the  grandeur  that  elevates,  or  the  solemnity  that 
awes  the  mind,  is  inseparably  connected  with  those  truths  it  is  the 
avowed  object  of  that  system  to  subvert ;  and  since  it  is  not  what  we 
deny,  but  what  we  believe,  that  nourishes  piety,  no  wonder  it  lan- 
guishes under  so  meager  and  scanty  a  diet.  The  littleness  and  poverty 
of  the  Socinian  system  ultimately  ensures  its  neglect,  because  it  makes 
no  provision  for  that  appetite  for  the  immense  and  magnificent  which 
the  contemplation  of  nature  inspires  and  gratifies,  and  which  even 
reason  itself  prompts  us  to  anticipate  in  a  revelation  from  the  Eternal 
Mind. 

By  stripping  religion  of  its  mysteries,  it  deprives  it  of  more  than 
half  its  power.  It  is  an  exhausting  process,  by  which  it  is  reduced 
to  its  lowest  terra.  It  consists  in  affirming  that  the  writers  of  the 
New  Testament  were  not,  properly  speaking,  inspired,  nor  infallible 
guides  in  divine  matters  ;  that  Jesus  Christ  did  not  die  for  our  sins, 
nor  is  the  proper  object  of  worship,  nor  even  impeccable ;  that  there 
is  7iot  any  provision  made  in  the  sanctification  of  the  Spirit  for  the  aid 
of  spiritual  weakness,  or  the  cure  of  spiritual  maladies  ;  that  we  have 
not  an  intercessor  at  the  right-hand  of  God  ;  that  Christ  is  not  present 
with  his  saints,  nor  his  saints,  when  they  quit  the  body,  present  with 
the  Lord ;  that  man  is  not  composed  of  a  material  and  immaterial 
principle,  but  consists  merely  of  organized  matter,  which  is  totally 
dissolved  at  death.  To  look  for  elevation  of  moral  sentiment  from 
such  a  series  of  pure  negations  would  be  "  to  gather  grapes  of  thorns, 
and  figs  of  thistles," — to  extract  "  sunbeams  from  cucumbers." 

II.  From  hence  we  naturally  remark  the  close  affinity  between  the 
Unitarian  system  and  Deism.  Aware  of  the  off'ence  which  is  usually 
taken  at  observations  of  this  sort,  I  would  much  rather  waive  them, 
were  the  suppression  of  so  important  a  circumstance  compatible  with 
doing  justice  to  the  subject.  Deism,  as  distinguished  from  atheism, 
embraces  almost  every  thing  which  the  Unitarians  profess  to  believe. 
The  Deist  professes  to  believe  in  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ments,— the  Unitarian  does  no  more.  The  chief  difl^erence  is,  that  the 
Deist  derives  his  conviction  on  the  subject  from  the  principles  of  natural 
religion ;  the  Unitarian  from  the  fact  of  Christ's  resurrection.  Both 
arrive  at  the  same  point,  though  they  reach  it  by  different  routes, 


30  ON  THE  SPIRIT  AXD  TENDENCY 

Both  maintain  the  same  creed,  though  on  different  grounds :  so  that, 
allowing  the  Deist  to  be  fully  settled  and  confirmed  in  his  persuasion 
of  a  future  world,  it  is  not  easy  to  perceive  what  advantage  the  Unita- 
rian possesses  over  him.  If  the  proofs  of  a  future  state  upon  Chris- 
tian principles,  be  acknowledged  more  clear  and  convincing  than  is 
attainable  merely  by  the  light  of  nature,  yet  as  the  operation  of  opinion 
is  measured  by  the  strength  of  the  persuasion  whh  which  it  is  embraced, 
and  not  by  the  intrinsic  force  of  evidence,  the  Deist,  who  cherishes  a 
firm  expectation  of  a  life  to  come,  has  the  same  motives  for  resisting 
temptation,  and  patiently  continuing  in  well  doing,  as  the  Unitarian. 
He  has  learned  the  same  lesson,  though  under  a  different  master,  and 
is  substantially  of  the  same  religion. 

The  points  in  which  they  coincide  are  much  more  numerous,  and 
more  important,  than  those  in  which  they  differ.  In  their  ideas  of 
liuman  nature,  as  being  what  it  always  was,  in  opposition  to  the  doc- 
trine of  the  fall;  in  their  rejection  of  the  Trinity,  and  of  all  supernat- 
ural mysteries ;  in  their  belief  of  the  intrinsic  efficacy  of  repentance, 
and  the  superfluity  of  an  atonement ;  in  their  denial  of  spiritual  aids, 
or  internal  grace  ;  in  their  notions  of  the  person  of  Christ ;  and,  finally, 
in  that  lofty  confidence  in  the  sufficiency  of  reason  as  a  guide  in  the 
aft'airs  of  religion,  and  its  authority  to  reject  doctrines  on  the  ground 
of  antecedent  improbability ; — in  all  these  momentous  articles  they 
concur.  If  the  Deist  boldly  rejects  the  claims  of  revelation  in  toto,  the 
Unitarian,  by  denying  its  plenary  inspiration,  by  assuming  the  fallibility 
of  tlie  apostles,  and  even  of  Christ  himself,  and  by  resolving  its  most 
sublime  and  mysterious  truths  into  metaphors  and  allegory,  treads  close 
in  his  steps.  It  is  the  same  soul  which  animates  the  two  systems,  though 
residing  in  different  bodies ;  it  is  the  same  metal  transfused  into 
distinct  moulds. 

Though  Unitarians  repel,  with  sufficient  indignation,  the  charge  of 
symbolizing  with  Deists,  when  advanced  by  the  orthodox,  they  are  so 
conscious  of  its  truth  that  they  sometimes  acknowledge  it  themselves. 
In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Lindsey,  Dr.  Priestley,  speaking  of  the  celebrated 
Jefferson,  President  of  the  United  States  when  he  arrived  at  America, 
says,  "  he  is  generally  reported  to  be  an  unbeliever ;"  he  adds,  "  but 
if  so,  you  know  he  cannot  be  far  from  us." 

(Here  introduce  the  passages  from  Smith's  Testimony,  Vol.  I.) 

There  was  a  certain  period  in  my  life  when  I  was  in  habits  of  con- 
siderable intercourse  with  persons  who,  to  say  the  least,  possessed  no 
belief  in  Christianity.  Of  these,  it  was  never  my  lot  to  meet  with 
one  who  did  not  avow  great  satisfaction  in  the  progress  of  Socinian- 
ism:  they  appeared  to  feel  a  most  cordial  sympathy  "with  it,  and  to 
view  its  triumphs  as  their  own.  They  undoubtedly  considered  it  as 
the  natural  opening  through  which  men  escape  from  the  restraints  of 
revealed  religion  ;  as  the  high  road  to  that  complete  emancipation 
which  awaits  them  in  the  regions  of  perfect  light  and  liberty. 

Whoever  has  attentively  investigated  tlie  spirit  of  modern  infidelity 
must  perceive  that  its  enmity  is  pointed  chiefly  to  those  very  doctrines 
which  Unitarians  deny ;  that  their  dislike  is  not  so  much  to  the  grand 


OF  SOCINIANISM.  31 

notion  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  which  sober  Theista 
admit,  as  to  the  belief  of  the  fall  and  the  corruption  of  human  nature, 
which  are  professed  as  the  basis  of  the  doctrine  of  redemption.  It  is, 
as  it  originally  was,  the  cross  of  Christ  which  is  foolishness  to  these 
Greeks ;  and  here  our  opponents  are  confederated  with  them,  and 
affirm  themselves  most  faithful  and  zealous  allies.  Infidels,  however 
they  may  dissent  from  the  pretensions  to  a  revelation,  will  feel  no 
lively  interest  in  impugning  it  while  it  imposes  no  necessity  of  believing 
what  materially  contradicts  their  prejudices  and  passions.  Their 
quarrel  is  not  so  much  with  the  medium  of  communication  as  with  the 
doctrine  conveyed :  and  here  Socinianism  offers  a  most  amicable  ac- 
commodation, by  assuring  them  of  a  future  state,  in  which  the  perfec- 
tions of  the  Supreme  Being  oblige  him  to  render  them  eternally  happy. 
These  men  are  not  so  perverse  as  to  feel  any  repugnance  to  a  Deity 
who  has  no  punitive  justice,  and  an  eternity  which  has  no  hell.  It  is 
the  constant  boast  of  our  opponents,  that  their  system  gives  them  such 
an  advantage  in  an  attempt  to  win  over  infidels  to  the  Christian  cause, 
by  its  being  purged  of  those  doctrines  which  afford  the  chief  matter 
of  offence ;  and  in  this  representation  there  is  doubtless  some  appear- 
ance of  truth.  But  whether,  upon  that  account,  they  are  likely  to  be 
more  successful  in  converting  [them]  than  ourselves,  may  well  be 
made  a  question.  For,  in  the  first  place,  they  Avill  not  find  it  so  easy 
a  task  as  they  suppose  to  convince  them  that  the  obnoxious  tenets  are 
not  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel ;  and  next,  if  they  should  succeed  in 
this,  the  difference  between  their  system  and  pure  Theism  is  so  slight 
and  inconsiderable,  as  to  make  it  appear  a  matter  of  great  indifference 
which  they  adopt.  Unless  they  are  prepared  to  call  in  question  the 
moral  attributes  of  Deity  and  a  future  state,  they  are  all  in  possession 
of  the  Unitarian  gospel  already,  and  that  by  a  mode  of  acquisition 
more  flattering  to  the  pride  of  reason.  In  a  much  vaunted  seminary, 
or  college,  as  it  was  called,  established  above  thirty  years  back,  for 
the  avowed  purpose  of  propagating  Unitarianism  throughout  the  king- 
dom, I  have  the  highest  authority*  for  affirming  that  a  great  proportion 
of  the  students  became  skeptics  and  unbelievers,  and  of  none  more 
than  from  those  who  attended  the  theological  lectures.  Had  that  insti- 
tution continued,  it  bid  fair  to  become  the  most  prolific  hot-bed  of  infi- 
delity this  country  ever  knew.  Among  those  who  had  an  education 
completely  Socinian,  it  is  matter  of  palpable  observation,  that  infidelity 
has  prevailed  to  a  great  extent ;  nor  will  the  genuine  tendency  of  that 
system  have  an  opportunity  of  completely  developing  itselfj  in  this 
respect,  until  the  existing  generation  is  swept  away.  In  the  denomi- 
nation where  it  chiefly  prevails,  it  has  recently  supplanted  Arianism, 
under  which  the  greater  part  of  its  present  disciples  were  educated,  so 
that  its  influence  in  the  formation  of  character  has  been  shared  with  a 
preceding  system,  which,  however  erroneous,  is  far  removed  from  that 
total  abandonment  of  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  gospel  which  is 
involved  in  the  Socinian  creed. 

*  Hackney  College.    The  authority  here  referred  to  ia  that  of  the  late  Dr.  Alsrahain  Rees,  who 
was  one  of  the  professors. — Ed. 


32  OX  THE  SPIRIT  AND  TENDENCY 

Fas  est  et  ah  hoste  doccri.  Surely  the  complacency  felt  by  the 
avowed  enemies  of  the  Christian  religion  for  a  particular  modification 
of  it,  is  not  without  its  instruction  or  its  warning  ;  since,  allowing  them 
the  ordinary  sagacity  necessary  to  discern  their  own  interests,  we 
may  be  sure  they  perceive  in  the  object  of  their  predilection  the  seeds 
of  ruin  to  the  Christian  cause  ;  that  they  plainly  see  that  Unitarianism 
is  a  stepping-stone  to  inridclity,  and  that  the  first  stage  of  the  progress 
facilitates  and  ahnost  secures  the  next. 

III.  A  third  feature  in  the  Unitarian  system  is  the  unfavourable  in- 
fluence it  exerts  on  the  spirit  of  devotion.  It  appears  to  have  little  or 
no  connexion  with  the  religion  of  the  heart.  Of  all  high  and  raised 
afl'ections  to  God  proudly  ignorant ;  love  to  Christ,  involving  that  ar- 
dent attachment  which  enthrones  him  in  the  soul,  and  subordinates  to 
him  every  created  object,  it  systematically  explodes,  imder  the  pretence 
of  its  being  either  enthusiastic  or  impossible.  Mr.  Belshani,  in  a 
recent  work,  argues  at  large  against  indulging,  or  pretending  to  indulge, 
any  particular  attachment  to  the  person  of  the  Saviour,  such  as  he 
acknowledges  his  immediate  disciples  felt,  but  which,  according  to  him, 
is  no  longer  the  duty  of  Christians  of  the  present  day.  The  only 
reason  he  assigns  for  this  bold  assault  on  the  most  vital  part  of  prac- 
tical Christianity  is  the  invisibility  of  our  Saviour, — a  reason  urged  in 
open  contempt  of  the  sentiments  of  an  inspired  apostle,  "  whom,"  said 
he,  "having  not  seen,  ye  love;  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not, 
yet  believing,  ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory."* 

By  parity  of  reason,  God,  who  is  essentially  hivisible,  must  cease  to 
be  the  object  of  our  affections ;  and  the  obligation  of  loving  him  with 
all  our  heart  and  all  our  strength  is  at  once  cancelled  and  destroyed. 

The  devotional  feelings  inculcated  in  the  Bible  are  intimately  and 
inseparably  interwoven  with  humility  and  gratitude — the  humility  and 
gratitude  of  a  penitent  and  redeemed  sinner.  That  he  who  is  forgiven 
much  will  love  much,  is  the  decision  of  our  Lord ;  while  he  to  whom 
little  is  forgiven  M'ill  love  little. f  But  the  perpetual  tendency  of  the 
Socinian  system  extenuates  the  evil  of  sin,  and  the  magnitude  of  the 
danger  to  which  it  exposes  the  sinner,  and  is  calculated  to  weaken, 
beyond  expression,  the  force  of  the  motives  [they  supply.] 

By  asserting  the  intrinsic  efficacy  of  repentance,  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  merits  of  the  Redeemer,  it  makes  every  man  his  own  Saviour ;  it 
directs  his  atteiuion  to  himself,  as  the  source  to  which  he  ascribes  the 
removal  of  guiU,  and  the  renovation  of  hope ;  nor  will  it  permit  him 
to  adopt,  in  any  obvious  and  intelligible  sense,  the  rapturous  language 
of  the  redeemed,  "  To  him  who  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood."  Taught  to  consider  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  no 
other  light  tlian  as  the  most  perfect  example  and  the  most  enlightened 
of  teachers,  and  believing  that  he  has  already  bestowed  all  the  benefits 
he  is  empowered  to  bestow,  it  is  in  vain  to  look  for  that  consecration 
of  the  heart  to  liis  love,  and  of  all  the  faculties  of  body  and  mind  to 
his  service,  which  may  reasonably  be  expected  from  him  who  looks 

•  1  Pet.  i.  8.  t  Luke  vii.  47. 


OF  SOCINIANISM.  33 

tpon  himself  as  a  Iraphy  of  his  power,  and  as  the  purchase  of  his 
blood.  Not  viewing  himself  as  at  any  time  exposed  to  condemnation, 
you  must  not  expect  him  to  celebrate,  with  elevated  emotion,  the  riches 
of  Divine  grace,  much  less  that  he  should  be  transported  with  gratitude 
to  God  for  the  inestimable  love  evinced  in  the  gift  of  his  Son ;  when 
he  considers  it  a  high  attainment  to  have  learned  that  this  Son  is  a 
mere  man,  on  a  level  with  himself.  The  unhappy  disciple  of  this 
system  is  necessarily  separated  and  cut  off  from  the  objects  most 
adapted  to  touch  the  springs  of  religious  sensibility.  He  knows  nothing 
of  a  transition  "  from  death  unto  life ;"  nothing  of  the  anxieties  of  a 
wounded  and  awakened  conscience,  followed  by  "joy  and  peace  in 
beheving  ;"  nothing  of  that  "  love  of  Christ  which  passeth  knowledge  ;" 
nothing  of  the  refreshing  aids  and  consolations  of  that  Holy  Spirit 
whose  existence  he  denies,  whose  agency  he  ridicules  ;  nothing  of  that 
inefiable  communion  of  spirit  with  God  and  the  Redeemer,  the  true 
element  of  life  and  peace ;  nothing  of  the  earnests  and  foretastes  of 
that  heaven  which  his  system  covers  with  a  dense  and  impenetrable  veil. 

Facts  on  this  subject  concur  with  theory :  for  no  sooner  is  a  min- 
ister of  the  gospel  transformed  into  a  Socinian,  than  he  relinquishes 
the  practice  of  extempore  prayer,  and  has  recourse  to  a  written  form. 
We  are  far  from  condemning  the  use  of  forms,  where  they  are  adopted 
from  a  conscientious  preference  ;  nor  can  we  doubt  that  many  members 
of  the  establishment,  whose  habits  have  combined  with  them  the  most 
devout  associations  and  feelings,  find  them  useful  helps  to  piety.  But, 
that  those  wlio  have  never  used  \hem  before  should  find  them  necessary 
the  moment  they  have  embraced  a  particular  system, — that  they  should 
feel,  as  some  of  the  most  eminent  have  confessed,  an  absolute  inca- 
pacity, from  that  time,  of  praying  without  the  aid  of  a  book,  affords  a 
portentous  indication  of  the  spirit  of  that  system.  To  be  smitten  dumb 
and  silent  in  the  presence  of  that  heavenly  Father  whom  they  ap- 
proached before  with  filial  freedom  and  confidence, — to  be  unable  or 
indisposed  to  utter  a  word  without  artificial  aids,  where  they  were 
wont  to  pour  out  all  their  hearts,  evinces  the  visitation  of  a  new 
spirit,  but  most  assuredly  not  that  Spirit  "  whereby  we  cry,  Abba, 
Father."  Correct,  elegant,  spiritless — replete  with  acknowledgments 
of  the  general  goodness  of  God,  the  bounties  of  his  providence,  and 
his  benign  interposition  in  the  arrangements  of  society,  and  the  success 
of  tbe  arts  and  sciences  which  embellish  and  adorn  the  present  state — 
seldom  will  you  hear  any  mention  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  of  the 
love  of  the  Saviour ;  few  or  no  acknowledgments  of  the  blessings  of 
redemption.  An  earthly,  unsanctified  tincture  pervades  their  devotions, 
calculated  to  remind  you  of  any  thing  rather  than  of  a  penitent 
pleading  for  mercy,   "  with  groanings  that  cannot  be  uttered." 

In  all  other  dissenting  communities,  there  are  meetings  for  the 
express  purpose  of  prayer ;  but  has  any  thing  of  that  nature  ever  been 
heard  of  among  Socinians  ?  If  they  have  any  meetings  out  of  the 
usual  seasons  of  worship,  they  are  debating  clubs,  several  of  which 
have  been  established  among  them  in  the  metropolis  on  the  Lord's  day. 

Among  other  dissenters,  the  religious  observance  of  the  Lord's  dav 

Vol.  ni.— C 


34  Oy  THE  SriRIT  A.\D  TEXDEXCY  OF  SOCINIANISM. 

is  considered  as  of  the  first  iniportance,  and  he  who  made  Hght  of  it 
would  forfeit  with  thoin  all  credit  for  piety.  Among  the  Unitarians  it 
is  the  reverse.  Mr.  Belsham,  who  seems  to  affect  the  character  of  their 
leader,  has  written  vehemently  against  the  observance  of  a  Sabbath, 
denouncing  it  as  one  of  the  most  pernicious  of  popular  errors  ;  and  has 
lost  no  reputation  by  it. 

Another  of  their  principal  writers  has  denounced  public  worship. 
In  short,  it  is  not  easy  to  conjecture  where  these  attacks  will  end,  and 
whether  they  will  suffer  any  of  the  institutions  of  Christianity  to 
remain  unassailed. 

IV.  But  it  is  time  to  advert  to  another  part  of  the  system  of  modern 
Unitarianism,  Avhich,  in  my  humble  opinion,  is  pregnant  with  more 
mischief  and  danger  than  any  of  those  we  have  just  mentioned.  I 
mean  the  fatalism  and  materialism  with  which,  since  Dr.  Priestley's 
time,  it  is  almost  universally  incorporated.  The  first  Socinians  were 
so  jealous  of  every  opinion  which  might  seem  to  infringe  on  the 
freedom  of  the  human  will  and  man's  accountability,  that  they  denied 
that  the  foreknowledge  of  God  extended  to  hmnan  volition  and  con- 
tingent events.  They  carried  Pelagianism  to  its  utmost  length.  The 
modern  Socinians  have  been  betrayed  into  the  contrary  extreme.  They 
assert,  not  only  that  the  foreknowledge  of  the  Deity  is  extended  to 
every  sort  of  events,  but  that  he  has  connected  the  whole  series  of  them 
in  an  indissoluble  chain  of  necessity ;  that  the  Deity  is  the  efficient 
cause  of  all  that  takes  place,  of  evil  volitions  as  well  as  good  ;  that  he 
is,  properly  speaking,  tlie  only  agent  in  the  imiverse ;  that  moral  evil 
is  his  production,  and  his  only  ;  and  that,  strictly  speaking,  no  one  can 
be  said  to  be  accountable  for  any  of  his  actions,  since  they  were  the 
inevitable  result  of  necessary  laws,  and  could  not  possibly  have  been 
otherwise  than  they  were  ;  that  the  human  mind  is  a  machine  governed 
by  principles  to  whose  operations  it  is  perfectly  passive. 

Who  does  not  see,  that  upon  this  theory  the  distinction  between 
virtue  and  vice,  innocence  and  guilt,  is  annihilated,  and  the  foundation 
of  rewards  and  punishments  in  a  future  world  completely  subverted  1 
Agreeably  to  this,  Dr.  Priestley  declares,  in  his  treatise  on  this  subject, 
that  a  perfect  necessitarian  in  other  words,  a  philosopher  of  his  own 
stamp,  has  nothing  to  do  with  repentance  or  remorse.  Let  these  views 
of  human  nature  prevail  universally,  and  a  frightful  dissoluteness  of 
manners,  and  a  consequent  subversion  of  the  whole  fabric  of  society, 
must  infallibly  ensue. 

Alarming  as  these  principles  are,  they  form  but  one  portion  of  the 
perilous  innovations  introduced  by  the  sect  of  modern  Unitarians. 
With  the  dangerous  speculations  already  recited  they  connect  the 
following: — that  the  nature  of  man  is  single  and  homogeneous,  not 
consisting  of  two  component  parts  or  principles,  body  and  soul,  matter 
and  spirit,  but  of  matter  only  ;  that  the  soul  is  the  brain,  and  the  brain 
is  the  soul;  that  nothing  survives  the  stroke  of  dissolution,  but  that  at 
the  moment  the  thinking  powers  of  man  are  extinguished,  all  the 
elements  of  his  frame  are  dissolved,  his  consciousness  ceases,  to  be 
restored  only  at  the  period  of  the  final  resurrection. 


ON  ANGELS.  35 

i^rom  these  premises  it  seems  to  be  a  necessary  inference,  tliat  the 
nope  of  a  future  state  of  existence  is  entirely  delusive  ;  for,  if  the  whole 
man  perishes,  if  all  that  composes  what  I  call  myself  is  dissipated  and 
scattered,  and  I  cease  to  exist  for  ages  as  a  sentient  and  intelligent 
being,  personal  identity  is  lost,  and  being  once  lost,  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  it  ever  restored  without  the  greatest  absurdity.  Thus  the 
very  subject  of  a  future  life,  the  very  thing  of  which  it  is  affirmed, 
perishes  from  under  us,  on  the  Unitarian  hypothesis ;  and  a  future 
state  can  be  predicated  of  any  man  only  in  3,  lax  and  figurative 
sense. 

Matter  is  incessantly  liable  to  mutation ;  the  matter  of  wliich  ouf 
bodies  are  composed  is  so  eminently  so,  that  it  is  generally  thought 
by  physiologists  that  every  particle  of  which  it  is  constituted  disappears, 
and  is  replaced  by  fresh  accession  in  the  course  of  about  seven  years. 
Let  it  be  admitted,  then,  that  the  constitution  of  human  nature  is 
homogeneous,  or,  in  other  words,  that  it  consists  of  matter  only,  and  it 
will  necessarily  follow,  that  in  the  course  of  forty-nine  years  the 
personal  identity  has  been  extinguished  seven  times,  and  that  seven 
different  persons  have  succeeded  each  other  under  the  same  name. 
Which  of  these,  let  me  now  ask,  will  be  rewarded  or  punished  in 
another  life  ? 

Such  are  the  moral  prodigies  which  disfigure  the  system  of  modern 
Unitarianism ;  such  the  hopelessness  of  reconciling  it  with  human 
accountability,  and  the  dispensation  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the 
world  to  come. 

V.  The  unexampled  deference  it  displays  to  human  authority.  This 
may  excite  surprise,  because  there  is  nothing  which  its  abetters  pro- 
claim [witli]  such  loud  and  lofty  pretensions  as  their  unfettered  freedom 
of  thought,  their  emancipation  from  prejudice,  and  their  disdain  of 
human  prescription.  They,  and  they  only,  if  we  believe  them,  have 
unfurled  the  banners  of  mental  independence,  have  purged  off  the  slough 
of  obsolete  opinion  and  implicit  faith,  and  shine  forth  in  all  the  fresh- 
ness, vigour,  and  splendour  of  intellectual  prowess. 

VI.  Their  rage  for  proselytism,  difiicult  to  be  accounted  for  on  their 
principles. 


VI. 

ON  ANGELS. 

Heb.  i.  14. — Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister 
for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ? 

In  this  part  of  the  Epistle,  St.  Paul  is  engaged  in  establishing  the 
superiority  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  angels :  of  this  he  adduces 
various  proofs  out  of  the  ancient  Scriptures  :  the  title  of  Son,  by  which 

C2 


36  ON  ANGELS. 

he  [God]  addresses  the  Messiah  ;  the  command  he  issues,  when  he 
brings  him  into  the  world,  that  all  the  angels  of  God  should  worship 
him :  "  He  maketh  his  angels  spirits,  his  ministers  a  flame  of  fire : 
but  of  the  Son  he  saith,  Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever." 
Nor  did  he  ever  say  to  the  most  exalted  of  these,  "  Sit  on  my  right 
until  I  make  thine  enemies  thy  footstool."  He  then  brings  in  the 
words  of  the  text,  "  Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?" 

As  this  is  one  of  the  most  clear  and  precise  accounts  we  meet  with 
in  the  sacred  volume  of  the  nature  and  offices  of  angels,  it  may  form 
a  proper  basis  for  a  few  reflections  on  that  subject.  This  account 
embraces  two  particulars : 

I.  They  are  ministering  spirits. 

II.  They  are  sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of 
salvation. 

1.  They  are  spirits.  They  have  not  those  gross  and  earthly  bodies 
which  we  possess ;  sluggish,  inactive,  and  incapable  of  keeping  pace 
with  the  nimble  and  more  rapid  movements  of  the  mind. — "  Who 
maketh  his  angels  spirits :  his  ministers  a  flame  of  fire."  They  re- 
semble fire  in  the  refined  subtilty  of  its  parts,  and  the  quickness  and 
rapidity  of  its  operations.  They  move  with  an  inconceivable  velocity, 
and  execute  their  commission  with  a  despatch  of  which  we  are  inca- 
pable of  forming  any  [adequate]  apprehension. 

St.  Paul  styles  them  angels  of  light,  probably  not  without  a  view 
to  the  ease  with  which  they  transport  themselves  to  the  greatest 
distances,  and  appear  and  disappear  in  a  moment.  From  their  being 
called  spirits,  it  is  not  necessary  to  conclude  that  they  have  no  body, 
no  material  frame  at  all :  to  be  entirely  immaterial  is  probably  peculiar 
to  the  Father  of  spirits,  to  whom  we  cannot  attribute  a  body  without 
impiety,  and  involving  ourselves  in  absurdities.  When  the  term  spirit 
is  employed  to  denote  the  angelic  nature,  it  is  most  natural  to  take  it 
in  a  lower  sense,  to  denote  their  exemption  from  those  gross  and 
earthly  bodies  which  the  inhabitants  of  this  world  possess.  Their 
bodies  are  spiritual  bodies,  "  for  there  is  a  natural  body,  and  there  is 
a  spiritual  body ;"  the  latter  of  which  the  righteous  are  to  receive  at 
the  resurrection,  who  are  then  to  be  made  equal  to  the  angels. 

The  passage  just  before  adduced  seems  to  exclude  the  idea  of  the 
utter  absence  of  matter  :  "  who  maketh  his  angels  spirits  :  his  ministers 
a  flame  of  fire." 

2.  These  spirits  are  very  glorious.  They  occupy  a  very  exalted 
rank  in  the  scale  of  being,  and  are  possessed  of  wonderful  powers. 
They  are  celebrated  by  the  Psalmist  as  "  those  who  excel  in 
strength."  To  this  it  may  be  objected,  that  David  in  describing  man, 
represents  him  as  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels :  it  should,  I 
apprehend,  be  rendered,  "  for  a  little  time  lower  than  the  angels,"  that 
is,  during  the  time  he  [the  Sou  of  God]  condescended  to  become 
incarnate.  Their  great  power  is  sufficiently  manifest  from  the  works 
they  have  performed  by  divine  commission : — the  destruction  of  the 
first-born  of   Egypt;  the   overthrow  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah;    the 


ON  ANGELS.  37 

destruction  of  180,000  men  in  Sennacherib's  army.  One  angel 
destroyed  70,000  men,  by  bringing  a  pestilence,  when  David  num- 
bered the  people  of  Israel.* 

Their  appearance  was  such  as  to  fill  the  greatest  of  prophets  with 
consternation  and  liorror.  "  And  there  remained  no  more  strength  in 
me,t  and  my  comeliness  was  turned  into  corruption,  and  I  retained  no 
strength." 

With  ease  an  angel  rolled  away  the  stone,  a  large  fragment  of  rock, 
laid  at  the  door  of  our  Saviour's  sepulchre :  and  at  the  sight  of  him 
the  Roman  guard  trembled,  and  became  as  dead  men. 

"  After  these  things,  I  saw  another  angel  coming  down  from  heaven, 
having  great  power,  and  the  earth  was  lightened  at  his  glory." 

3.  They  are  not  less  distinguished  for  moral  excellence  than  by  the 
possession  of  great  natural  powers.  The  usual  denomination  given  them 
in  the  Scriptures  is,  "  holy  angels."  They  consist  of  such  spints  as 
stood  fast  in  their  integrity,  when  many  of  their  associates  involved 
themselves  in  ruin  by  wilful  rebellion.  They  are  styled  by  St.  Paul 
"  elect  angels,"  who  are  confirmed  in  a  state  of  happiness  by  being, 
along  with  the  church,  reduced  under  one  Head,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Their  confirmation  in  a  state  of  obedience  and  felicity  is  owing  (there 
is  every  reason  to  conclude)  to  their  union  with  him,  and  th«ir  being 
included  in  an  eternal  choice  of  special  election  and  favour. 

They  are  Christ's  holy  angels.  To  this  mystery  there  are  several 
allusions  in  the  Epistles  to  the  Ephesians  and  Colossians  :  "  Having 
made  known  unto  us  the  mystery  of  his  will,  according  to  his  good 
pleasure,  which  he  hath  purposed  in  himself:  that  in  the  dispensation 
of  the  fulness  of  times  he  might  gather  together  in  one  all  things  in 
Christ,  both  which  are  in  heaven  and  which  are  on  earth." 

n.  They  are  ministering  spirhs.  Their  employment  and  office  is 
to  minister  in  the  presence  of  God.  Their  habitation  is  heaven,  that 
is,  the  place  where  God  has  fixed  his  throne  and  manifests  his  glory. 
They  are  emphatically  described  by  this  circumstance,  "  The  angels 
that  are  in  heaven."  There  is,  doubtless,  a  place  in  the  immense 
dominions  of  the  Deity  where  God  is  beheld  in  his  glory,  and  where 
he  is  worshipped  with  the  highest  forms  of  love  and  adoration. 
"  Swear  not  at  all ;  neither  by  heaven,  for  it  is  God's  throne,"  &c.:jl 
Thither  Jesus  ascended  when  he  left  our  world  ;  there  he  sits  on  the 
right-hand  of  the  Majesty  oii  high  ;  and  there  it  is  that  the  holy  angels 
reside,  as  their  fixed  habitation.  From  thence  it  was  the  rebellious 
spirits  were  expelled,  "  who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  but  left  their 
own  habitation."!^  "  Bless  the  Lord,  all  ye  his  angels,  that  excel  in 
strength;  that  do  his  commandments,  hearkening  unto  the  voice  of  his 
word.  Bless  ye  the  Lord,  all  ye  his  hosts  ;  ye  ministers  of  his  that 
do  his  pleasure. "II 

Their  employment  is  to  minister  to  God  in  the  exalted  services  of 
the  celestial  temple.  This  is  the  proper  business  and  happiness  of 
heaven,  and  in  this  the  holy  angels  are  habitually  employed.  To  contem- 

•  2  Sam.  xxiv.  15.  t  Dan.  x.  8.  %  Matt.  v.  34.  §  Jude  6.  |1  Ps.  cUl.  21. 


38  OX  AISTGELS. 

plate  the  perfections,  to  celebrate  the  praises  of  the  Great  Eternal ; 
to  bow  before  him  in  lowly  prostrations,  and  to  render  him  the  honour 
due  unto  his  wonderful  works  in  nature,  providence,  and  grace,  is  their 
proper  employ.  As  more  of  God  is  conspicuous  in  the  mystery  of 
redemption  than  in  any  other  work,  this  will  occupy  a  proportionable 
part  in  their  praises.  "  And  I  beheld,"  saith  St.  John,  "  and  heard  the 
voice  of  many  angels  around  the  throne,  and  around  the  four  living 
creatures,  and  around  the  four-and-twenty  elders,  and  the  number  of 
them  was  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thou- 
sands ;  saying,  with  a  loud  voice,  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain 
to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honour, 
and  glory,  and  blessing." 

It  is  not  for  us  to  conceive  in  what  particulars  the  services  of  heaven 
consist,  after  what  manner  the  glorious  Supreme  will  display  himself, 
and  [by]  what  forms  of  adoration  he  will  be  praised.  These  mysteries 
are  hid  from  us  ;  "  for  who  hath  ascended  up  into  heaven  ?"  Yet  we 
may  be  certain  they  will  be  in  the  highest  degree  pure,  spiritual,  and 
sublime  ;  the  noblest  exercise  of  the  most  exalted  faculties  on  the 
greatest  and  best  of  Beings. 

The  term  ministering  spirits  (^eirovpyiKd)  [used]  here,  signifies  that 
species  of  services  which  is  employed  in  sacred  things.  It  is  true, 
St.  John  declares  that  in  the  New  Jerusalem  he  saw  no  temple,  for  a 
temple  implies  a  building  appropriated  to  the  worship  of  God,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  secular  purposes  to  which  other  edifices  are 
apphed.  In  this  sense  there  will  be  in  heaven  no  temple,  because  the 
whole  of  those  blessed  regions  will  be  filled  with  the  immediate 
presence  of  God,  and  so  be  a  temple.  There  was  no  room  for  a 
separation  of  any  part  to  a  sacred  and  religious  use,  when  all  was 
sacred.  The  reason  St.  John  assigns  for  this  circumstance  suffi- 
ciently explains  his  meaning :  "  And  I  saw  no  temple  therein,  for  the 
Lord  God  and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  thereof." 

On  that  immediate  presence  which  fills  the  heavenly  world,  the 
angels  are  constant  attendants ;  they  continually  stand  before  the 
Divine  Majesty. 

The  most  exact  representation  of  the  heavenly  world  (considered  as 
a  place)  that  was  ever  given  to  men,  was  the  ancient  tabernacle,  formed 
after  the  pattern  given  in  the  Mount.*  The  mercy-seat  was  attended 
with  two  cherubim,  and  tlie  two  curtains  which  formed  the  tabernacle 
were  filled  with  figures  of  cherubim  ;  "  With  cherubim  of  cunning  work 
shall  thou  make  them."t 

In  the  visions  of  the  ancient  prophets,  when  a  glimpse  of  heaven 
was  given,  every  appearance  of  God  was  attended  with  creatures  of 
an  angelic  order.  "A  fiery  stream  issued  forth,  and  came  forth  from 
before  him  ;  thousands  of  thousands  ministered  unto  him,  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  stood  before  him." — (Daniel.)  See  also  Isaiah: 
"  In  the  year  king  Uzzah  died,  I  saw  the  Lord  sitting  upon  a  throne, 
high  and  lifted  up,  and  his  train  filled  the  temple.     Above  it  stood  the 

•  Heb.  ix.  23,  24.  f  Exnd.  xxvi.  1. 


ON   ANGELS.''  39 

seraphim."  Ezekiel  "  beheld  the  cherubim,  over  which  was  a  sapphire 
firmament,  over  which  a  throne  was  seen,  and  one  sitting  upon  it  hke 
the  appearance  of  a  man,  whose  head  was  encircled  with  a  rainbow- 
This,"  he  adds,  "  was  an  appearance  of  the  likeness  of  the  glory  of 
God." 

"  Then  the  Spirit  took  me  up,  and  I  heard  behind  me  a  great  rushing 
sound,  saying,  Blessed  be  the  glory  of  the  Lord  from  his  place.  I 
heard  also  the  noise  of  the  wings  of  the  living  creatures  that  touched 
one  another,  and  the  noise  of  the  wheels  over  against  them,  and  the 
noise  of  a  great  rushing."* 

Our  Lord  warns  us  against  despising  the  least  of  those  who  believe 
on  him,  from  this  consideration,  "  That  their  angels  do  always  behold 
the  face  of  God  in  heaven."  The  angel  who  appeared  to  Zachariah 
thus  announces  himself,  "  I  am  Gabriel,  who  stand  in  the  presence  of 
God." 

Improvement  of  Part  I. 
L  Let  us  reflect  on  the  greatness  of  God,  and  the  glory  of  Christ. 
IL  On  the  dignity  of  religion,  considered  as  constituting  the  em- 
ployment and  felicity  of  such  glorious  spirits. 


Second  Part. 

They  are  sent  forth  to  minister  for  those  who  are  to  inherit  sal- 
vation. 

I.  Though  they  are  so  superior,  they,  with  much  alacrity,  engage 
in  offices  of  love  to  believers,  from  a  consideration  of  the  dignity 
which  awaits  them  ;  they  are  hastening  on  to  possess  salvation. 

They  (believers)  are  soon  to  be  associated  with  them,  to  be  sharers 
of  their  privileges,  partakers  of  their  glory.  Infantine  as  is  their  pres- 
ent weakness,  they  are  considerable  on  account  of  their  future  great- 
ness. The  infant  of  the  family  is  not  neglected  or  despised  by  the 
more  advanced  branches  of  it ;  they  anticipate  the  development  of 
its  faculties.  They  know  the  time  will  arrive  when  it  will  attain  an 
equality  with  themselves.  They  that  shall  be  thought  worthy  to  obtain 
that  world,  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just,  "  shall  be  equal  to  the  angels." 

1.  Though  they  are  now  mortal,  they  are  the  heirs  of  immortality. 

2.  Though  they  are  encompassed  with  infirmities  and  imperfections, 
those  blessed  spirits  well  know  they  will  shortly  become  entirely  like 
Christ. 

3.  Though  they  are  immersed  in  trifling  cares,  and  have  necessarily 
much  intercourse  with  the  things  of  time  and  sense,  they  entertain  noble 
thoughts,  cherish  high  expectations,  and,  having  the  first-fruits  of  the 
Spirit,  groan  earnestly  desiring  to  be  delivered.  And  ever  and  anon 
wet  with  the  dews  of  heaven,  and  anointed  afresh  with  the  Holy  Spirit, 
they  wear  upon  their  spirits  the  Divine  impress,  which  these  blessed 
spirits  distinctly  perceive. 

*  Ezek.  iii.  12, 13. 


40  ON  ANGELS. 

II.  Tlie  intimate  union  of  believers  with  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to 
whom  angels  are  in  innnediate  subjection,  [also]  entitles  them  to  their 
benevolent  offices.  They  are  members  of  Christ,  his  brothers  and 
sisters  ;  they  are  taken  into  a  still  closer  relation  than  the  conjugal 
one  :   and  are  parts  of  that  nature  in  v.'hich  the  Lord  is  glorified. 

The  nature  of  the  benevolent  offices  [angels]  perform  for  the 
church. — They  are  not  the  servants  of  the  church,  but  the  servants 
of  Christ  for  the  benelit  of  the  church.  Their  stated  employment  is 
to  minister  in  heaven,  whence,  on  particidar  occasions,  they  are  sent 
on  benevolent  embassies  for  the  good  of  the  church.  What  are  these 
services  ?  What  have  angels  done,  and  what  are  they  dohig,  for  the 
benelit  and  in  behalf  of  the  heirs  of  salvation? 

1.  The  heirs  of  salvation  are  indebted  to  them  for  much  prophetic 
information,  as  well  as  for  many  important  directions.  See  Daniel. 
Paul  going  to  Macedonia. 

2.  The  heirs  of  salvation  have  often  been  indebted  to  angelic  inter- 
position for  their  protection  in  seasons  of  extreme  danger  ;  for  example, 
Daniel  in  the  lions'  den  ;  Peter's  rescue  from  prison  ;  Peter  and  John, 
(see  Acts  v.) ;  the  deliverance  of  Elisha  atDothan.*  "He  shall  give 
his  angels  charge  over  thee,  lest  thou  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone." 
"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  about  them  that  fear  him."  Many 
secret  deliverances  for  which  we  are  indebted  to  angelic  influence. 

3.  The  support  which  good  men  have  received  in  the  season  of 
extreme  pain  and  sufleruig.  "  An  angel  appeared  unto  him,  strength- 
ening him." 

4.  A  moral  influence,  equal  in  extent,  though  of  an  opposite  nature, 
to  that  which  evil  spirits  exert. 

5.  To  assist  in  dying  moments  ;  to  convey  the  spirit  to  the  mansions 
of  peace :  they  let  in  those  gleams  of  heaven  into  the  soul. 

6.  To  gather  tlie  saints  [together]  in  the  presence  of  Christ  at  the 
last  day,  and  to  vindicate  their  cause  by  a  final  victory  over  their  ene- 
mies. "The  harvest  is  the  end  of  the  world,  and  the  angels  are  the 
reapers."  "  The  Son  of  Man  shall  send  forth  his  angels,  and  shall 
gather  out  of  his  kingdom  all  things  that  offend,  and  them  that  do  hiiquity, 
and  shall  cast  them  into  a  furnace  of  fire," 

Improvement. 
L  How  great  the  dignity  of  real  Christians. 
n.  How  delightful  the  prospect  of  the  heavenly  world. 

*  2  Kings  vi.  15-17. 


ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN  41 

VII. 
ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

1  Pet.  v.  8. — Your  adversary  the  devil  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion, 
seeking  whom  he  may  devour. 

It  is  highly  probable,  independently  of  revelation,  that  there  are 
many  orders  of  beings  superior  to  [man.]*  To  suppose  our  own 
species  to  be  the  highest  production  of  Divine  power  would  indicate 
irrational  and  puerile  presumption.  When  we  consider  the  infinite 
variety  of  creatures  presented  to  our  notice  in  the  descending  scale 
between  us  and  nothing,  it  is  agreeable  to  analogy  to  conceive  the 
number  is  not  less  of  those  which  are  above  us ;  the  probability  of 
which  is  enhanced  by  the  discoveries  now  made  of  the  extent  of  the 
universe,  and  of  the  existence  of  bodies,  compared  to  which  the  globe 
which  we  inhabit  is  but  a  spot.  Whde  there  are  known  to  be  material 
systems  immensely  superior  in  magnitude  to  that  with  which  we  are 
conversant,  what  should  lead  us  to  doubt  that  there  are  in  the  intel- 
lectual world  beings  possessing  an  equal  mental  superiority  ?  It  surely 
will  not  be  pretended  that  there  are  any  properties  discernible  in  man 
that  mark  him  out  as  the  most  transcendent  workmanship  of  Deity, 
the  masterpiece  of  Almighty  power,  or  that  there  is  any  ground  for 
supposing  creative  energy  suspended  its  operations  here,  rather  tlian  at 
any  other  point  in  its  progress.  The  distance  between  us  and  nothing  is 
finite,  yet  the  interval  is  occupied  and  filled  up  with  innumerable  orders 
of  sensitive  beings :  how  improbable  is  it,  then,  that  the  distance 
between  us  and  Deity,  which  is  infinite,  is  an  empty  void  ! 

Nor  is  it  any  just  objection  against  the  supposition  in  question  that 
these  superior  orders  are  not  usually  discernible  by  our  senses.  The 
information  derived  from  our  senses,  aided  and  corrected  by  reflection, 
is  a  sufficient  guide  in  the  practical  concerns  of  life,  but  is  a  very 
uncertain  criterion  by  which  to  determine  the  actual  existence  of 
things  beyond  a  very  narrow  limit.  Of  those  that  are  known  to  exist, 
some  beings  are  so  minute  as  to  elude  their  notice,  others  so  vast  as 
to  exceed  their  grasp.  There  are,  probably,  many  material  substances, 
whose  subtilty  exempts  them  entirely  from  that  cognizance  ;  there  are 
others  which  can  only  be  perceived  by  the  help  of  instruments. 

*  Mr.  Hall  preached  three  sermons  at  Leicester  on  the  personality  and  agency  of  Satan,  besides 
that  which  he  introduced  into  his  series  of  lectures  on  tlie  Socinian  controversy.  The  substance 
of  these  he  also  condensed  into  a  single  sermon,  and  preached  at  Cambridge  in  October,  1823,  and 
afterward  at  Bristol.  Indeed,  he  thought  the  subject  of  so  much  moment,  and  so  strangely 
neglected,  that  he  prepared  his  three  sermons  for  publication  ;  but,  by  some  singular  accident,  the 
manuscript  was  lost,  just  as  he  had  completed  it.  After  an  interval  of  three  or  four  years,  he 
recommenced  the  labour  of  writing  these  sermons,  but  never  finished  it.  Some  imperfect  notes 
have  been  found  since  his  death.  They  appear  to  belong  to  dilTerent  discourses,  and  were  evidently 
written  at  different  times.  Imperfect  as  they  are,  they  open  some  interesting  channels  of  investi- 
gation, and  are  therefore  inserted  in  thi;:  collection. 

For  the  general  course  of  the  author's  reasoning,  see  his  account  of  Lecture  XI.  in  the  summary 
of  his  lectures  on  the  Socinian  controversy,  page  23  of  this  volume.— Ed 


42  ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

Whether  there  is  in  the  universe  any  being  purely  spiritual,  any 
perfectly  detached  from  matter,  e-xcept  the  Great  Supreme,  is  a  question, 
perhaps,  not  easy  to  solve,  nor  is  the  solution  of  it  at  all  essential  to 
our  present  inquiry.  God  is  a  spirit,  and  we  cannot  conceive  of  any 
portion  or  modification  of  matter  as  entering  into  his  essence,  vvitliout 
being  betrayed  into  contradiction  and  absurdity.  In  regard  to  every 
other  class  of  being,  it  is  by  many  conjectured  that  the  thinking  princi- 
ple is  united  to  some  corporeal  vehicle,  through  which  it  derives  its 
perceptions,  and  by  which  it  operates,  while  perfect  spirituality,  utterly 
separate  from  matter  in  any  possible  state,  is  the  exclusive  attribute 
of  Deity.  When  angels  are  spoken  of  as  spirits,  this  mode  of  expres- 
sion may  possibly  denote  no  more  than  that  the  material  vehicle  with 
which  they  are  unhed  is  of  a  nature  highly  subtile  and  refined,  at  a 
great  remove  from  the  flesh  and  blood  which  compose  the  bodily  frame. 
Who  will  presume  to  set  limits  to  the  creative  power  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  matter,  or  affirm  that  it  is  not,  in  the  hand  of  its  Author, 
susceptible  of  a  refinement  which  shall  completely  exclude  it  from  the 
notice  of  our  senses  ?  He  who  compares  the  subtilty  and  velocity  of 
light  with  grosser  substances  which  are  found  in  the  material  system, 
will  be  reluctant  to  assign  any  bounds  to  the  possible  modifications  of 
matter,  much  more  to  affirm  there  can  be  none  beyond  the  compre- 
hension of  our  corporeal  organs. 

However  probable  the  supposition  of  the  existence  of  creatures  of  a 
nature  more  exalted  than  our  own,  nothing  can  be  affirmed  with 
certainty  on  the  subject  beyond  the  dictates  of  revelation.  In  regard 
to  a  class  of  beings  which  are  confessedly  not  objects  of  any  of  our 
senses,  the  evidence  of  their  existence  (if  they  exist  at  all)  must  be 
derived  from  Divine  testimony.  Abstract  reasoning,  however  profound 
and  accurate,  presents  nothing  to  the  mind  but  the  relations  of  its 
own  ideas  ;  while  for  our  knowledge  of  what  exists  without  us  we  are 
entirely  indebted  to  observation  and  experiment.  But  neither  obser- 
vation nor  experiment  can  extend  to  those  departments  of  the  universe 
that  lie  out  of  the  reach  of  our  senses.  The  province  of  philosophy, 
whether  physical  or  mental,  is  to  make  an  accurate  survey  of  the 
mind  and  of  matter,  and  to  discover  the  laws  to  which  they  are  subjected. 
To  ascertain  the  laws  of  the  material  creation,  the  judicious  inquirer 
not  only  diligently  notices  the  appearances  that  present  themselves, 
but  puts  the  subject  of  his  investigation  into  artificial  situations,  whence 
new  appearances  result ;  this  mode  of  inquiry  is  styled  experimental. 
In  mental  philosophy  a  diff'erent  method  must  be  adopted.  Mind 
cannot,  like  matter,  be  divided,  compounded,  or  decomposed,  by 
subjecting  it  to  the  action  of  external  agents;  and  consequently, 
there  is  here  no  room  for  experiment,  properly  so  called.  All 
that  can  be  done  is  carefully  to  observe  the  processes  of  thought  and 
of  emotion,  and  by  attending  to  the  operation  of  our  mental  faculties, 
to  arrive  at  some  general  conclusions,  the  justice  of  which  must,  in 
every  instance,  be  decided  by  individual  consciousness. 

This  inconvenience,  inseparable  from  all  attempts  to  investigate  the 
structure  of  the  human  mmd,  must,  in  my  humble  opinion,  preclude 


ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN.  43 

the  possibility  of  much  original  discovery,  and  will,  probably,  prevent 
metaphysics  from  ever  obtaining  the  certainty  and  stability  of  science. 
While  investigating  the  laws  of  matter,  we  can  vary  the  situations  in 
which  it  is  placed  as  much  as  we  please  [within  certain  practical 
limits,]  and  retain  it  as  long  under  our  view  ;  but  mental  phenomena 
form  a  Proteus,  which  is  continually  changing  its  aspect,  and  the 
objects  of  our  observation  are  continually  gliding  away  from  us.  Yet, 
while  we  acknowledge  the  incompetency  of  reason  to  ascertain  the 
existence  of  a  class  of  creatures  superior  to  ourselves,  and  that  all  we 
can  arrive  at  is  a  probable  conjecture,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
reason  is  equally  incompetent  to  determine  the  contrary.  If  it  is 
unable  to  build,  it  is,  on  the  very  same  account,  unable  to  destroy ; 
whatever  improvement  philosophy  may  receive,  however  successful 
and  brilliant  its  career,  its  conclusions,  in  no  instance,  apply  to  an 
economy  which,  being  confessedly  supernatural,  is  beyond  its  sphere, 
and  governed  by  laws  totally  different  from  those  which  it  is  its  business 
to  explore. 

Were  all  the  secrets  of  the  material  world  laid  open,  and  the  whole 
structure  of  the  human  mind,  with  all  the  laws  of  thought,  volition, 
and  emotion  perfectly  developed  and  explained,  we  should  not  be  a 
step  nearer  to  a  solution  of  the  question  under  our  present  consider- 
ation, not  at  all  more  qualified  to  determine  whether  there  be  an  order 
of  superior  intelligences,  or  what  the  station  they  occupied,  or  the 
faculties  by  which  they  were  distinguished.  In  short,  the  utmost  that 
philosophy  can  achieve  is  to  make  us  acquainted  with  human  creatures, 
and  with  some  of  the  laws  which  govern  the  material  and  visible 
world.  Whenever  we  extend  our  views  beyond  this,  we  have  no  data 
to  proceed  upon,  [but]  are  all  at  once  in  the  region  of  doubt  and 
conjecture.  It  is  a  province  to  which  the  principles  [of  philosophy] 
cease  to  apply  :  ingenuity  may  amuse  itself  with  endless  suppositions, 
and  fancy  fill  the  void  with  splendid  pictures,  but  as  to  discovery,  the 
intellect  of  a  Newton  is  upon  the  same  level  with  that  of  a  child. 

It  follows  from  hence,  that  the  attempt  to  set  aside  the  doctrine  on 
this  subject,  derived  from  Scripture,  under  the  notion  of  its  being 
unphilosophical,  is  puerile  and  unmeaning.  The  truth  is,  that  it  is  in  no 
other  sense  unphilosophical,  except  that  philosophy  has  nothing  to 
do  with  it ;  that  it  implies  supernatural  economy,  to  which  hs  principles 
are  totally  inapplicable,  and  which  it  can  neither  affirm  nor  deny. 
Here,  if  anywhere,  we  must  have  recourse  "  to  the  law  and  to  the 
testimony ;"  if  they  speak  not  according  to  them,  "  there  is  no  light 
in  them." 

Let  nie  briefly  advert,  then,  to  the  statements  of  the  New  Testament 
on  this  subject.  I  shall  content  myself  with  presenting  the  reader 
with  a  mere  outline,  without  attempting  to  exhaust  the  information 
which  they  impart. 

The  New  Testament  informs  us,  that  there  is  an  order  of  intelligent 
beings  superior  to  the  human  race,  which  it  usually  designates  by  the 
name  of  angels, — a  name  descriptive  of  their  office,  rather  than  their 
nature ;  that  they  are  endowed  with  very  elevated  powers  and  capacities  ; 


44  ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

that  pan  of  these,  at  a  former  [period,]  swerved  from  their  allegiance 
to  the  "  blessed  and  only  potentate,"  on  which  account  they  lost  their 
first  estate  ;  that  of  these,  one  of  pre-eminent  rank  and  dignity  took  the 
lead  in  the  revolt ;  that  under-the  name  of  Satan  he  continues  to  rule 
the  rest,  who  are  styled  his  angels  ;  that  having  established  an  infernal 
empire,  he  has  ever  been  engaged  in  a  malignant  and  implacable  oppo- 
sition to  the  will  of  God  ;  that,  envious  of  the  happiness  of  our  first 
parents,  under  the  disguise  of  a  serpent  he  templed  the  woman  to 
violate  the  Divine  prohibition,  by  eating  the  forbidden  fruit,  whence  we 
derived  a  corrupt  and  mortal  nature ;  that  the  same  evil  spirit  who  is 
styled  "  the  god  of  this  world,"  the  "  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air," 
perpetually  exerts  himself  in  seducing  men  to  sin ;  that  he  succeeded 
in  effacing  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  establishing  idolatry  throughout 
the  world ;  that  Jesus  Christ  was  appointed  by  his  divine  Father  to 
be  the  antagonist  of  Satan,  and  to  "  destroy  his  works  ;"  and  that,  before 
the  close  of  time,  his  dominion  will  be  established  upon  the  ruin  of 
that  of  Satan,  and  the  world  restored  to  happiness  and  to  God.  This, 
as  it  appears  to  me,  is  a  fair  outline  of  the  doctrine  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment on  this  mysterious  subject.  In  a  word,  Clirist  and  Satan  are 
represented  in  the  Scriptures  as  the  heads  of  two  opposite  empires  ; 
the  one 'the  empire  of  light  and  holiness,  the  other  of  darkness  and 
sin ;  the  one  embracing  all  the  elements  of  moral  good,  the  other 
all  those  of  moral  evil ;  while  the  whole  human  race  are  divided  by 
their  sway. 

To  a  pliilosophical  mind,  not  imbued  with  the  light  of  revelation, 
such  a  view  of  the  moral  state  of  the  world  will,  probably,  appear 
strange  and  portentous :  nothing  is  easier  than  to  suggest  plausible 
objections  against  it.  It  may  be  admitted  that  it  is  not  such  a  repre- 
sentation as  reason,  left  to  itself,  would  have  prompted  us  to  antici- 
pate. This  is  a  circumstance,  however,  which,  in  judging  of  [such 
matters,]  is  entitled  to  little  attention  ;  whatever  their  previous  improb- 
ability, they  must  be  received  or  rejected  according  to  the  amount  of 
evidence  adduced  for  their  support.  Even  in  the  affairs  of  ordinary 
life,  our  previous  conceptions  of  improbability  are  found  to  afford  no 
criterion  of  truth,  much  less  can  any  reliance  be  placed  on  them  la 
judging  of  the  laws  of  a  superior  and  supernatural  economy. 

In  asserting  the  personality  and  agency  of  Satan,  we  are  not,  it 
should  be  remembered,  proposing  to  our  reader  a  speculation  in  phi- 
losophy ;  we  are  asserting  a  fact  beyond  the  limits  of  its  jurisdiction ; 
a  fact  for  which  we  profess  to  produce  no  other  evidence  besides  the 
declarations  of  Scripture.  If  its  testimony  is  not  sufficient  to  decide 
the  question,  we  are  out  at  sea,  nor  is  it  possible  to  specify  what 
doctrines  we  are  warranted  to  receive  on  its  authority ;  especially 
when  we  consider  that  to  enlarge  our  knowledge  of  the  invisible  world 
would  appear  to  be  the  proper  business  of  a  revelation,  whose  ex- 
clusive glory  it  is  to  bring  "  life  and  immortality  to  light."  We  have 
no  controversy,  at  present,  with  those  whose  lax  notions  of  inspiration 
imbolden  them  to  reject  the  express  testimony  of  an  apostle.  We 
assume,  as  granted,  the  truths  of  inspiration,  so  far,  at  least,  that  thejr 


ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN.         45 

may  be  safely  trusted  in  the  annunciation  of  Christian  doctrine ;  and 
all  we  shall  attempt  is,  to  establish  that  literal  interpretation  of  their 
language  on  the  subject  under  our  present  consideration,  wherein  we 
infer  the  personal  existence  and  agency  of  Satan. 


There  is  no  necessary  alliance  between  moral  rectitude  and  intel- 
lectual elevation ;  nor  need  we  go  far  in  search  of  high  intellectual 
vigour  combined  in  the  same  individual  with  a  portentous  degree  of 
pravity.  In  free  and  voluntary  agents,  we  learn,  from  constant  obser- 
vation, that  the  greatest  range  and  comprehension  of  intellect  is  no 
security  against  obliquity  of  will ;  nor  is  it  at  all  certain  that  a  pre-emi- 
nent degree  of  mental  superiority  may  not,  under  certain  circumstances, 
become  itself  a  source  of  temptation.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  only 
order  of  rational  creatures  with  which  our  experience  has  brought  us 
acquainted  have,  we  are  certain,  fallen  from  rectitude  ;  and  therefore, 
whatever  other  conclusion  we  nuiy  draw  from  that  fact,  it  ought,  on  the 
principles  of  analogy,  to  facilitate  our  belief,  on  proper  evidence,  that 
a  similar  catastrophe  has  involved  a  distinct  and  superior  order. 
Whatever  difticulties  may  accompany  [the  question  of]  the  origin  of 
evil,  and  however  incompetent  we  may  be  to  conceive  how  the  transi- 
tion is  effected  from  innocence  to  guilt,  or  how  to  reconcile  its  foresight 
and  permission  with  divine  rectitude  and  human  freedom,  as  this  is 
not  the  place  where  they  [these  difficulties]  first  occur,  they  are  not 
entitled  to  be  considered  as  obje^-tions  against  the  doctrine  which  we 
are  endeavouring  to  support.  They  exist  exactly  to  the  same  extent 
in  relation  to  the  fall  of  man,  of  which  we  have  experimental  evidence. 
The  doctrine  which  affirms  the  existence  of  evil  spirits  of  a  superior 
order,  who  have  sunk  themselves  into  perdition  by  disobeying  their 
Maker,  is  perfectly  analogous  to  the  history  of  the  only  species  of 
rational  creatures  with  which  we  are  acquainted;  we  find  its  counter- 
part in  ourselves. 


There  is  one  objection  which  has  been  frequently  urged  against  the 
popular  view  of  this  subject,  which  it  will  be  proper  to  notice  before 
we  proceed  further  in  the  discussion,  lest  the  prejudice  it  may  [excite] 
should  impair  the  conviction  which  the  evidence  might  otherwise  pro- 
duce. It  has  been  said,  that  to  ascribe  to  Satan  such  an  interference 
in  the  moral  concerns  of  the  world  as  is  implied  in  his  incessantly 
tempting  men  to  sin,  is  to  suppose  him  omnipresent,  a  supposition 
repugnant  to  the  nature  of  a  finite  being.  It  must  be  confessed,  the 
Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  teach  us  to  conceive  of  satanic  agency 
as  concurring  in  almost  every  act  of  deliberate  sin  :  he  is  said  to  have 
filled  the  heart  of  Ananias  ;  to  have  entered  into  Judas,  "  after  he  had 
taken  the  sop  ;"  and  to  be  "  the  god  of  this  world,  who  worketh  mightily 
with  the  children  of  disobedience."  To  infer  from  thence,  however, 
that  any  proper  omnipresence  is  attributed  to  this  apostate  spirit  be- 
trays inattention  to  the  obvious  meaning  of  the  inspired  writers. 


48  ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

We  zte  taught  to  conceive  of  Satan  as  the  head  of  a  spiritual  tinpii";^ 
of  great  extent,  and  comprehending  within  itself  innumerable  subor- 
dinate agents.  The  term  Satan,  in  application  to  this  subject,  is  inva- 
riably found  in  the  singular  number,  implying  that  there  is  one  desig- 
nated by  that  appellation.  His  associates  in  the  primeval  rebellion 
are  spoken  of  in  the  plural  number,  and  are  denominated  his  angels. 
Thus,  the  punishment  reserved  for  them  at  the  close  of  time  is  said 
to  be  "  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  What  their  number 
may  be  it  is  in  vain  to  conjecture ;  but  when  we  reflect  on  the  magni- 
tude of  the  universe,  and  the  extensive  and  complicated  agency  in 
which  they  are  affirmed  to  be  engaged,  we  shall  probably  be  inclined 
to  conjecture  that  it  far  exceeds  that  of  the  human  race. 

In  describing  the  affairs  of  an  empire  it  is  the  uniform  custom  of 
the  historian  to  ascribe  its  achievements  to  one  person,  to  the  ruling 
mind  under  whose  auspices  they  are  performed,  and  by  w^hose  authority 
they  are  effected :  as  it  is  the  will  of  the  chief  which,  in  absolute 
monarchies,  gives  unity  to  its  operations  and  validity  to  its  laws,  and 
to  whose  glory  or  dishonour  its  good  or  ill  fortune  redound  ;  as  victo- 
ries and  defeats  are  ascribed  to  him  who  sustains  the  supreme  power, 
without  meaning  for  a  moment  to  insinuate  that  they  were  the  result 
of  his  individual  agency.  Thus,  in  relating  the  events  of  the  last 
war,  the  ruler  of  France  would  be  represented  as  conducting  at  once 
the  most  multifarious  movements  in  the  most  remote  parts  of  Europe, 
where  nothing  more  was  intended  than  that  they  w-ere  executed, 
directly  or  indirectly,  by  his  order.  He  thus  becomes  identified  with 
his  empire,  and  spoken  of  as  though  he  pervaded  all  its  parts.  Thus 
the  sovereign  of  Great  Britain,  by  fiction  of  speech  perfectly  under- 
stood, is  represented  as  the  direct  object  of  every  offence,  and  as 
present  in  every  court  of  law,  conscience,        *  *  * 


Conceiving  Satan,  agreeable  to  the  intimations  of  the  word  of  God, 
to  be  the  chief  or  head  of  a  spiritual  dominion,  we  easily  account  for 
the  extent  of  the  agency  he  is  affirmed  to  exert,  in  tempting  and  se- 
ducing the  human  race  ;  not  by  supposing  him  to  be  personally  pr^nt 
wherever  such  an  operation  is  carrying  on,  but  by  referring  it  to  his 
auspices,  and  considering  it  as  belonging  to  the  history  of  his  empire. 
As  innumerable  angels  of  light  fight  under  the  banners  of  the  Redeemer, 
so,  there  is  every  reason  to  conclude,  the  devil  also  is  assisted  by  an 
equally  numerous  host  of  his  angels,  composing  those  principalities  and 
powers  over  which  Jesus  Christ  triumphed,  in  the  making  "  a  show  of 
them  openly."  On  this  principle,  tlie  objection  we  are  considering  falls 
entirely  to  the  ground,  and  no  more  ubiquity  or  omnipresence  is  attrib- 
uted to  Satan  by  our  system  than  to  Alexander,  Caesar,  or  Tamerlane, 
whose  power  was  felt,  and  their  authority  acknowledged,  far  beyond 
the  limits  of  their  personal  presence. 

The  attentive  reader  of  Scripture  will  not  fail  to  remark,  that  the 
statement  of  the  existence,  the  moral  propensities,  and  the  agency  of 
Satan  is  extended  nearly  through  the  whole  of  the  sacred  volume, 


ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN.  47 

from  Genesis  to  the  Revelations.;  that  its  writers,  in  their  portraiture 
of  our  great  adversary,  employ  the  same  images,  and  adhere  to  the 
same  appellations  throughout ;  that  a  complete  identity  of  character  is 
exhibited,  marked  with  the  same  features  of  force,  cruelty,  malignity, 
and  fraud.  He  is  everywhere  depicted  as  alike  the  enemy  of  God 
and  man ;  who,  having  appeared  as  a  serpent  in  the  history  of  the 
fall,  is  recognised  by  St.  Paul  under  the  same  character,  in  express 
allusion  to  that  event,*  and  afterward  by  St.  John,  in  the  Apocalypse, 
as  "  that  old  serpent  the  devil,  and  Satan,  which  deceiveth  the  whole 
world."! 

We  have,  therefore,  just  the  same  evidence  of  the  real  personality 
of  Satan,  as  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  exactly  of  the  same  kind  ;  both  are 
described  by  inspired  persons  ;  to  both,  volitions,  purposes,  and  per- 
sonal [characteristics]  are  ascribed.  A  uniformity  of  representation, 
an  identity  of  cliaracter,  distinguished  respectively  by  the  most  oppo- 
site moral  qualities,  equally  pervade  the  statements  of  Scripture  as  to 
each,  to  such  a  degree,  that  supposing  the  sacred  writers  to  have 
designed  to  teach  us  the  proper  personality  of  Satan,  it  is  not  easy  to 
conceive  what  other  language  they  could  have  adopted.  Notwith- 
standing, however,  this  accumulation  of  evidence,  there  are  those  who 
contend  that  all  that  is  said  on  this  subject  is  figurative,  and  that  the 
devil,  or  Satan,  is  a  mere  prosopopoeia,  or  personification  ;  but  what  it 
is  designed  to  personify  they  are  not  agreed  ;  some  affirmmg  one  thing 
and  some  another,  according  to  the  caprices  of  their  fancy,  or  the 
exigences  of  their  system.  The  solution  most  generally  adopted  by 
our  modern  refiners  in  revelation  is,  that  Satan  is  a  figure  or  personi- 
fication of  the  principle  of  evil.  For  the  benefit  of  the  illiterate  part 
of  my  audience  it  may  be  proper  to  remark,  that  a  personification  is 
a  figure  of  rhetoric  or  of  poetry,  by  which  we  ascribe  sentiment,  lan- 
guage, and  action  to  things  which,  properly  speaking,  are  utterly  inca- 
pable of  these :  for  example,  Job,  in  a  lofty  strain  of  poetry,  inquiring 
where  is  the  place  of  wisdom, — "Man,"  saith  he,  "knoweth  not  the 
price  thereof;  neither  is  it  found  in  the  land  of  the  living.  The  depth 
saith.  It  is  not  in  me,  and  the  sea  saith.  It  is  not  with  me.  Destruction 
and  death  say,  We  have  heard  the  fame  thereof  with  our  ears^X  In 
this  bold  personification  of  the  Depth,  the  Sea,  Destruction,  and  Death, 
there  is  grandeur  and  imagination,  but  no  obscurity ;  every  one  per- 
ceives, that  in  bestowing  sentiment  and  language  on  these  natural 
objects,  the  writer  merely  obeys  the  impulse  of  poetic  enthusiasm. 
St.  Paul,  on  several  occasions,  makes  use  of  the  same  figure,  and  per- 
sonifies the  Law,  the  Flesh,  and  other  things  of  an  abstract  nature, 
and  no  one  mistakes  his  meaning.  The  legitimate  use  of  this  figure 
is,  to  give  vivacity  and  animation  to  the  exhibition  of  sentiment;  every 
sober  writer  employs  it  sparingly  and  occasionally,  and  will  rarely,  if 
ever,  have  recourse  to  it,  until  he  has  elevated  the  imagination  of  his 
reader  to  a  pitch  which  prepares  him  to  sympathize  with  the  enthu- 
siasm it  betrays.     A  personification  never  dropped,  nor  ever  explained 

*  2  Cor.  xi.  3.  t  Rev.  xii.  9.  %  Job  xxviii.  12-14,  22, 


48  ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

by  the  admixture  of  literal  forms  of  expression  in  the  same  connexion, 
is  an  anomaly,  or  rather  absurdity,  of  which  there  is  no  example  in 
the  writings  of  men  of  sense.  Of  all  the  ligures  of  speech  by  which 
language  is  varied  and  enriched,  the  personification  is  perhaps  the 
most  perspicuous ;  nor  is  there  an  instance  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
range  of  composition,  sacred  or  profane,  in  which  it  was  so  employed 
as  to  make  it  doubtful  whether  the  writer  intended  to  be  understood 
in  a  literal  or  figurative  sense.  Let  those  who  deny  the  existence  of 
Satan  adduce,  if  they  are  able,  another  example  from  any  author 
whatever,  ancient  or  modern,  sacred  or  profane,  in  which  this  figure  is 
employed  in  a  manner  so  enigmatical  and  obscure,  as  to  have  been 
interpreted  for  ages  in  a  literal  sense.  There  is  a  personification 
spreading  itself  through  the  whole  Bible,  if  we  believe  these  men, 
[now]  discovered  for  the  first  time,  in  writings  which  have  been  studied 
by  thousands,  possessed  of  the  most  acute  and  accomplished  intellect, 
for  eighteen  hundred  years,  without  one  of  them,  during  all  these  ages, 
suspecting  that  it  existed.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that  a  more 
untenable  position  was  never  advanced  ;  nor  one  which,  if  they  really 
believe  that  the  sacred  writers  meant  to  be  understood  figuratively, 
evinces  a  more  unpardonable  inattention  to  the  operations  of  thought, 
and  the  laws  of  composition.  On  any  other  subject  but  religion,  such 
a  style  of  criticism  could  not  fail  to  expose  its  authors  to  merited 
derision. 

But  let  us,  for  a  moment,  waive  the  other  objections  to  this  solution, 
and,  admitting  it  to  be  possible,  examine  how  far  it  will  answer  its 
purpose,  by  applying  it  to  some  of  the  principal  passages  which  treat 
of  the  agency  of  Satan.  It  is  necessary  to  forewarn  my  hearers,  that 
the  devil,  or  Satan,  according  to  the  notion  of  our  opponents,  is  by  no 
means  a  personification,  universally,  of  one  and  the  same  thing.  It  is 
a  Proteus  that  assumes  so  many  shapes  as  almost  to  elude  detection. 
Most  commonly,  it  denotes  the  principle  of  moral  evil ;  sometimes, 
however,  it  stands  for  the  heathen  magistrates,  sometimes  for  the 
Jewish  priests  and  scribes,  and  at  others  for  the  personal  opponent 
of  St.  Paul  at  Corinth. 

Let  us  first  apply  this  solution  to  our  liOrd's  temptation  in  the  wil- 
derness. "  Then,"  says  Matthew,  "  was  Jesus  led  up  of  the  Spirit 
into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted  of  the  devil."*  This,  our  opponents 
tell  us  with  great  confidence,  was  a  visionary  scene,  and  their  reason 
for  it  is  curious  enough.  It  is  the  form  of  the  expression,  "  Jesus  was 
led  up  by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness."  Mark  has  it,  "  sendeth  him 
into  the  wilderness."!  On  this  principle  of  interpretation,  whatever  is 
represented  as  performed  by  Christ  under  the  agency  of  the  Spirit 
must  be  understood  as  visionary  ;  and  when  it  is  said  "  he  entered  in 
the  power  of  the  Spirit  into  Galilee,"  it  must  be  understood  as  intending, 
not  a  real,  l)ut  a  fictitious  or  visionary  removal.  It  is  true  tiiat  Ezekiel 
speaks  of  himself  as  brought  to  Jerusalem,  in  order  to  witness  the 
abominations  practised  there,  while  it  is  evident  his  actual  abode  was 

*  Matl.iv.  1.  t  Marki.  12. 


ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN.  49 

still  in  Babylon ;  but  that  no  mistake  may  arise,  he  repeatedly  assures 
us  that  it  was  in  the  visions  of  God.  But  no  such  intimation  is  given 
in  the  instance  before  us.  It  has  all  the  appearance  of  a  litsral  matter 
of  fact,  and  as  such  it  has  been  currently  received  by  the  church  of 
God.  Let  it  be  admitted,  however,  for  argument's  sake,  to  have  been 
a  visionary  representation ;  the  question  still  recurs.  What  is  meant 
by  the  tempter  in  this  scene  ?  and  whether  any  of  the  solutions  which 
have  been  given  can  possibly  be  admitted.  The  devil  here  cannot  be 
intended  to  denote  the  pagan  magistrates,  or  Jewish  high-priests  or 
scribes,  because  our  Lord  was  alone.  As  little  can  it  mean  the  princi- 
ple of  evil.  The  principle  of  evil  must  be  the  principle  of  some  mind  ; 
it  cannot  subsist  apart.  Where,  in  this  instance,  is  the  mind  in  which 
it  inhered  ?  None  were  present  but  the  Saviour  and  the  tempter  ;  if 
the  tempter  was  not  a  person,  but  the  principle  of  evil,  that  principle 
must  have  belonged  to  the  Saviour  himself;  it  must  have  consisted 
of  some  sinful  bias,  some  corrupt  propensity  in  himself,  with  which  he 
maintained  an  arduous  struggle.  But  this  is  refuted  by  the  concurrent 
testimony  of  the  sacred  writers,  who  affirm  him  to  be  "  holy,  harmless, 
undefiled,  and  separate  from  sinners  ;"*  who  emphatically  designate 
him  under  the  character  of  him  "that  is  holy,  him  that  is  true."t 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  our  modern  Socinians  have  not  rushed  10  that 
extreme  of  impiety  to  impute  a  principle  of  evil  to  the  mind  of  the 
immaculate  Lamb  of  God,  "  in  whom  was  no  sin."i  And  yet,  without 
this,  no  intelligible  account  can  be  given  of  the  temptation,  except  that 
which  has  been  universally  received  in  the  church. 

Let  us  apply  their  theory  to  another  very  important  passage  in  the 
sixth  chapter  of  the  Ephesians.  We  there  find  the  following  exhort- 
ation :  "  Put  on  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  stand 
against  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  For  we  wrestle  not  with  flesh  and 
blood,  but  against  principalities  and  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the 
darkness  of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places." 
By  these  principalities  and  powers  our  modern  Socinians  tell  us  we 
are  to  understand  a  general  personification  of  all  wicked  opposition  to 
the  progress  of  Christianity,  whether  from  the  civil  or  ecclesiastical 
power,  and,  in  the  present  instance  more  particularly,  "the  opposhion 
of  Jewish  priests  and  rulers."^  But  how,  we  ask,  is  this  comment 
consistent  with  the  negative  branch  of  St.  Paul's  assertion,  "  for  we 
wrestle  not  with  flesh  and  blood  ?"  Flesh  and  blood  is  a  very  common 
form  of  expression  in  the  sacred  writings,  employed  to  denote  the 
human  race,  or  mankind.  Thus  our  Lord  tells  Peter,  "Flesh  and 
blood  hath  not  revealed  this  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  ;"||  evidently  intending  to  afiirm,  that  he  did  not  derive  his 
information  from  men,  but  from  God.  "  Immediately,"  says  Paul,  "  I 
consulted  not  with  flesh  and  blood  ;"F  that  is,  he  consulted  no  human 
authorhies ;  "  nor  did  I  go  u])  to  Jerusalem,"  he  adds,  "  to  those  that 
were  apostles  before  me."  The  first  part  of  the  apostle's  proposition 
then  evidently  is,  that  the  opposition  he  had  chiefly  to  sustain  was  not 

*  Heb.  vii.  26.  t  Rev.  iii.  7.  J  1  John  iii.  5. 

^  Improved  Version,  p.  4501    i|  Matt.  xvi.  17.  V  Gal.  i.  16 

Vol.  III.— D 


60  ON  THE  PERSONALITY  OF  SATAN. 

from  men,  nor  from  adversaries  of  the  human  rank  and  order.  The 
question  naturally  arises,  From  what  then  1  He  adds,  "  From  princi- 
palities and  powers,  and  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world,"  or, 
according  to  Griesbach,  "  of  this  darkness  ;"  that  is,  say  the  Unitarians, 
from  Jewish  rulers  and  priests.  We  must  perceive  in  a  moment  the 
absurdity  of  the  proposition  thus  interpreted,  where  that  is  denied  at 
the  beginning  which  is  affirmed  at  the  close ;  and  human  nature,  ex- 
pressed by  a  general  term  w'hich  can  signify  nothing  else,  is  formally 
excluded  from  the  context,  to  make  way  for  a  class  of  adversaries  who 
are  of  that  very  nature,  and  no  other. 

It  is  equally  impossible  to  put  the  other  construction  on  the  passage, 
that  of  the  principle  of  evil ;  because  that  cannot  admit  of  the  plural 
number.  It  will  surely  be  allowed,  that  no  intelligent  writer,  who  was 
desirous  of  personifying  the  principle  of  evil,  abstractedly  considered, 
would  speak  of  it  in  the  plural  form,  under  the  figure  of  "  principalities 
and  powers,  and  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  tlVis  world,"  since  such 
a  mode  of  speaking  could  be  productive  of  nothing  but  mental  con- 
fusion. This  passage,  therefore,  affords  an  irrefragable  proof  of  the 
existence  and  agency  of  Satan. 

Let  us  proceed  to  apply  the  principle  of  our  opponents  to  another 
passage,  and  inquire  whether  it  be  possible  to  elicit  from  it  a  sense 
worthy  of  the  wisdom  of  inspiration.  The  passage  to  which  I  refer 
is  in  the  first  Epistle  of  John,  the  third  chapter :  "  My  little  children, 
let  no  man  deceive  you ;  he  that  doeth  righteousness  is  righteous,  as 
he  is  righteous  :  he  who  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil,  for  the  devil 
hath  sinned  from  the  beginning :  for  this  purpose  was  the  Son  of  God 
manifested,  that  lie  might  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil."  Let  us  for 
a  moment  suppose,  with  the  Unitarians,  that  the  devil  is  here  put  for 
a  personification  of  the  principle  of  evil,  or  of  sin.  And  what,  let  me 
ask,  can  be  more  trite,  futile,  and  ridiculous,  than  gravely  to  assert 
that  the  principle  of  evil,  or  sin,  sinned  from  the  beginning?  Who 
needed  to  be  informed  of  this  ?  and  what  sense  can  we  affix  to  the 
phrase,  "from  the  beginning f  which,  if  it  conveys  any  idea  at  all, 
must  be  intended  to  instruct  us,  that  the  principle  of  sin  did  not  begin 
to  be  sinful  from  a  late  or  recent,  but  from  a  certain  very  distant  epoch, 
denoted  by  the  words,  "  the  beginning."  But  is  not  this  more  like  the 
babbling  of  an  infant,  than  the  dictates  of  divine  inspiration  ? 

The  following  passage  of  John  is  [beset]  with  precisely  the  same 
difficulties.  "Ye,"  said  our  Lord,  addressing  the  unbelieving  Jews, 
"  are  of  your  father  the  devil,  and  the  lusts  of  your  father  ye  will  do. 
He  was  a  murderer  from  the  beginning,  and  abode  not  in  the  truth. 
When  he  speaketh  a  lie,  he  speaketh  of  his  own  ;  for  he  is  a  liar,  and 
the  father  of  it."*  Here,  on  the  hypothesis  of  our  opponents,  we  find 
our  Saviour  labourinij  to  convince  his  hearers  that  the  principle  of  evil, 
or  sin,  has  been  guilty  of  certain  specific  enormities,  such  as  murder 
and  lying  ;  that  it  did  not  continue  in  a  state  of  moral  rectitude,  because 
there  is  no  rectitude  in  it.     Nothing  can  be  more  trifling  ;  since,  when 

'  John  viii,  44, 


CORRUPTION  OF  MANKIND  BEFORE  THE  DELUGE.        51 

the  very  principle  of  evil  in  the  abstract  is  under  contemplation,  every 
partial  kind  of  evil  is,  ipso  facto,  included.  Had  our  Lord  discoursed 
in  this  manner,  it  might  very  properly  have  been  said  of  him,  in  a  sense 
very  different  from  that  which  was  originally  mtended,  "  never  man 
spake  like  this  man." 

The  legitimate  employment  of  a  prosopopceia,  or  personification, 
requires  that  the  literal  term,  expressive  of  the  passion  or  principle 
personified,  be  strictly  adhered  to.  He  who  wishes  to  personify  piety, 
patriotism,  or  benevolence  is  never  accustomed  to  drop  the  literal  term 
by  which  these  principles  are  respectively  denoted.  He  gives  sex, 
sentiment,  and  language  to  each,  but  on  no  occasion  shall  we  find  him 
substituting  an  unusual  name  for  the  things  which  he  intends  to  per- 
sonify. To  change  the  very  terms  themselves  for  certain  symbolical 
appellations  would  have  the  efllect  of  involving  his  discourse  in  incom- 
prehensible mystery  :  it  would  be  introducing  an  enigma,  not  a  per- 
sonification. Where  shall  we  find  a  parallel  in  the  whole  compass 
of  the  Bible  for  such  a  licentious  abuse  of  personification  ?  Besides, 
allowing  that  this  absurd  kind  of  personification  could  be  at  all  tolerated, 
the  symbolical  name  ought,  at  least,  to  have  a  determinate  meaning ; 
it  should  invariably  stand  for  one  and  the  same  thing.  The  change 
of  the  proper  term  for  the  name  of  a  symbolical  personage  could  be 
justified  on  no  other  principle  than  that  it  was  universally  understood 
to  be  the  substitute  of  some  one  object ;  but  in  the  present  case,  the 
word  Satan  has  no  precise  or  definite  idea  attached  to  it ;  it  is  some- 
times the  principle  of  evil,  sometimes  the  Jewish  priests  and  rulers, 
at  others  the  pagan  magistrates.  How  [repugnant  to  every  sound 
principle  of  interpretation !] 


VIII. 

ON    THE   EXTREME    CORRUPTION   OF    MANKIND    BEFORE 
THE  GENERAL  DELUGE. 

Gen.  vi.  11. —  The  earth  was  corrupt  before  God,  and  was  filled  with 

violence. 

The  account  in  the  Scriptures  of  the  history  of  the  world  before 
[the  flood]  is  extremely  concise,  but  at  the  same  time  extremely 
interesting.  Of  the  celebrated  personages  that  then  flourished,  the 
names  are  seldom  mentioned,  and  the  transactions  in  which  they  were 
engaged  are  not  specified  M'ith  any  detail  of  circumstances.  The 
mhabitants  of  the  old  world  are  involved  in  [obscurity] ;  they  are 
made  to  pass  before  us  like  the  shade  of  departed  greatness,  with  au 
infallible  judgment  only  passed  by  their  Creator  on  their  characters, 
and  a  distant  declaration  of  their  doom :  as  though  it  were  the  deter- 

D2  ^ 


52      THE  EXTREME  CORRUPTION  OF  MANKIND 

mination  of  God's  providence  to  bury  their  memor)'  in  oblivion,  and 
to  make  nothing  distinctly  legible  but  their  destruction.  Of  the  violences 
they  committed,  of  the  impiety  they  uttered,  and  of  the  miseries  they 
mutually  inflicted  upon  each  other,  the  Holy  Ghost  condescends  to 
give  no  particulars,  but  only  stigmatizes  them  as  atrocious  criminals 
and  rebels,  whose  enormous  guilt  exhausted  the  patience  of  their 
Maker,  and  rendered  them  unfi*  to  live. 

The  same  history  informs  us  of  a  most  atrocious  murder  committed 
by  the  first-born  man  upon  his  brother,  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
he  was  wicked  and  his  brother  righteous.  Such  an  event  affords  a 
view  of  human  nature,  in  the  early  stage  of  its  existence,  which  pre- 
pares us  for  the  description  given  of  human  depravity  in  the  context, 
"  and  the  Lord  looked,  and  beheld  that  every  thought  of  the  imagina- 
tion of  man's  heart  was  evil,  and  that  continually."*  It  was  necessary 
explicitly  to  state  the  extreme  degeneracy  into  which  mankind  were 
fallen,  in  order  to  justify  the  conduct  of  God  in  bringing  upon  them  the 
flood.  For  God  to  destroy  the  work  of  his  hand, — to  destroy  that 
part  of  it  which  was  made  after  his  own  image,  was  a  most  extraor- 
dinary measure  in  the  conduct  of  Providence,  which  nothing  can 
account  for  but  that  extreme  corruption  which  it  is  affirmed  then  over- 
spread the  world.  In  what  that  corruption  particularly  consisted ; 
whether  it  involved  the  apostatizing  from  God  to  idols,  or  only 
manifested  itself  in  gross  acts  of  immorality ;  how  long  it  had  been 
accumulating  ere  it  reached  its  height ;  and  whether  it  was  gradually 
or  by  sudden  steps  introduced  ;  are  circumstances  of  which  we  are 
not  informed.  All  that  we  are  expressly  told  is,  that  the  earth  was 
filled  with  injustice,  rapine,  and  violence.  From  what  we  know  of 
human  nature  and  human  afl'airs,  we  have  reason  to  conclude  that  it 
was  gradually  superinduced,  since  great  changes  in  the  moral  state  of 
the  world,  whether  in  the  way  of  improvement  or  deterioration,  require 
a  considerable  space  of  time  for  their  accomplishment.  It  is  on  this 
account  next  to  impossible  not  to  suppose  that  the  extreme  degradation 
of  manners  under  consideration  was  produced  by  slow  degrees,  and 
was  eflfected  by  various  causes.  Some  of  these  causes  are,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  suggested  with  tolerable  clearness  in  the  chapter  out  of  which 
my  text  is  taken. 

We  might  with  great  truth  assert,  that  the  general  cause  of  the 
extreme  corruption  then  prevalent  was  the  defection  of  our  first  parents, 
and  that  consequent  loss  of  true  rectitude  and  holiness  which  they  first 
sustained  in  their  own  persons,  and  then  communicated  to  their  pos- 
terity. This  tendency  to  sin  in  human  nature  is,  indeed,  the  prolific 
source  of  all  particular  vices,  which  flow  from  thence  as  their  fountain. 
But  as  a  river  when  it  overflows  its  banks  must  be  swelled  by 
accelerated  floods  or  tributary  streams,  besides  what  it  derives  from  its 
parent  stream,  so  an  extraordinary  prevalence  of  vice  at  a  particular 
time  necessarily  implies  the  co-operation  of  other  causes,  along  with 
the  original  corruption  of  human  nature.     To  say  there  is  an  inherent 

♦  Gen.  vi.  5. 


BEFORE  THE  GENERAL  DELUGE.  53 

sinful  bias  in  human  nature  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the  existence 
of  a  large  portion  of  corruption  at  any  time,  but  affords  no  reason  for 
its  prevailing  at  one  time  more  than  another.  To  account  for  such  an 
event  satisfactorily  some  specific  and  particular  reasons  must  be 
assigned  besides  this  general  one. 

The  purport  of  the  remaining  part  of  this  discourse  is  to  point  out 
what  may  appear  some  of  the  probable  reasons,  and  to  deduce  a  few 
practical  inferences  from  the  whole. 

Let  me  request  your  attention  while  I  state  some  of  the  particular 
reasons  which  account  for  the  remarkable  and  prodigious  corruption 
which  prevailed  in  the  lives  of  men  immediately  before  the  flood. 

I.  It  may  be  partly  ascribed,  with  great  probability,  to  the  neglect 
and  abandonment  of  the  public  worship  of  God.  From  the  fact  of 
Cain  and  Abel  both  presenting  their  offerings  to  the  Lord,  and  from 
the  acceptance  of  Abel's  offering,  because  offered  with  faith,  we  may 
infer,  that  some  time  after  the  fall  a  mode  of  worshipping  God  was 
divinely  prescribed,  or  how  could  Abel  exercise  faith  in  sacrificing ; 
since  ftiith  implies  invariably  a  divine  testimony,  or  some  divine  inter- 
position 1  We  are  further  informed  respecting  Cain,  that  when  the 
Lord  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  murder  of  his  brother,  he  sentenced 
him  to  be  a  wanderer  and  vagabond ;  and  Cain,  deploring  the  severity 
of  his  sentence,  said,  "  Behold,  thou  hast  driven  me  out  this  day  from 
the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  from  thy  face  shall  I  be  hid."  It  is  added, 
"And  Cain  went  out  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  dwelt  in  the 
land  of  Nod,  on  the  east  of  Eden."* 

As  his  going  out  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  is  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  declaration  of  his  dwelling  in  a  strange  land,  it  is  natural 
to  suppose  that  the  former  expression  denotes  his  quitting  that  country 
which  God  was  wont  in  a  peculiar  manner  to  honour  with  his  presence ; 
where  he  afforded  some  spiritual  manifestation  of  his  power  and  glory. 

It  seems,  in  or  near  the  place  where  Adam  and  iiis  sons  dwelt  there 
was  placed  the  shadow,  or  some  bright  and  visible  token,  of  the  Divine 
presence.  The  same  is  implied  in  the  acceptance  of  Abel's  sacrifice, 
and  the  rejection  of  Cain's ;  for  how  could  the  former  know  that  his 
was  accepted,  or  the  latter  that  his  was  rejected,  whhout  some  super- 
natural sign  or  token?  Cain,  thus  having  by  the  atrocious  crime  he 
committed  forfeited  the  privilege  of  approaching  the  place  of  Divine 
audience,  and  going  into  a  remote  part  where  no  such  symbol  of  the 
Divine  presence  was  possessed,  fell  in  all  probability  into  total  neglect 
of  the  public  worship  of  God,  and  abandoned  himself  entirely  to  an 
irreligious  and  worldly  life.  Supposing  this  to  be  the  case,  it  will 
readily  account  for  much  of  that  prodigious  vice  and  impiety  :  for  when 
once  the  worship  of  God  is  abandoned,  a  great  restraint  upon  wicked- 
ness is  removed  out  of  the  way.  Conceive  only  to  what  a  dreadful 
degeneracy  of  morals  would  this  nation  speedily  advance,  if  no  attf  ntioii 
were  paid  to  the  Sabbath,  and  public  worship  universally  abandoned. 
The  extreme  importance  of  this  duty  as  a  chief  preservative  of  all 

*  Gen.  iv.  14-16. 


54  THE  EXTREME  CORRUPTION  OF  MANKIND 

religion  and  virtue  may  be  leamed  from  one  remarkable  passage  in  thn 
writings  of  Paul :  "  Forget  not  the  assembling  of  yourselves  together," 
says  he,  "  as  the  manner  of  some  is  :"  "for  if  we  sin  wilfully  after  we 
have  received  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  there  remaineth  no  more 
sacrifice  for  sin."*  Whence  we  may  infer,  that  to  forsake  public  wor- 
ship is  either  precisely  the  same  thing  as  absolute  apostacy  or  is  the 
very  next  step  to  it. 

11.  The  intermarriages  between  the  "seed  of  the  righteous  and  the 
seed  of  the  wicked"  were  undoubtedly  another  principal  cause  of  the 
extreme  corruption  under  consideration.  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  when 
men  began  to  multiply  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  daughters  were 
born  unto  them,  that  the  sons  of  God  saw  the  daughters  of  men  that 
they  were  fair,  and  they  took  them  wives  of  all  that  they  chose."t  To 
understand  the  meaning  of  this  passage,  which  at  first  sight  appears 
obscure,  we  must  look  a  little  further  back  in  the  narrative.  We  are 
there  informed  that  to  Seth,  the  third  son  of  Adam,  was  born  a  son 
named  Enos;  it  is  added,  "  Then  began  men  to  call  upon  the  name  of 
the  Lord."|  The  meaning  of  the  inspired  writer  is,  that  in  the  days 
«t  Enos,  the  son  of  Seth,  the  first  separation  was  made  between  the 
true  worshippers  of  God  and  the  profane  descendants  of  Cain  and  his 
associates.  Adam,  we  learn,  had  sons  and  daughters  born  to  him  after 
the  birth  of  Seth ;  but  their  names  are  not  mentioned,  partly  because 
the  true  religion  was  preserved  in  the  line  of  Seth,  and  partly  because 
from  him  was  continued  the  succession  of  patriarchs  till  Noah.  The 
family  of  Seth,  on  account  of  its  adherence  to  the  true  religion,  were 
styled  "  the  sons  of  God ;"  the  descendants  of  Cain,  and  the  other 
branches  of  the  family  who  united  with  him  in  his  impiety,  "  the  sons 
of  men,"  denoting  that  they  were  a  carnal,  irreligious  race.  The 
words  rendered,  "  then  began  men  to  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord," 
may  with  equal  propriety  be  rendered,  "  then  began  men  to  be  called 
by  the  name  of  tlie  Lord."  Those  then  were  the  persons  whom  the 
sacred  writer  denominates  "  the  sons  of  God  ;"  a  race  of  men  descended 
from  Seth,  who  kept  themselves  apart,  and  refused  affinity  or  connexion 
with  the  apostates  from  the  religious  worship  of  God.  Among  them 
was  found  tlie  true  church  ;  the  holy  seed,  whence  the  New  World  was 
to  spring  up  after  the  flood ;  the  sacred  stock  out  of  which  Christ 
himself  was  to  arise. 

While  thoy  kept  themselves  apart,  and  declined  to  unite  with  the 
apostate  stock,  religion  continued  in  its  purity,  the  overflowings  of  vice 
were  restrained,  and  tliey  were  as  "  the  salt  of  the  earth."  In  process 
of  time  they  yielded  to  the  suggestions  of  carnal  appetite,  broke  through 
the  restraints  of  piety  and  prudence,  and  joined  in  affinity  with  the 
descendants  of  Cain  and  the  other  branches  of  the  family  who  followed 
his  apostacy-  Tracing  the  almost  necessary  eff'ects  of  such  a  pro- 
ceeding, the  children  of  Israel  at  a  subsequent  period  were  strictly 
forbidden  to  contrac^t  marriages  with  the  Canaanitish  and  surrounding 
nations.     "  Take  heed  to  thyself  lest  thou  make  a  covenant  with  the 

♦  Heb.  X.  25,  t  Gen.  vi.  1,  2.  }  Gen.  iv.  26. 


BEFORE  THE  GENERAL  DELUGE.  55 

inhabitants  of  the  land  whither  thou  goest,  lest  it  be  for  a  snare  in  the 
midst  of  thee : — and  thou  take  of  their  daughters  unto  thy  sons,  and 
their  daughters  go  a  whoring  after  their  gods,  and  make  thy  sons  go  a 
whoring  after  their  gods."*  In  the  same  spirit,  and  for  the  same  rea- 
son, the  apostle  enjoins  upon  Christians  the  avoiding  of  such  unequal 
marriages  :  "  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  with  unbelievers  ;  for  what 
fellowship  hath  Christ  with  Belial  ?  or  what  communion  hath  light  with 
darkness  ?  or  what  agreement  hath  the  temple  of  God  with  idols  1  or 
what  part  hath  he  that  believeth  with  an  infidel  ?"t 

III.  The  pride  arising  from  the  possession  of  great  bodily  sti-ength, 
and  great  mental  acquisitions  and  endowments,  may  be  assigned  as 
another  cause  of  the  remarkable  corruption  of  men's  manners  in  the 
times  immediately  preceding  the  flood.  "  There  were  giants  in  those 
days,"  says  the  sacred  text ;  "  and,  moreover,  when  the  sons  of  God, 
allying  themselves  to  the  daughters  of  men,  had  children  born  unto 
them,  the  same  became  mighty  men,  even  men  of  renown."|  The 
consciousness  of  superior  or  supernatural  strength  in  persons  who  are 
not  tinctured  with  the  fear  of  God,  naturally  disposes  to  a  degree  of 
violence  and  oppression  ;  and  that  those  giants  of  whom  Moses  spoke, 
abused  their  prodigious  strength  to  those  purposes  is  evidently  [implied] 
in  the  sacred  story.  The  strong  oppressed  the  weak,  and  made  the 
superiority  of  bodily  force  an  instrument  for  establishing  unjust  domina- 
tion and  tyranny,  until  the  whole  earth  became  a  scene  of  rapine, 
cruelty,  and  injustice. 

But  besides  these,  it  is  evident  from  the  narrative  that  the  descend- 
ants of  Cain  distinguished  themselves  very  early  by  the  discovery 
and  cultivation  of  arts  and  sciences  ;  both  these  took  their  first  rise 
among  that  godless  race.  Tubal  Cain  instructed  in  every  artifice  of 
iron  and  brass,  and,  probably,  was  the  inventor  of  warlike  instru- 
ments. Jubal  was  the  inventor  of  musical  instruments,  or,  to  speak 
in  the  language  of  Scripture,  "  the  father  of  all  them  that  handled  the 
harp  and  the  organ."  Naamah,  from  the  manner  in  which  she  is 
introduced,  was  probably  the  inventress  of  some  [perhaps]  of  the 
more  exquisite  kinds  of  needlework.  The  first  thing,  we  are  informed 
of  respecting  Cain,  after  the  murder  of  his  brother,  is,  his  building  a 
city,  which  he  called  Enoch,  after  the  name  of  his  son.  From  the 
whole  narrative  it  may  be  confidently  inferred,  that  the  descendants  of 
Cain  were  endowed  with  a  superior  genius,  and  were  the  fijst  who 
made  themselves  celebrated  by  the  discovery  and  improvements  of  arts 
and  sciences.  Superior  genius,  united  with  extraordinary  attainments, 
are,  in  themselves,  valuable  gifts  ;  but  when  they  are  dissevered  from 
the  fear  of  God,  nothing  tends  more  powerfully  to  intoxicate  and 
corrupt  the  heart.  These  envenom  it  with  pride,  these  supply  the 
sophistry  which  supports  impiety,  and  extend  the  means  and  enlarge 
the  capacity  of  doing  mischief.  They  have  a  peculiar  tendency  to 
produce  that  confidence  in  human  reason,  that  reliance  on  arms  of 
flesh,  which  indisposes  man  to  seek  after  God.    "  The  wicked,  through 

*  Exod.  xxxiv.  12, 16.  f  2  Cor.  vi.  14, 15.  t  Gen.  vi.  4. 


56    CORRUPTION  OF  MANKIND  BEFORE  THE  DELUGE. 

the  pride  of  his  countenance,  will  not  seek  after  God."*  From  the  history 
of  modern  times,  we  have  abundant  evidence  that  great  improvements 
in  arts  and  sciences  have  not  only  no  harmonizing  or  beneficial  influ- 
ence on  irreligious  minds,  but  that  they  have  just  the  contrary.  When- 
ever God  is  not  made  the  linal  end  of  all  knowledge  and  of  all  talent, 
they  lead  the  possessor  farther  and  farther  from  him,  and  are  the  mere 
instruments  and  embellishments  of  vice,  and  serve  merely  to  paint 
and  adorn  the  sepulchre  where  virtue  lies  entombed.  The  descend- 
ants of  Cain,  like  too  many  in  the  present  day,  were,  indeed,  men  o 
renown  ;  but  seeking  this  as  the  supreme  good,  and  despising  the 
honour  that  comes  from  above,  they  could  possess  no  solid  worth,  and 
whatever  there  was  that  might  bear  the  appearance  of  it  among 
them  was  hollow  and  insincere. 

IV.  I  add,  in  the  last  place,  their  extraordinary  longevity  as  another 
reason  of  the  prodigious  depravity  which  prevailed  at  that  time.  The 
lives  of  many  of  them,  we  learn,  extended  to  nearly  a  thousand  years. 
This  remarkable  circumstance,  co-operating  with  the  causes  1  have 
already  mentioned,  contributed  greatly  to  the  excessive  corruption 
asserted  in  the  text.     It  must  have  acted  powerfully  in  several  ways. 

1.  He  who  can  indulge  a  reasonable  expectation  of  living  for  a  very 
long  period  in  the  world,  considers  himself  as  possessing  a  large 
estate.  The  value  of  any  earthly  possession  rises,  partly  in  propor- 
tion to  the  satisfaction  it  is  capable  of  affording,  and  partly  from  its 
duration.  Man,  being  naturally  a  prospective  being,  a  being  who  looks 
forward  to  futurity,  is  necessarily  more  attached  to  every  species  of 
good  in  proportion  to  its  real  or  imagined  permanence.  How  power- 
fully, then,  must  sensible  and  visible  objects  have  attracted  the  heart  of 
those  who  had  a  reasonable  prospect  of  enjoying  them  for  a  thousand 
years  !  The  possessions  which  attach  us  to  the  present  world  must 
have  operated,  in  such  circumstances,  with  a  prodigious  force. 

2.  Corrupt  habits  must,  through  such  a  long  track  of  years,  have 
had  opportunity  to  fix  themselves  more  thoroughly,  to  strike  their  roots 
more  deeply,  than  during  the  contracted  space  of  present  existence. 

3.  The  longevity  of  the  antediluvians  removed  eternity  to  a  greater 
apparent  distance,  and  therefore  naturally  weakened  its  efiects.  If 
men  put  off  the  thoughts  of  death  and  eternity  when  they  have  such 
a  short  space  to  live  as  they  have  at  present,  how  difficult  would  it  be 
to  impress  [them]  with  a  serious  or  alarming  apprehension  of  it  at  the 
distance  of  a  thousand  years  ! 


•  Psalm  X.  4. 


ON  THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EXISTENCE.         57 


IX. 


ON  THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EXISTENCE. 

EzEK.  XV.  2. —  What  is  the  vine-tree  more  than  any  tree,  or  than  a 
branch  which  is  among  the  trees  of  the  forest  ? 

The  vine-tree  is  weaker  than  most  trees,  so  as  to  be  unfit  for  any 
work,  and  would  therefore  be  very  contemptible  but  for  that  property 
it  possesses  of  bringing  forth  a  valuable  and  delicious  fruit.  On  this 
account  it  is  highly  prized  and  diligently  cultivated.  But  if  it  fail  of 
producing  fruit,  the  only  purpose  to  which  it  can  be  applied  is  to  turn 
it  to  fuel.  Such  is  the  figurative  representation  which  the  prophet 
gives  us,  in  this  passage,  of  man,  considered  especially  as  the  object 
of  Divine  care  and  culture.  He  is  naturally  capable  of  yielding  a 
precious  fruit;  in  this  consists  his  sole  excellence;  this  is  the  sole 
end  of  his  existence ;  and  if  he  fails  in  this,  he  is  of  no  use  but  to  be 
destroyed. 

I,  Man  is  naturally  capable  of  yielding  a  most  precious  fruit :  this 
fruit  consists  in  living  to  God. 

1.  He  is  possessed  of  all  the  natural  powers  which  are  requisite  for 
that  purpose.  He  is  endowed  with  reason  and  understanding,  enabling 
him  to  perceive  the  proofs  of  the  being  of  God,  and  to  entertain  just, 
though  inadequate  conceptions  of  the  principal  attributes  of  his  nature  ; 
his  self-existence,  his  absolute  perfection,  his  power,  his  wisdom,  his 
all-sufficiency,  his  omnipresence,  his  holiness,  justice,  and  goodness. 
Inferior  animals  do  not :  on  which  account  he  is  a  vine-tree  among 
the  trees  of  the  wood  ;  inferior  in  many  properties  to  some  of  them, 
but  superior  in  those  particulars  which  fit  him  for  this  end,  and  on  that 
account  incomparably  more  valuable. 

2.  As  we  are  possessed  of  natural  powers,  fitting  us  for  the  service 
of  God,  so  he  has  bestowed  upon  us  much  care  and  culture,  with  an 
express  view  to  this  end.  The  religious  instruction  he  gave  to  his 
ancient  people  is  frequently  compared  in  Scripture  to  the  cultivation 
which  men  bestow  upon  vines.  "  My  beloved  hath  a  vineyard  in  a 
very  fruitful  hill,"  &c.*  "  For  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord  of  hosts  is  the 
house  of  Israel,  and  the  men  of  Judah  his  pleasant  plant."!  He  gave 
them  his  will,  his  ordinances,  his  prophets,  and  separated  them  from 
all  nations  by  peculiar  rites,  that  they  might  be  to  him  for  a  name, 
and  a  praise,  and  a  peculiar  treasure,  above  all  nations.  He  has 
done  much  more  for  us  under  the  gospel.  None  can  be  ignorant  of 
the  intention  of  God  in  all  these  provisions.    "  Yet  I  had  planted  thee 

•  Isaiah  v.  1  t  Issuah  v.  7. 


58         ON  THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EXISTENCE. 

a  noble  vine,  wholly  a  right  seed  :  how  then  art  thou  now  turned  into  the 
degenerate  plant  of  a  strange  vine  unto  me  ?"* 

II.  This  is  the  only  end  for  which  mankind  are  formed  and  pre- 
served ;  this  is  the  proper  fruit  of  human  nature,  which  admits  of 
nothing  being  substituted  in  its  room. 

1.  A  mere  selfish,  voluptuous  life  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  the 
proper  fruit  of  human  nature.  He  who  lives  to  himself  is  universally 
despised  and  condennied.  "  Israel  is  an  empty  vine,  he  bringeih  forth 
to  himself."!  "  For  their  vine  is  of  the  vine  of  Sodom,  and  of  the 
fields  of  Gomorrah  ;  their  grapes  are  grapes  of  gall,  their  clusters  are 
bitter."  j: 

2.  A  life  of  social  benevolence,  in  which  the  public  good  is  preserved, 
without  a  supreme  regard  to  God,  cannot  be  this  fruit.  Can  such 
persons  be  said  to  neglect  the  end  of  their  existence  ?  Undoubtedly ; 
for  the  following  reasons  : 

(1.)  To  do  good  to  our  fellow-creatures  without  regard  lo  God  is  to 
forget  the  principal  relation  in  which  we  stand,  and  consequently  to 
neglect  the  princijial  duty.  A  right  behaviour  to  each  other  is  no 
proper  compensation  for  the  want  of  obedient  regards  to  God  (in- 
stanced in  pirates  and  rebels).  A  regard  to  God  is  the  root  and  origin 
of  all  real  virtue. 

(2.)  The  end  of  man's  existence  cannot  with  any  propriety  be  con- 
sidered as  confined  to  diis  world  ;  but  the  proper  end  accomplished 
by  social  virtues  is  entirely  confined  to  the  present  state. 

(3.)  No  collective  number  of  men  can  be  independent  of  God,  more 
than  a  single  individual ;  therefore  no  such  collective  body  has  a  right 
to  consult  their  common  interest  to  the  neglect  of  God,  any  more  than 
a  single  individual  to  pursue  his  individual  interest.  The  aggregate 
of  mankind  appears  sometbing  great  and  imposing  in  the  eyes  of  men  ; 
in  consequence  of  which  a  peculiar  importance  is  attached  to  those 
actions  which  tend  to  the  public  good.  The  magnhude  of  the  general 
interest  imposes  a  value  on  those  actions  which  are  adapted  to  advance 
so  great  an  object.  But  in  the  sight  of  God,  all  nations  are  as  the 
"drop  of  a  bucket;"  "he  taketh  up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing." 
Suppose  all  the  subjects  of  a  lawful  prince  were  to  agree  to  stand  by 
each  other,  and  to  promote  each  other's  interest  to  the  utmost ;  would 
this  be  allowed  by  the  prince  as  any  atonement  for  a  great  and  per- 
severing rebellion  ?  Or  suppose  a  single  individual  so  disposed,  would 
not  the  result  be  the  same  ?     No  other  can  be  substituted  ibr  tliis. 

III.  He  who  answers  not  the  end  of  his  existence  is  fit  only  to 
be  destroyed.  He  is  like  a  vessel  marred  in  the  hand  of  the  potter, 
proper  only  to  be  broken. 

Tlie  barren  vine  may  be  useful  as  fuel,  and  to  this  purpose  it  is 
much  applied  in  eastern  countries.  Thus  wicked  men  may  be  useftd 
with  a  subordinate  kind  of  usefulness,  by  their  destruction. 

1.  They  may  thereby  become  edifying  examples  of  the  just  vengeance 
of  God,  in  order  to  deter  others.  That  this  will  be  one  of  the  ends  an- 
swered by  the  punishment  of  the  wicked  seems  intimated  in  several 

*  Jer.  ii.  21.  f  Hos.  x.  1.  }  Deut.  xxxii.  32. 


CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH.  59 

passages  of  Scripture,  as  well  as  is  supported  by  its  analogy  to  human 
government.  "  And  they  shall  go  forth  and  look  upon  the  carcasses 
of  the  men  that  have  transgressed  against  me ;  for  their  worm  shall 
not  die,  neither  shall  their  fire  be  quenched,  and  they  shall  be  an 
abhorring  unto  all  flesh."* 

2.  They  will  serve  to  manifest  those  attributes  of  the  Great  Supreme 
which  their  conduct  disowned,  and  which  it  seemed  virtually  to  call 
in  question.  "  What  if  God,  willing  to  show  his  wrath,  and  to  make 
his  power  known,  endured  with  much  long-suft'ering  the  vessels  of 
wrath  fitted  to  destruction  ?"t  This  is  a  subordinate  use,  not  a  primary 
end.  It  is  that  which  men  fit  themselves  for  by  their  presumptuous 
and  impenitent  neglect  of  God. 

(1.)  What  blindness  attaches  to  those  who  live  in  the  total  neglect 
of  God  and  religion  ! 

(2.)  What  little  room  is  there  for  that  confidence  which  many  place 
in  the  correctness  of  deportment  towards  their  fellow-creatures,  while 
religion  is  not  even  pretended  to  be  the  governing  principle  of  their  lives ! 

(3.)  AVhat  need  have  we  all  to  examine  ourselves,  and  seriously  to 
inquire  whether  we  are  yielding  that  fruit  unto  God  on  which  we  have 
been  insisting ! 

(4.)  How  ought  those  to  be  alarmed  when  the  result  of  such  exam- 
ination is,  that  they  have  been  hitherto  utterly  without  fruit !  How 
strong  the  obligations  on  such,  after  considering  their  ways,  to  turn 
unto  the  Lord !  And  thankful  should  they  be  that  space  is  afforded 
ihera  for  repentance  and  salvatiofi.;]: 


X. 

CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH. 


RoM.  viii.  12. —  Therefore,  brethren,  we  are  debtors,  not  to  the  Jlesh,  to 
live  after  the  flesh. 

It  is  of  great  importance  for  us  to  ascertain,  not  only  the  quality  of 
particular  actions,  but  the  general  principle  on  which  our  life  is  regu- 
lated, since  it  is  this  that  must  determine  our  true  character  in  the  sight 
of  God.  As  there  are  but  two  sorts  of  persons  in  the  world,  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked,  the  carnal  and  the  spiritual,  so  there  are 
only  two  grand  principles  which  respectively  actuate  these  two  classes 
of  mankind,  and  produce  all  that  diversity  of  character  by  which  they 
are  distinguished.  In  the  context  they  are  characterized  with  such 
perspicuity  and  precision,  that  it  is  not  difiicult  to  decide  to  which  we 
belong.  The  one  are  described  as  enslaved,  the  other  as  free ;  the 
one  as  being  in  the  flesh,  and  "  minding"  the  things  of  it ;  the  other  as 

*  Isaiah  Ixvi.  24.  1  Rom.  ix.  22. 

t  Preached  on  Ihe  morning  of  Sunday,  October  31,  1814,  at  Leicester. 


60  CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH. 

inhabited  and  actuated  by  the  Spirit :  the  former  as  the  heirs  of  death, 
the  latter  as  the  joint-heirs  with  the  Lord  of  a  happy  imniortahty.  The 
text  we  have  chosen  for  our  present  meditalioifis  a  legitimate  inference 
deduced  by  the  inspired  writer  from  the  premises  he  had  been  laying- 
down  ;  it  is  a  conclusion  at  which  he  arrives,  resulting  from  the  views 
Avhich  he  had  been  exhibiting  of  the  condition  and  expectation  of 
two  opposite  descriptions  of  persons.  "  Therefore,  brethren,  we  are 
debtors,  not  to  the  flesh,  to  live  after  the  flesh." 

I  shall  endeavour,  in  the  first  place,  to  settle  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  Jlesh  and  Spirit,  employed  in  the  context,  in  order  to  a  right 
conception  of  the  import  of  the  proposition ;  and  in  the  second  place, 
compare  and  adjust  the  opposite  claims  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  Spirit. 

1.  Flesh  most  properly  denotes  the  body,  in  contradistinction  from 
the  soul :  the  matter  of  which  the  corporeal  structure  is  formed : 
"  there  is  one  flesh  of  men."*     And, 

2.  As  all  men  are  possessed  of  this,  it  is  by  an  easy  figure  of  speech 
applied  to  denote  human  nature,  or  mankind  universally.  "  The  end 
of  all  flesh  is  come  before  God."t 

3.  Because  the  fleshly  or  corporeal  part  of  our  nature  may  be  per- 
ceived by  the  eye,  it  is  sometimes  used  to  denote  that  in  religion  which 
is  merely  outward  and  ceremoniaL  Thus  St.  Paul  says,  "  Having 
begun  in  the  Spirit,  are  ye  made  perfect  by  the  flesh  ?"|  Thus  the 
same  apostle  speaks  of  "  carnal  ordinances."^ 

4.  On  account  of  the  deep  and  universal  corruption  of  human  nature, 
and  this  corruption  displaying  itself  in  a  peculiar  manner,  in  producing 
an  addictedness  to  the  indulgence  of  bodily  or  fleshly  appetites,  the 
term  flesh  is  frequently  used  to  denote  moral  corruption,  or  human 
nature  considered  as  corrupt.  It  is  manifest,  from  the  consideration 
of  the  context,  that  this  is  the  sense  in  which  it  is  to  be  taken  here. 
"  That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh  ;"||  that  is,  corrupt  and  sinful. 
In  this  sense  of  it,  the  works  of  the  flesh-  are  contrasted  by  St.  Paul 
with  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit.  "  Now  the  works  of  the  flesh  are  manifest, 
which  are  these  :  adultery,  fornication,  uncleanness,  lasciviousness, 
idolatry,  witchcraft,  hatred,  variance,  emulations,  wrath,  strife,  seditions, 
heresies,  envyings,  murders,  drunkenness,  revellings,  and  such  like."F 
From  the  extent  of  the  enumeration,  which  comprehends  many  nicnlal 
vices,  it  is  manifest  nothing  less  can  be  intended  by  the  term  Jlesh  than 
the  principle  of  corruption,  the  dictates  of  unrenewed  nature.  By 
the  Spirit,  it  is  plain  we  are  not  to  understand  the  immaterial  principle 
in  man,  but  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God,  the  author  of  all  holiness.  This 
is  evident  from  the  context. 

Secondly.  As  they  divide  mankind  between  them,  and  every  man 
walks  according  to  the  dictates  of  the  one  or  the  other,  they  are  con- 
sidered as  competitors.  We  shall  examine  and  adjust  their  respective 
claims,  that  we  may  discern  to  which  the  preference  is  due,  and  come 
then  fully  to  acquiesce  in  the  decision  of  the  apostle  :  "  Therefore  we 
are  debtors,  not  to  the  flesh,  to  live  after  the  flesh." 

*  1  Cor.  XV.  39.  t  Gen.  vi.  13.  t  Gal.  jii.  3. 

^  Heb.  ix.  10.  ||  John  iii.  6.  IT  Gal.  v.  19-21. 


CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH.  61 

There  is  an  ellipsis  in  the  text,  which  must  be  supplied  from  the 
train  of  thought  in  the  context. 

Let  us  examine  the  claims  of  the  flesh,  or  of  corrupt  nature. 

We  may  conceive  the  flesh  pleading  ancient  possession.  The 
pleasures  and  freedom  from  restraint  attending  a  compliance  with  her 
dictates.  The  general  usage  and  course  of  the  world,  which  she 
reminds  us  has  been  such  in  every  age.  That  the  far  greater  part  of 
mankind  have  been  under  her  sway,  the  greatest  of  men  not  excepted,  so 
that  she  can  number  nobles  among  her  vassals,  and  among  her  subjects 
the  princes  of  the  earth.  The  most  distinguished  by  their  birth,  their 
talents,  or  their  fortune,  she  may  allege,  never  dreamed  of  an  exemption 
from  her  dominion,  never  thought  of  any  other  method  of  life  than  that 
of  living  after  the  flesh:  faithful  to  her  dictates  through  the  whole  of 
their  lives,  they  bowed  submissive  at  her  shrine,  were  initiated  into 
her  mysteries,  and  died  in  her  communion.  Notwithstanding  these 
specious  pleas,  however,  we  shall  see  sufiieient  cause  to  decline  her 
yoke,  and  to  come  to  the  apostolic  conclusion,  if  we  take  the  following 
things  into  our  consideration. 

I.  Its  claims  are  founded  upon  usurpation ;  they  rest  on  no  basis 
of  equity.  It  alienates  the  property  from  its  lawful  possessor  ;  it  inter- 
feres with  a  prior  claim  which  nothing  can  fairly  defeat.  Sin,  con- 
sidered as  a  master,  does  not  enter  upon  a  property  that  is  derelict  or 
abandoned  by  its  owner ;  but  it  attempts  to  occupy  and  appropriate 
what  the  proprietor  never  meant  to  resign,  what  he  never  can  resign 
without  irreparable  injury  to  his  honour.  The  souls  of  men  are  the 
most  valuable  part  of  his  possessions  below,  and  the  most  capable, 
indeed  in  one  sense  they  alone  are  capable,  of  glorifying  his  perfections. 

1.  Let  us  consider  that  the  Lord  is  our  Maker,  and  we  the  work  of 
his  hands  ;  it  is  "he  that  created  the  heavens,  and  stretched  them  out; 
he  that  spread  forth  the  earth,  and  that  which  cometh  out  of  it ;  he 
that  giveth  breath  unto  the  people  upon  it,  and  spirit  to  them  that  walk 
therein."*  The  noble  powers  by  which  we  are  so  highly  distinguished 
from  the  inferior  parts  of  the  creation,  the  powers  of  thought  and  reason 
and  conscience,  are  of  his  production  ;  from  him  they  are  derived,  and 
by  him  they  are  sustained.  His  right  in  us  is  consequently  more 
extensive  than  it  is  possible  for  us  to  conceive  in  any  other  instance, 
because  none  else  ever  gave  existence  to  the  smallest  particle  of  dust 
in  the  balance ;  it  is  incomparably  more  than  that,  to  which  it  is  com- 
pared, of  the  potter  over  the  clay.  Whatever  claim  interferes,  then, 
with  his  dominion  over  us,  must  be  founded  in  absolute  injustice, 
without  the  guilt  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  withhold  any  thing  from 
him ;  and  it  is  injustice  of  the  worst  description,  for  it  is  robbing 
God.  "  Will  a  man  rob  God  ?"  exclaims  the  prophet :  "  yet  ye  have 
robbed  me,  saith  the  Lord,  in  tithes  and  off'erings."t  But  what 
are  tithes  and  offerings  compared  to  that  love,  adoration,  and  obe- 
dience in  which,  even  while  they  were  enjoined,  all  their  value  con- 
sisted, and  which  are  of  perpetual  obligation  when  they  cease  any 
longer  to  be  enjoined  ?     Nor  does  the  dominion  of  God  rest  only  on 

*  Isaiah  xlii.  5.  -f  Mai.  iii.  8. 


62  CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH. 

his  power  as  a  Creator;  it  claims  our  submission  also  on  the  ground 
of  those  transcendent  perfections  and  excellences  which  belong  essen- 
tially to  the  blessed  God,  and  the  exercise  of  which  is  inseparable 
from  his  administration.  By  virtue  of  these  he  is  the  sovereign  good, 
the  only  good  ;  for,  strictly  speaking,  "  there  is  none  good  but  God  ;" 
the  infinite,  the  absolute,  the  unchanging,  the  satisfying,  the  all- 
comprehending  good  ;  so  that  whatever  appears  beautiful  or  glorious 
among  tiie  creatures  is  but  an  efflux  from  his  fulness,  the  faint 
reflection  of  his  glory. 

2.  If  we  reflect  on  the  powers  with  which  we  are  endued,  Ave  cannot 
suppose  that  they  are  formed  for  no  other  end  than  the  indulgence  of 
carnal  appetites,  the  amassing  of  riches,  the  enjoyment  of  sensual 
pleasures,  or  the  procuring  honours  and  distinctions  from  our  fellow- 
worms.  We  shall  be  at  no  loss  to  perceive  a  strange  disproportion 
between  such  powers  and  such  pursuits,  and  that  they  cannot  be 
confined  to  them  without  descending  unspeakably  beneath  our  level, 
without  a  base  forgetfulness  of  ourselves  as  well  as  God,  and  a  volun- 
tary dereliction  of  our  rank.  Jeremiah,  when  he  witnessed  the  ruin 
and  desolation  of  his  country,  beheld  with  astonishment  those  that 
were  brought  up  in  scarlet  embrace  dunghills ;  a  deplorable,  but  an 
involuntary  degradation.  But  this  we  are  now  speaking  of  is  chosen 
and  voluntary  ;  these  dunghills,  for  such  are  the  highest  forms  of 
created  good  when  compared  with  the  blessed  God,  are  embraced  with 
appetite  and  desire. 

3.  If  God  were  disposed  to  relinquish  his  claim,  the  usurpation  of 
another  master  might  be  yielded  to  with  the  more  plausible  pretence: 
but  this  is  not  the  case.  If  we  believe  his  word,  he  never  means  to 
part  with  his  right  over  his  creatures.  "If  I  am  a  father,  where  is  my 
reverence  ?  if  I  am  a  master,  where  is  my  fear  ?"*  We  cannot  sup- 
pose, without  the  utmost  absurdity,  he  will  ever  divest  himself  of  his 
authority,  which  he  could  never  do  without  impairing  his  dignity,  and 
introducing  confusion  into  his  empire.  He  owes  it  to  himself  not  to 
relinquish  what  we  owe  to  him.  The  claims  of  the  flesh  then  are 
founded  on  plain  and  direct  usurpation. 

II.  Let  us  next  examine  the  claims  of  the  flesh  by  what  we  have 
already  derived  from  it.  Let  us  see  whether  it  is  such  a  master  as 
deserves  to  be  served  any  longer.  Of  the  boasted  pleasures  it  has 
aflTorded,  say.  Christians,  what  remains  but  a  painful  and  humiliating 
remembrance  ?  "  What  fruit  had  ye  in  those  things  of  which  ye  are 
now  ashamed  ?"  Has  any  thing  accrued  io  you  from  the  service  of 
sin  wliich  you  would  wish  to  renew  ?  Though  it  might  flatter  your 
imagination  with  the  appearance  of  good,  did  it  not  afterward  "  bite 
as  a  serpent  and  sting  as  an  adder  ?"  You  remember  the  wormwood 
and  the  gall  you  were  made  to  taste  when  you  were  first  convinced  of 
its  evil,  and  you  know  what  a  bitter  and  evil  thing  it  is  to  depart  from 
the  living  God.  It  has  already  brought  you  to  the  brink  of  destruction  ; 
it  has  placed  you  in  a  situation  in  which  nothing  but  the  interposition 
of  sovereign  Mercy  could  have  saved  you.     By  estranging  you  from 

*  Mai.  i.  6. 


CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH.  63 

God,  it  shut  xip  the  path  to  real  good.  In  your  unconverted  state  it 
indisposed  you  to  prayer,  armed  you  with  prejudice  against  the  salu- 
tary truths  of  the  gospel,  darkened  your  understanding,  and  seared 
your  conscience.  Such  was  its  deceitfulness,  that  you  were  led  by  it 
to  put  "  evil  for  good,  and  good  for  evil ;  sweet  for  bitter,  and  bitter  for 
sweet."  Your  ears  were  closed  to  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  charmed 
he  never  so  wisely.  You  were  made  to  fancy  that  true  religion  was 
melancholy,  that  tenderness  of  conscience  was  needless  scrupulosity, 
and  that  happiness  was  only  to  be  found  in  the  pleasures  and  pursuits 
of  this  world.  It  engaged  you  in  the  chase  of  innumerable  vanities. 
You  "  followed  after  your  lovers,  but  could  not  overtake  them ;"  fled 
froin  one  refuge  to  another,  till,  to  speak  in  the  language  of  the  prophet, 
"  You  were  wearied  in  the  multitude  of  your  way."  In  the  mean  time, 
to  all  pleasant  and  delightful  intercourse  with  the  Father  of  Spirits,  to 
the  sootliing  accents  of  peace  and  pardon  issuing  from  Christ,  and  to 
all  the  consolations  of  piety,  you  were  utter  strangers.  In  your  more 
serious  and  reflecting  moments,  your  heart  meditated  terror ;  death, 
judgment,  and  eternity  were  awful  sounds  in  your  ears,  and  you  only 
felt  a  delusive  and  sickly  repose,  while  you  forgot  they  had  any 
existence.  On  a  calm  review  of  your  conduct,  you  felt  an  uneasiness 
which  you  were  conscious  was  so  just  and  well  founded  that  you 
seldom  dared  to  reflect.  Surely  you  will  acknowledge  that  you  at  least 
are  not  debtors  to  the  flesh.  And  what  has  the  flesh  to  plead  for  its 
services  which  will  bear  for  a  moment  to  be  weighed  against  these 
great  evils'?  What  has  Satan  to  plead,  who  by  means  of  it  "rules  in 
the  children  of  disobedience  V  Will  he  venture  to  mention  a  few  vain 
and  sinful  amusements,  a  wanton  arbitrary  liberty,  or  a  few  transient 
guilty  pleasures,  which  I  trust  you  are  so  far  from  wishing  to  repeat,  that 
you  never  think  of  them  without  blushing  before  God  ?  How  are  you 
more  indebted  to  the  flesh,  since  you  had  reason  to  hope  you  formed  a 
saving  acquaintance  with  God  ?  The  partial  indulgence  to  its  dictates 
has  robbed  you  of  your  comfort,  has  retarded  your  progress  to  heaven, 
and  made  you  pass  many  a  day  sad  and  disconsolate,  when  but  for 
this  the  joy  of  the  Lord  would  have  been  your  strength. 

The  more  we  observe  what  passes  around  us  with  a  serious  mind, 
the  more  we  shall  be  convinced  how  little  men  are  indebted  to  the 
flesh.  Look  at  that  young  man,  the  early  victim  of  lewdness  and 
intemperance,  who,  though  in  the  bloom  of  life,  has  "  his  bones  filled 
with  the  sins  of  his  youth."  Survey  his  emaciated  cheek,  his  infirm 
and  withered  frame,  and  his  eyes  sunk  and  devoid  of  lustre ;  the  pic- 
ture of  misery  and  dejection.  Hear  his  complaint,  how  he  mourns  at 
the  last,  novv  his  flesh  and  his  body  are  consumed  :  "  How  have  I  hated 
instruction  and  my  heart  despised  reproof,  and  have  not  obeyed  the 
voice  of  my  teachers,  nor  inchned  my  ear  to  them  that  instructed  me  ! 
— I  was  almost  in  all  evil  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation  of  the 
assembly."  Is  he  a  debtor  to  the  flesh?  Behold  that  votary  of  the 
world,  successful  as  he  has  been  in  the  pursuit  of  it,  and  stained  by 
no  flagrant  crime.  Yet  he  has  lived  "  without  God  in  the  world ;" 
and  now  his  days  are  drawing  to  a  close,  he  feels  himself  verging  to 


64  CLAIMS  OF  THE  FLESH. 

the  grave,  and  no  hope  animates,  no  pleasing  reflection  cheers  him. 
The  only  consolation  he  receives,  or  rather  the  only  relief  of  his 
anguish,  is  in  grasping  the  treasures  he  must  shortly  quit.  Is  he  a 
debtor  to  the  flesh  1 

III.  We  shall  examine  the  claims  of  the  flesh  by  the  aspect  they 
bear  on  our  future  interests.  Before  we  engage  in  the  service  of  a 
master,  it  is  reasonable  to  inquire  into  the  advantages  he  stipulates, 
and  the  prospects  of  futurity  attendant  upon  his  service.  In  the  ordi- 
nary concerns  of  life,  we  should  consider  the  neglect  of  such  an  inquiry 
chargeable  with  the  highest  imprudence.  Dreadful  is  it,  in  this  view, 
to  reflect  on  the  consequences  inseparably  annexed  to  the  service  of 
corruption.  "  If  ye  live  after  the  flesh,"  says  the  apostle,  "  ye  shall 
die."*  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death."t  And  to  demonstrate  the  close 
and  unavoidable  connexion  subsisting  between  them  he  adds,  "  If  ye 
sow  to  the  flesh,  ye  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption."!  It  is  not  an 
incidental  connexion,  it  is  an  indissoluble  one,  fixed  in  the  constitution 
of  things.  "  Lust,  when  it  is  conceived,  bringeth  forth  sin,  and  sin, 
when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death. "^  If  we  live  in  the  indul- 
gence of  carnal  appetites,  if  we  comply  habitually  with  the  dictates 
of  corrupt  nature,  the  word  of  God  lias  assured  us  of  what  will  fol- 
low :  "  The  end  of  these  things  is  death. "|1  "  Let  no  man  deceive 
you  with  vain  words ;  for  because  of  these  things  cometh  the  wrath 
of  God  on  the  children  of  disobedience. "F  "  Be  not  deceived,  God  is 
not  mocked :  whatsoever  a  man  sowelh,  that  also  shall  he  reap."** 
For  this  reason  we  can  never  be  debtors  to  the  flesh,  to  live  after  the 
flesh ;  the  very  reason  assigned  in  the  clause  immediately  following 
the  text.  We  can  never  be  under  obligations  to  obey  such  a  master, 
who  rewards  his  services  with  death, — death  spiritual  and  eternal. 
The  fruits  of  sin,  when  brought  to  maturity,  are  corruption :  his  most 
finished  production  is  death, — and  the  materials  on  which  he  works  the 
fabric  of  that  manufacture,  if  we  may  be  allowed  so  to  speak,  consist 
in  the  elements  of  damnation.  To  such  a  master  we  can  owe  nothing 
but  a  decided  rejection  of  his  offers,  a  perpetual  abhorrence,  and  an 
awful  fear  of  ever  being  deceived  by  his  stratagems,  or  entangled  in 
his  snares. 

*  Rom.  viii.  13.  t  Rom.  vi.  23.  i  Gal.  vi.  8.  $  James  i.  15. 

II  Rom.  vi.  21.  V  Ephes.  v.  6.  **  Gal.  vi.  7. 


ON  REGENERATION.  flg 

XL 

ON  THE  CAUSE,  AGENT,  AND  PURPOSE  OF  REGENERATION. 

AMES  i.  1 8. — Of  his  oivn  will  begat  he  us  with  the  word  of  truth,  that 
we  should  be  a  kind  of  first-fruits  of  his  creatures. 

In  this  chapter  the  apostle  endeavours  to  fortify  the  minds  of  the 
professors  of  Christianity,  under  the  various  trials  and  persecutions  to 
which  their  religion  exposed  them,  by  assuring  them  of  the  happy 
fruits,  in  their  spiritual  improvement,  they  might  expect  to  reap  from 
them  here,  and  the  more  abundant  reward  which  awaited  them  here- 
after. "My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into  divers  tempta- 
tions, knowing  this,  that  the  trying  of  your  faith  worketh  patience."* 

Lest  any  might  be  induced  to  relax  in  their  vigilance,  under  an  idea 
that  the  circumstances  of  their  trial  w^ere  too  arduous,  and  that  if  they 
shrunk  in  the  combat  they  might  excuse  themselves  from  the  consid- 
eration of.  its  being  disproportioned  to  their  strength,  and  that  they 
were  therefore,  in  fact,  templed  of  God,  he  takes  pains  to  repel  this 
insinuation,  and  to  show  that  the  success  of  any  temptation  whatever 
is  solely  to  be  imputed  to  the  unbridled  corruption  of  the  human  heart. 
It  is,  he  tells  us,  "  when  a  man  is  drawn  away  by  his  own  heart'«6  lust, 
and  enticed,"  that  he  is  "  tempted  ;"t  this  sinful  corruption  has  its 
origin  in  his  own  heart  only  ;  nor  is  in  the  smallest  degree  to  be  imputed 
to  God,  as  though  he  impelled  to  it  by  a  direct  agency,  or  so  ordered  things, 
in  the  course  of  his  providence,  as  to  render  it  unavoidable.  The  sum  of 
his  doctrine  on  this  head  appears  to  be  this,  that  all  evil  is  from  our- 
selves, and  from  the  disordered  state  of  our  hearts,  on  which  temptation 
operates  ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  all  moral  and  spiritual  good  is  from 
God,  and  "  cometh  down  from  the  Father  of  lights,  with  whom  there 
is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning."^  The  communications 
of  grace  are  emphatically  denominated  "  good  and  perfect  gifts,"  by 
way  of  asserting  their  immeasurable  superiority  to  the  blessings  which 
relate  to  the  present  lile ;  and  of  these  gifts  St.  James  affirms,  that 
every  orfe  of  them  "  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down  from  the  Father 
of  lights."  Their  origin  is  truly  celestial :  they  are  not  capable  of 
being  communicated,  like  the  good  things  of  this  life,  by  one  human 
being  to  another ;  they  are,  strictly  speaking,  divine  donations,  which 
can  only  proceed  from  above.  As  a  further  illustration  of  the  proposition 
he  had  been  laying  down,  he  introduces  the  words  of  the  text :  "  Of 
his  own  will  begat  he  us  with  the  word  of  truth,  that  we  should  be  a 
kind  of  first-fruits  of  his  creatures."  These  words  instruct  us  in  the 
cause,  tlie  instrument,  and  the  end  of  the  renovation  of  Christians. 

L  The  cause  is  "  the  will"  of  God ; — God  operating  by  a  free  and 
spontaneous  agency.     His  grace  imparted  in   regeneration  must  be 

*  James  i.  2,  3.  t  James  i.  14.  }  James  i.  17. 

Vol.  IIL— E 


66  OX  THE  CAUSE,  AGENT,  AXD  PURPOSE 

acknowledged  to  be  grace  the  most  free  and  unmixed,  the  fruit  of  his 
sovereign  will,  in  opposition  to  any  necessity  of  nature  to  which  it 
may  be  ascribed :  for  though  the  nature  of  his  agency  cannot  but  be 
consonant  to  his  character,  though  the  fruit  of  his  Spirit  cannot  but  be 
most  pure  and  holy,  yet  he  was  under  no  necessity  to  interpose  at  all. 
That  the  effect  of  his  special  operation  on  the  hearts  of  the  faithful 
should  be  sanctifying  is  unavoidable ;  but  his  operating  at  all  by  his 
Spirit  in  the  restoration  of  a  fallen  creature  is  to  be  ascribed  solely 
to  "  his  own  good  pleasure."* 

It  is  of  his  own  will,  as  opposed,  not  only  to  a  necessity  of  nature  in 
him,  but  to  any  claim  of  merit  in  the  subject  of  this  his  gracious  agency. 
No  previous  worthiness  of  ours,  no  attractive  excellence  in  us,  engaged 
his  attention,  or  induced  him  to  exert  his  power  in  our  renovation :  for 
whence  could  this  arise  in  a  creature  so  fallen  and  corrupt  as  to  need 
so  thorough  a  renovation  1  Or  how,  since  "  every  good  and  perfect  gift 
Cometh  from  above,"  can  it  be  supposed  to  subsist  previous  to,  or  apart 
from,  his  donation  ?  In  the  context  the  apostle  has  been  strongly  in- 
sisting on  it,  that  the  beginning  of  all  moral  evil  is  to  be  ascribed  to 
man  ;  the  beginning  of  all  good  to  the  Supreme  Being ;  and  it  is  in 
supporting  this  assertion  he  introduces  the  words  of  the  text,  "  Of  his 
own  will  begat  he  us." 

No  signs  of  virtuous  and  laudable  conduct  had  ensued  to  proctire 
the  communication  of  divine  grace,  agreeable  to  what  another  apostle 
observes  in  his  epistle  to  Titus:  "not  by  works  of  righteousness 
which  we  have  done,  but  according  to  his  mercy  he  saved  us,  by  the 
washing  of  regeneration,  and  the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost."t 

The  production  and  maintenance  of  religion  is  styled,  by  the  same 
writer,  "  the  good  pleasure  of  his  will."| 

II.  The  instrument  of  this  renovation  is  "  the  word  of  truth."  In 
infusing  the  principle  of  divine  life  into  the  soul,  God  is  wont  to  em- 
ploy the  gospel  as  the  instrument,  styled,  with  the  utmost  propriety, 
"  the  word  of  truth*:"  not  only  on  account  of  the  infallible  truth  and 
certainty  of  all  its  declarations,  but  on  account  of  its  high  dignity  and 
excellence,  as  a  revelation  from  God,  it  is  "  the  truth  ;"  to  which  what- 
ever is  contrary  is  imposture,  and  whatever  is  compared  to  it  insig- 
nificant.^ 

It  falls  not  within  Uie  limits  of  this  discourse  to  illustrate  at  large 
the  manner  in  which  the  word  of  God  produces  a  saving  change :  two 
circumstances  may  suffice  to  establish  the  fact.  The  first  is,  that 
where  the  light  of  the  gospel  is  unknown  no  such  beneficial  alteration 
in  the  character  is  perceived,  no  features  of  a  renewed  and  sanctified 
mind  are  to  be  traced.  The  second  is,  that  among  those  who  live 
under  the  light  of  the  gospel,  the  reality  of  such  a  change  is  less  or 
more  to  be  perceived,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  the  gospel 
is  seriously  attended  to  and  cordially  received.  E-\'ery  person  who  is 
deeply  influenced  by  religious  considerations,  and  enabled  to  live  a 
lioly  and  spiritual  life,  will  acknowledge  his  deep  obligations  to  the 
gospel ;  and  that  it  is  to  its  distinguishing  discoveries  he  is,  under  God, 

■  Phil.  ii.  13.  t  Tilus  iii.  5.  t  2  Thess.  i.  11.  ^  Oal.  iii.  1. 


OF  REGENERATION. 


67 


indebted  for  the  renovation  he  has  experienced.  "  Being  born  again," 
saith  St.  Peter,  "  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the 
word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abideth  for  ever."* 

III.  We  are  directed  to  the  consideration  of  the  end  proposed  by 
this  regenerating  influence,  "  that  we  might  be  a  kind  of  iirst-fruit  of 
the  creatures." 

In  the  .Jewish  law,  which  was,  in  all  its  essential  parts,  a  perpetual 
shadow  of  the  gospel,  the  first-fruits  of  the  earth  were  commanded  to 
be  dedicated  in  the  temple,  and  presented  by  the  priest  as  an  offering 
to  God :  "  The  first  of  the  fruits  of  tliy  land  thou  shalt  bring  into  the 
house  of  the  Lord  thy  God."t  In  the  performance  of  this  part  of 
religious  duty,  an  affecting  form  of  words  was  prescribed,  expressive 
of  the  humility  and  gratitude  of  the  offerer. I  When  a  vineyard  was 
planted,  the  Israelites  were  forbidden  to  partake  of  the  fruits  for  the  first 
three  years,  during  which  it  was  to  be  looked  upon  as  uncircumcised 
and  impure :  "  And  when  ye  shall  come  into  the  land,  and  shall  have 
planted  all  manner  of  trees  for  food,  then  ye  shall  count  the  fruit 
thereof  as  uncircumcised  :  three  years  shall  it  be  as  uncircumcised  unto 
you :  it  shall  not  be  eaten  of.  But  in  the  fourth  year  all  the  fruit 
thereof  shall  be  holy  to  praise  the  Lord  withal."^ 

In  allusion  to  this  the  apostle  observes,  the  design  of  Christianity  is, 
that  being  received  into  the  heart  as  a  renovating  principle,  we  may 
become  in  a  spiritual  sense  what  the  fruits  presented  in  the  temple 
were  in  a  literal, — "a  certain  first-fruits  of  his  creatures;"  in  which 
representation  he  meant  probably  to  include  the  following  ideas  : — • 
that  we  should  be  dedicated  to  God  as  holy  persons,  separated  from 
every  unclean  use  ;  that  we  should  be  distinguished  as  the  most  excel- 
lent part  of  his  creatures,  as  the  first-fruits  were  ever  considered  as  the 
best  of  the  kind  ;  and  that  our  dedication  to  God  should  be  a  pledge 
and  [earnest]  of  the  universal  sanctification  of  the  creatures. 

1..  This  representation  denotes  our  solemn  dedication  to  God  as 
holy  persons, — as  persons  set  apart  for  his  use  and  service.  Christians 
are  not  their  own,  and  the  method  by  which  God  claims  and  appro- 
priates them  to  himself  is  that  of  regenerating  grace. 

The  principle  of  regeneration  is  a  principle  which  prompts  men  to 
devote  themselves  to  God.  They  in  whom  it  is  planted  "  present 
themselves  a  living  sacrifice,"||  as  "  a  reasonable  service ;"  they  pre- 
sent all  their  faculties  and  powers  to  him ;  their  understanding,  to  be 
guided  and  enlightened  by  his  truth  ;  their  will,  to  be  swayed  by  his 
authority  and  to  be  obedient  to  his  dictates  ;  their  hearts  and  affections, 
to  be  filled  with  his  presence  and  replenished  with  his  love ;    the 

*  1  Pet.  i.  23.  ■      t  Exod.  xxxiv.  26. 

i  "  Thou  Shalt  take  of  the  first  of  al!  the  fruit  of  the  earl h,  which  thou  shalt  bring  of  thy  land  that 
the  Lnrd  thy  God  giveth  thee,  and  shalt  put  it  in  a  basket,  and  shalt  go  unto  the  place  which  the 
Lord  thy  God  shall  choose  to  place  his  name  there. 

"  And  thnu  shall  speak  and  say  before  the  Lord  thy  God,  A  Syrian  ready  to  perish  was  my  father, 
and  he  went  down  into  Egypt  and  sojourned  there  with  a  few^  and  became  there  a  nation,  great, 
mighty,  and  populoiis. 

'■  And  now,  behold,  I  have  brought  the  first-fruits  of  the  land  which  thou,  O  Lord,  hast  given  me. 
And  thou  shalt  set  it  before  the  Jtord  thy  God,  and  worship  before  the  Lord  thy  God."  DetU. 
XXVI.  %  5.  10. 

^  Lev.  xix.  23,  94.  IJ  Ronnil.  1. 

E2 


68  OX  THE  CAUSE,  AGENT,  AND  PURPOSE 

members  of  their  body,  to  be  instruments  of  his  glory  sacred  to  his 
use ;  their  time,  to  be  employed  in  the  way  which  he  directs,  and  in 
pursuit  of  the  objects  wiiich  he  prescribes,  and  no  longer  according  to 
the  dictates  of  inclination  and  caprice.  They  feel  and  cheerfully 
acknowledge  the  obligations  they  are  under  to  regard  him  as  theii- 
God, — their  owner  and  their  Lord,  through  the  Redeemer.  They 
deprecate  the  thought  of  considering  themselves  under  any  other 
light  than  as  those  who  are  "  bought  with  a  price  ;"*  that  as  God  was 
highly  honoured  by  presenting  the  first-fruits  in  the  temple,  since  it 
w^as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  absolute  right  over  all  things  inhering  in 
him,  and  whatever  was  possessed  was  held  at  his  pleasure,  so  he  is 
much  more  honoured  by  devoting  ourselves,  in  proportion  as  the 
ofTerer  is  superior  to  the  gift,  in  proportion  as  a  reasonable  creature  is 
superior  to  unconscious  matter.  "  They  gave  themselves,"  says  St. 
Paul,  speaking  of  the  Macedonians,  "  first  to  the  Lord  ;"t  they  gave 
themselves  immediately  to  Jesus  Christ  as  the  great  High-priest  and 
Mediator,  to  be  by  him  presented  with  acceptance  to  the  Father,  just 
as  the  basket  of  first-fruits  was  put  into  the  hand  of  the  priests  to  be 
laid  upon  that  "  altar  which  sanctifies  the  gift."|  It  would  have  been 
great  presumption  for  an  Israelite  to  present  his  fruits  without  the 
intervention  of  the  priest,  as  they  were  to  be  received  immediately 
from  his  hands ;  so  in  our  approaches  we  are  to  come  first  to  the 
Mediator,  and  in  his  name  to  devote  ourselves  to  God :  "  No  mau 
cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  him."§ 

Though  we  are  infinitely  unworthy  of  the  acceptance  of  so  great  a 
King,  yet  when  we  present  ourselves  we  offer  the  noblest  present  in 
our  power,  we  ofi'er  that  which  has  an  intrinsic  excellence  far  beyond 
the  most  costly  material  gifts  :  we  offer  what  has  a  suitability  in  it  to 
the  character  of  God ;  that  which  is  immaterial  to  the  "  Father  of 
lights,"||  and  that  which  is  spiritual  to  the  "  Father  of  spirits. "F  If  he 
will  deign  to  receive  any  tribute  or  acknowledgment  at  the  hands  of  a 
fallen  creature,  as  he  had  demonstrated  his  readiness  to  do  through  a 
Mediator,  what  can  be  deemed  equally  fit  for  this  purpose  with  the 
solemn  consecration  of  our  inmost  powers  to  him,  in  love,  adoration, 
and  obedience  ?  A  soul  resigning  itself  to  him,  panting  after  him,  and 
ambitious  of  pleasing  him  in  all  things,  is  a  far  more  excellent  gift 
than  the  numerous  peace-offerings  which  Solomon,  surrounded  by  a 
whole  nation,  presented  at  the  dedication  of  the  temple.  Under  the 
gospel  he  makes  little  account  of  other  offering:  the  fruit  which  he 
demands  is  the  fruit  of  our  lips.  By  the  Lord  Jesus,  therefore,  "let. 
us  offer  the  sacrifice  of  praise  to  God  continually,  that  is,  the  fruit  of 
our  lips,  giving  thanks  to  his  name."**  When  the  fruits  were  dedicated 
the  grant  was  irrevocable.  The  right  to  them  passed  fully  and  for  ever 
from  the  ofl'erer,  so  as  to  make  it  impossible  for  him  ever  to  resume 
them  again.  Thus  when  we  have  dedicated  ourselves  to  God  the  act 
is  irrevocable  ;  we  must  never  pretend  the  least  riglu  in  ourselves  any 
more ;  we  are  to  consider  ourselves  entirely  the  Lord's. 

*  1  Cor.  vi.  20.  t  2  Cor.  viii.  5.  t  Matt,  xxiii.  19.  ^  John  xiv.  6. 

y  James  i.  17  V  Hob.  .xii.  9.  '  ♦  H«b.  .\iii.  15. 


OF  REGENERATION.  69 

2.  This  "being  a  certain  first-fruits  of  his  creatures,"  denotes  the 
superior  honour  and  dignity  Avliicli  it  is  tlie  gracious  design  of  God  to 
put  upon  Christians.  The  first-fruits  presented  to  God  were  not  only- 
required  to  be  of  the  best,  but  they  derived  a  pre-eminence  above  all 
others  from  the  very  circumstance  of  their  being  dedicated  to  God ; 
they  were  employed  to  a  nobler  use.  Grace  dignifies  and  exalts  in  a 
similar  manner  its  possessor :  "  Tlie  righteous  is  more  excellent  than 
his  neighbour  ;"*  however  obscure  in  station,  and  however  beclouded 
and  depressed  by  the  meanness  of  his  external  condition,  he  is  one  of 
the  excellent  of  the  earth.  His  employment  is  that  of  "  a  king  and  a 
priest  unto  God."t  In  reflecting  some  rays  of  his  image,  in  advancing 
the  honour  and  sustaining  the  cause  of  the  blessed  God,  he  is  infinitely 
more  honourably  occupied  than  the  votaries  of  the  world  or  the 
servants  of  sin.  His  calling  is  "  high  and  heavenly."];  He  is  asso- 
ciated with  Jesus  and  the  holy  angels  in  sacred  ministries,  his  pursuits 
are  of  a  permanent  and  eternal  nature. 

If  we  consider  the  principles,  also,  which  actuate  good  men  and 
form  the  basis  of  their  character,  we  shall  perceive  a  greatness  and 
elevation  to  which  the  world  is  an  entire  stranger.  Is  there  nothing 
more  noble  in  taking  a  wide  prospect,  and  in  looking  at  "  the  things 
which  are  unseen  and  eternal,"^  than  in  being  absorbed  in  transitory 
concerns  ?  Is  not  that  a  higher  species  of  wisdom  which  calculates 
upon  the  interests  and  advantage  which  lie  concealed  from  eyes  of 
flesh  in  .the  depths  of  eternity,  than  that  which  contents  itself  with 
securing  perishing  riches  ? 

Is  it  not  incomparably  more  noble  and  more  worthy  of  an  immortal 
creature  to  be  "  providing  for  himself  bags  that  wax  not  old,"  "  a 
treasure  in  the  heavens  that  fadeth  not,"||  than  in  searching  for  "  filthy 
lucre  ?"F  Is  there  not  more  true  dignity  in  the  patience  that  waits  with 
composure  to  be  happy,  than  in  the  childish  eagerness  which  catches 
at  every  momentary  gratification  ?  Is  it  not  more  magnanimous  to 
conquer  than  submit  to  the  world?  to  tread  the  world  under  our  feet 
than  to  be  enslaved  by  it  ?  to  be  able  to  exercise  that  self-command 
over  our  sensual  affections  which  secures  the  pleasures  of  innocence 
and  the  approbation  of  conscience,  than  to  be  the  victim  of  unbridled 
passions  1  to  rule  our  own  spirit,  than  to  be  the  sport  of  its  tyrannical 
disorder?  to  rise  above  a  sense  of  injury  so  as  to  forgive  our  enemies, 
rather  than  to  be  tormented  with  malice  and  revenge  ?  He  must  be 
insensible  to  reason  who  is  at  a  loss  how  to  answer  these  inter- 
rogatories ;  and  to  answer  them  in  the  affirmative  is  to  attest  the 
superior  dignity  of  the  Christian  character,  to  acknowledge  that  Chris- 
tians are  "  a  sort  of  first-fruits  of  the  creatm-es." 

They  are  so  at  present  with  all  the  imperfections  which  attach  to  their 
'state  and  their  character ;  but  they  will  be  incomparably  more  so  when 
they  shall  be  assembled  around  the  Throne,  and  it  shall  be  declared 
of  them,  "  These  are  they  which  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he 

*  Prov.  xii.  26.  f  Rev.  i.  6.  t  Heb.  iu.  1. 

$  2  Cor.  iv.  1«.  II  Luke  xii.  33  IT  1  Tim.  ill.  3. 


70  ON  SPIRITUAL  DEATH. 

goeth  :  these  were  redeemed  from  among  men,  being  the  first-fruits  unto 
God  and  the  Lamb."* 

3.  The  representation  of  Christians  as  a  certain  first-fruits  of  the 
creatures  imphes  the  accession  of  the  future  harvest ;  they  are  a  pledge 
only  of  what  is  to  follow ;  their  dedication  to  God  as  the  first-fruits  is 
a  preparation  for  the  universal  prevalence  of  religion, — the  universal 
sanctification  of  the  creatures. 

Ii/iprovcment. 

I.  Let  us  adore  God  for  having  planted  in  the  breast  a  principle  of 
true  reliyion, 

IL  Let  us  be  ambitious  of  exemplifying  the  excellence  and  dignity 
of  our  Christian  calling. 

in.  As  an  important  means  of  this,  let  us  study  the  gospel,  and 
endeavour  to  gain  a  deeper  and  more  extensive  acquaintance  with  the 
word  of  truth. t 


XII. 

ON  SPIRITUAL  DEATH. 


Eph.  ii.  1. — And  you  hath  he  quickened  who  were  dead  in  trespasses 

and  sins. 

The  pov\'er  of  God  was  most  illustriously  displayed  in  raising  Christ 
from  the  dead ;  but  there  is  another  operation  of  Divine  power  which 
bears  a  great  resemblance  to  this,  of  which  every  individual  believer  is  the 
subject.  It  is  the  prayer  of  the  apostle,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  preceding 
chapter,  thai  the  Ephesians  might  have  an  increasing  experience  of  the 
effects  of  that  power  which  is  exerted  towards  "them  that  believe,  accord- 
ing to  tlie  working  of  his  mighty  power  ;"  and  what  particular  effect  of 
Divine  [power]  he  had  in  immediate  contemplation,  he  informs  us  in 
the  first  part  of  the  ensuing  chapter:  "And  you  hath  he  quickened 
who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  He  had  not  merely  raised 
Christ  from  the  dead,  but  he  had  wrought  a  similar  deliverance  for  the 
Ephesians  by  imparting  spiritual  life  to  those  who  had  been  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins. 

In  treating  of  these  words,  I  shall  first  inquire  to  what  extent  this 
representation  of  a  death  in  trespasses  and  sins  is  to  be  applied,  and 
to  what  description  of  persons  it  belongs  ;  secondly,  I  shall  endeavour 
to  show^  its  import ;  and  thirdly,  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  wretched 
state  of  those  who  may  justly  be  affirmed  to  be  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins. 

•  Rev.  xiv.  4. 

t  Preached  TtU  of  March,  1811,  at  the  Wednesday  evening  Iccturq. 


ON  SPIRITUAL  DEATH.  71 

May  the  Lord  the  Spirit  apply  the  awful  truths  we  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  unfold,  with  power  to  the  conscience. 

I.  Are  those  expressions,  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,"  to  be 
understood  as  applicable  only,  or  chiefly,  to  heathens  ?  or  to  such  in 
Christian  countries  as  have  run  very  remarkable  lengths  in  wickedness  '' 
or  are  they  applicable  to  the  state  of  the  unconverted  universally? 
The  heathen,  say  some,  were  exceedingly  corrupt  and  wicked,  totally 
enslaved  to  idols,  "  without  hope  and  without  God  in  the  world."  It 
was  in  consideration  of  this  their  remarkable  alienation  from  God,  and 
extreme  corruption  of  inanners,  the  apostle  was  led  to  employ  such 
phrases;  which  are  by  no  means  to  be  applied  to  men  educated  in  the 
.  light  of  Christianity,  although  they  may  not  yet  be  in  a  state  of  salva- 
tion. Whether  the  representation  applies  to  heathens  only,  or  to  those 
in  a  Christian  country  who  for  their  enormous  sins  may  be  justly 
compared  to  heathens ;  or  whether  they  are  to  be  applied  to  uncon- 
verted sinners  universally,  will  perhaps  sufficiently  appear  from  the 
following  considerations. 

1.  The  apostle  expressly  includes  himself  among  those  whose 
former  state  he  had  been  considering.*  To  the  same  purpose  the 
apostle  includes  himself  in  the  following  description :  "  For  we  our- 
selves were  sometimes  foolish,  disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers 
lusts  and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful,  and  haiing  one 

another."! 

2.  The  same  expression  is  applied  generally  to  those  who  never 
were  heathens.  "  And  another  of  his  disciples  said,  Lord,  suffer  me 
first  to  go  and  bury  my  father.  But  Jesus  said,  Let  the  dead  bury 
their  dead,"J  the  meaning  of  which  is  obvious.  Let  those  who  are 
spiritually  dead,  who  are  therefore  totally  unqualified  to  serve  me  in 
the  gospel,  perform  such  offices  as  those,  to  which  they  are  fully 
equal ;  but  for  thee,  thou  art  fitted  for  a  higher  and  nobler  employment 
— go  thou  and  preach  the  gospel. 

3.  It  is  the  declared  intention  of  Jesus  Christ,  by  his  appearance  in 
our  world,  to  give  life  to  the  world  by  exhibiting  himself  as  the  bread 
of  life.  "  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life."^  Here  we  have  the 
affirmation  of  him  that  cannot  lie  ;  that  those,  whosoever  they  be,  that 
are  destitute  of  saving  faith,  are  also  destitute  of  spiritual  life.  "  They 
have  no  life  in  them  ;"||  which  can  surely  be  understood  in  no  other 
sense  than  what  is  equivalent  to  the  passage  before  us. 

4.  True  Christians,  without  any  exception,  are  described  as  persons 
who  have  "  passed  from  death  unto  life."F  "  He  that  heareth  my 
words,  and  believeth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life,  and 
shall  not  come  into  condemnation ;  but  hath  passed  from  death  unto 
life."**  "  Hereby  we  know  we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because 
we  love  the  brethren  ;  he  that  loveth  not  his  brother  abideth  in  death."tt 

Here  the  moral  state  of  the  world  is  supposed  to  be  separated  by  an 
invisible  boundary  into  two  regions,  a  region  of  life  and  a  region  of 
death ;  and  it  is  implied  that  none  come  into  the  former,  that  is,  that 

*  Eph.  ii.  3,  4.  t  Tit.  iii.  3.  t  Matt.  viii.  22.  «  John  x.  10;  vi.  32,  33, 

II  John  vi.  53.  IT  John  v.  24.  +*  Ibid.  ft  1  John  iii.  14. 


72  ON  SPIRITUAL  DEATH. 

of  life,  but  by  passing  into  it  from  tlie  latter.  They  were  not  natives 
of  this  blessed  region,  but  migrated  or  travelled  to  it  from  an  opposite 
one.  And  who  are  those  remaining  in  a  state  of  death  ?  "  He  who 
loveth  not  his  brother  ;"  that  is,  who  loveth  not  Christians  as  Christians, 
which  is  certainly  the  character  of  all  the  unrenewed  and  unregenerate. 
We  are  justified  then  in  applying  this  description  "dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins,"  to  every  person  who  has  not  been  renewed  by  the  grace 
of  God. 

It  is  time  to  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  to  explain  the  import  of  this 
representation,  or  to  unfold  some  of  the  leading  particulars  included 
in  a  state  of  spiritual  death. 

1.  It  implies  a  privation,  or  withdrawment,  of  a  principle,  which 
properly  belongs,  and  once  did  belong,  to  the  subject  of  which  it  is 
affirmed.  It  would  be  quite  improper  to  speak  of  any  thing  as  dead 
which  was  never  endued  with  a  living  principle.  We  never  speak 
of  the  inanimate  parts  of  creation,  such  as  earth  and  stones,  as  dead, 
because  they  are  as  they  ever  were  ;  no  living  powers  are  extinguished 
in  them.  But  from  whatever  once  had  life,  when  that  life  is  withdrawn 
which  it  formerly  possessed,  we  aflirm  that  it  is  dead.  Thus  we  speak 
of  plants,  of  animals,  and  men,  when  bereft  of  the  vital  principle,  as 
dead.  The  death  that  overspreads  the  souls  of  tlie  unregenerate 
consists  in  privations,  in  the  withdrawment  of  what  originally  belonged 
to  the  soul  of  man,  that  gracious  communication  from  God  which  is 
life.  As  the  life  of  the  body  is  derived  from  its  union  with  the  immortal 
spirit,  and  continues  no  longer  than  while  that  union  subsists,  so  the 
life  of  the  soul  is  derived  from  hs  union  with  God.  Sin  dissolved  that 
union.  In  consequence  of  sin  the  blessed  [God]  withdrew  from  the 
soul,  and  the  effect  of  that  is,  that  though  it  is  not  deprived  of  its  natural 
powers,  as  the  body  even  after  death  still  continues  to  subsist  as 
matter ;  its  life  and  happiness  are  gone. 

The  withdrawment  of  God  is  with  respect  to  the  soul,  what  the 
withdrawment  of  the  soul  is  in  relation  to  the  body.  In  each  case 
the  necessary  effect  is  death  ;  and  as  that  which  occasioned  that  with- 
drawment is  sin,  it  is  very  properly  denominated  a  "  death  in  trespasses 
and  sins."  Now  this  view  of  the  subject  ought  surely  to  fill  us  with 
the  deepest  concern.  Had  man  never  possessed  a  principle  of  divine 
life,  there  would  have  been  less  to  lament  in  his  condition.  We  are 
less  affected  at  the  consideration  of  what  we  never  had,  than  by  the 
loss  of  advantages  which  we  once  possessed.  We  look  at  a  stone, 
or  a  piece  of  earth,  without  the  least  emotion,  because,  though  it  be 
destitute  of  life,  we  are  conscious  it  was  never  possessed.  But  when 
we  look  upon  a  corpse,  it  excites  an  awful  feeling.  Here,  we  are 
ready  to  reflect  [and]  say,  dwelt  an  immortal  spirit ;  those  eyes  were 
once  kindled,  those  limbs  were  once  animated  by  an  ethereal  fire,  and 
a  soul  was  once  diffused  throughout  this  frame.  It  is  now  fled,  and 
has  left  nothing  but  the  ruins  of  a  man.  Did  we  view  things  in  a  right 
light,  we  should  be  far  more  affected  still  in  contemplating  a  dead  soul. 
Here,  we  should  remember,  God  once  dwelt.  The  soul  of  man  was 
once  the  abode  of  light  and  life.     "  How  is  the  gold  changed,  and  the 


ON  SPIRITUAL  DEATH.  73 

fine  gold  become  dim !"  It  is  now  overspread  with  carnality  and 
darkness.     It  is  now  a  lost,  fallen  spirit. 

2.  To  be  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  intimates  the  total,  the  uni- 
versal prevalence  of  corruption. 

Life  admits  of  innumerable  degrees  and  kinds.  There  is  one  sort 
of  vegetative  life,  as  in  plants,  another  subsists  in  animals,  and  in  man 
a  rational,  which  is  a  still  more  superior  principle  of  life.  Wliere  life 
is  of  the  same  sort  it  is  susceptible  of  different  degrees.  It  is  much 
more  perfect  in  the  larger  sorts  of  animals  than  in  reptiles.  The  vital 
principle  in  different  men  exists  with  various  degrees  of  vigour,  so  that 
some  are  far  more  animated,  alert,  and  vigorous  than  others.  But 
there  are  no  degrees  in  death.  All  things  of  which  it  can  be  truly 
said  that  they  are  dead  are  equally  dead.  There  are  no  degrees  in 
privation ;  thus  it  is  with  all  who  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins. 
They  are  all  equally  dead.  They  may  possess  very  estimable  and 
amiable  qualities,  such  as  naturally  engage  the  love  of  their  fellow- 
creatures  ;  but  being  equally  destitute  of  a  principle  of  spiritual  life, 
they  are  all  in  one  and  the  same  state  of  death ;  they  are  governed  by 
the  same  carnal  principle ;  they  are  in  the  flesh,  and  therefore  cannot 
please  God.*  They  are  alike  subjects  of  the  prince  of  darkness ; 
they  serve  the  same  master,  and  belong  to  the  same  kingdom.  Every 
unsanctified  person  is  totally  "  alienated  from  the  life  of  God," — is 
totally  devoid  of  love  to  Him,  and  a  perception  of  his  true  glory  and 
excellence.  How  can  it  be  otherwise,  when  he  is  under  the  influence 
of  that  "  carnal  mind  which  is  enmity  against  God  ?"t  There  are  some 
sinners  who  are  of  so  winning  and  gentle  a  disposition  that  we  are 
ready  to  flatter  ourselves  it  is  easy  to  conduct  them  to  God,  and  to 
form  them  to  the  love  and  practice  of  true  religion  ;  but  when  the 
experiment  is  tried,  we  soon  find  ourselves  undeceived.  Unless  the 
Spirit  of  God  pleases  to  operate,  we  find  it  as  impossible  to  persuade 
them  to  seek  the  Lord  by  prayer,  to  mortify  their  corruptions,  and  set 
their  affections  on  heavenly  things,  as  persons  of  the  most  forbidding 
and  unamiable  tempers.  We  discover  a  rooted  and  invincible  antipathy 
to  whatever  is  spiritual.     There  are  others  who,  by  the  influences  of 


Rom.  viii.  8.  t  Rom.  viii.  7. 


74  ON  CONVERSION. 


Xlll. 

ON  CONVERSION,  AS  ILLUSTRATED  BY  THAT  OF  ST.  PAUL, 

Gal.  i.  15,  16. — But  when  it  pleased  God,  who  separated  me  from  my 
mother's  womb,  and  called  me  by  his  grace,  to  reveal  his  Son  in  me, 
that  I  might  preach  him  among  the  heathen;  immediately  I  conferred 
not  with  flesh  and  blood. 

Of  all  the  events  which  can  befall  us  in  this  transitory  state,  there 
is  none  which  deserves  equally  to  be  devoutly  reflected  upon  with  our 
conversion  to  God.  This  is  an  event  by  far  the  most  important  and 
the  most  beneficial.  In  looking  back  upon  it,  the  strongest  motives 
arise  to  humility,  to  gratitude,  and  to  "  a  patient  continuance  in  well- 
doing." We  find  tlie  holy  apostle  frequently  adverting  to  it ;  always 
in  terms  that  bespeak  the  lively  impression  the  review  of  it  made  on 
his  mind.  In  the  case  of  St.  Paul,  there  w-ere  many  circumstances 
not  paralleled  in  the  general  experience  of  Christians ;  but  in  its 
essential  features,  in  the  views  with  which  it  was  accompanied,  and 
the  eflTects  it  produced,  it  was  exactly  the  same  as  every  one  must 
experience  before  he  can  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 

As  things  of  an  internal  and  spiritual  nature  are  best  understood  by 
examples,  so  we  shall  be  at  a  loss,  in  the  whole  records  of  the  church, 
to  find  a  more  striking  and  instructive  example  of  the  efficacy  of  divine 
grace  in  conversion  than  that  of  St.  Paul,  to  wliich  he  directs  the 
attention  of  the  Galatians  in  the  passage  under  presen*  consideration. 
In  this  instructive  passage  he  gives  us  a  view  of  his  conversion  in  its 
causes,  its  means,  and  its  effects. 

I.  Its  causes.  "  He  separated  me  from  my  mother's  womb."  Thus 
he  styles  [himself]  "  separated  to  the  gospel  of  God."*  It  is  possible 
he  may  allude  to  the  revelation  to  Jeremiah  on  his  appointment  to  the 
prophetic  office  :  "  Before  I  formed  thee  in  the  belly  I  knew  thee  ;  and 
before  thou  earnest  forth  out  of  the  womb  I  sanctified  thee,  and  ordained 
thee  to  be  a  prophet  to  the  nations."! 

While  he,  Paul,  was  running  a  career  of  persecuting  fury,  the  Saviour 
entertained  designs  of  mercy  towards  him,  agreeable  to  what  he 
declared  to  Ananias : — "  He  is  a  chosen  vessel  to  me  to  confess  my 
name  before  nations,  and  kings,  and  the  people  of  Israel. "| 

We  cannot  suppose  the  purposes  of  God  to  be  of  recent  date,  or  to 
have  taken  rise  from  any  limited  point  of  tinie.  What  he  designs  he 
designs  from  eternity.  Whatever  he  accomplishes  is  agreeable  to  his 
eternal  purposes  and  word :  "  Who  hath  saved  us,  and  called  us  with 
an  holy  calling,  not  according  to  our  works,  but  according  to  his  owij 

*  Rom.  i.  1.  t  Jor.  i.  5.  J  Acu  ix.  J. 


ON  CONVERSION.  76 

purposes  and  grace,  which  was  given  us  in  Christ  Jesus  before  the 
world  began."*  Did  he  separate  the  apostle  from  his  mother's  womb  ? 
was  he  a  chosen  vessel  ?  and  must  we  not  affirm  [the  same]  of  every 
one  who  is  made  partaker  of  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  ?  Are 
not  all  genuine  ChristiaiTS  addressed  as  "  elect  of  God,"  or  chosen  of 
God,  "  through  sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  unto  obedience  and  the 
sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  ?"t  Why  should  not  the  real 
Christian  give  scope  to  those  emotions  of  gratitude  which  such  reflec- 
tions will  inspire  1  Why  should  he  not  adore  that  mercy  which  pre- 
served him  in  his  unregenerate  state,  spared  him  while  in  his  sins,  and 
waited  to  be  gracious  ? 

The  next  cause,  the  more  immediate  one,  to  which  the  apostle  as- 
cribes his  conversion,  was  his  call  by  divine  Grace. 

"  Whom  he  predestinated  them  he  also  called. ":j:  There  is  a  general 
call  in  the  gospel,  addressed  to  all  men  indiscriminately.  Gracious 
invitations  are  given,  without  exception,  far  as  the  sound  of  the  gospel 
extends  ;  but  this  of  itself  is  not  effectual.  There  is  in  every  instance 
of  real  conversion  another  and  inward  call  by  which  the  Spirit  applies 
the  general  truth  of  the  gospel  to  the  heart. " 

By  this  interior  call,  Christ  apprehends,  lays  hold  on  the  soul,  stops 
it  in  its  impenitent  progress,  and  causes  it  to  "  hear  his  voice." 

The  methods  of  the  Divine  operations  in  this  inward  and  effectual 
calling  are  various ;  sometimes  alarming  and  awakening  providences 
are  made  use  of  for  this  purpose.  The  solemnities  of  death  and  judg- 
ment are  forcibly  presented  to  the  attention :  judgment  appears  nearly 
to  commence,  and  the  awful  scenes  of  eternity  appear  near ;  the  care- 
less creature  is  awakened  to  perceive  his  guilt  and  danger,  and  is 
compelled  to  cry  out,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? — as  when  the 
earthquake,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  doors,  accompanied  with 
unspeakable  terrors,  impressed  the  obdurate  mind  of  the  jailer,  and 
made  him  fall  down  at  the  feet  of  his  prisoners,  trembling  and  amazed. 
Of  the  three  thousand  at  the  day  of  Pentecost,  we  read,  that  "  they 
were  pricked  in  their  heart."  Others,  like  the  eunuch  and  Lydia,  are 
wrought  upon  in  a  more  gentle  manner — drawn  with  the  "  cords  of 
love,  and  the  ties  of  man." 

That  there  is  such  a  change  produced  by  the  Spirit  of  God  will  not 
be  questioned  by  a  diligent  and  attentive  peruser  of  the  Scriptures  ;  he 
will  observe,  the  Spirit  is  always  affirmed  to  be  the  author  of  a  sav- 
ing change ;  and  the  regenerate  are  particularly  affirmed  to  be  "  born 
of  God,"^  "  born  of  the  Spirit. "||  In  applying  the  term  "  called,"  to  such 
persons  in  a  peculiar  sense  we  have  the  clearest  authority  of  the  Scrip- 
tures :  "  To  them  which  are  called,  both  Jews  and  Greeks,  Christ 
the  power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God."F  "  All  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God,  to  them  who  are  the  called 
according  to  his  purpose.  For  whom  he  did  foreknow,  he  also  did 
predestinate.     Moreover,  whom   he  did   predestinate,  them   he  also 


*  2  Tim.  i.  9.  t  1  Pet.  t.  2.  1  Rom.  viii.  30. 

^  I  John  iv.  7.  II  John  iii.  5.  TT  1  Cor.  i.  Zt- 


76  ON  CONVERSION. 

called,"*  Sic.  This  calling  is  by  grace :  "  Who  hath  called  us  with  an 
holy  calling,  not  according  to  our  works,  but  accorduig  to  his  own  pur- 
pose and  grace. "t 

II.  The  means  by  which  conversion  is  effected :  "  Revealing  his 
Son  in  me."  The  principal  method  which  the  Spirit  adopts  in  subdu- 
ing the  heart  of  a  sinner  is  a  spiritual  discovery  of  Christ. 

There  is  an  attractive  force  in  the  Saviour,  when  beheld  by  faith, 
which  commands.  Christ  crucified  possesses  a  drawing  power; 
"  When  the  Son  of  man  is  lifted  up,  he  will  draw  all  men  unto  him.":f 
No  radical  and  saving  change  is  effected,  without  the  exhibition  of 
this  object ;  nor  are  the  terrors  of  the  law  alone  ever  sufficient  for 
that  purpose :  they  are  sufficient  to  show  the  heinousness  of  sin, 
and  the  extreme  danger  to  which  the  sinner  is  exposed,  but  have 
no  tendency  to  produce  a  complete  renovation.  "  By  the  law  is 
the  knowledge  of  sin  :"^  the  law  will  discover  our  disease,  but  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  is  the  discovery  of  the  remedy.  The  law  de- 
nounces its  awful  sentence :  the  discovery  of  Christ  points  out  the 
method  of  deliverance  and  escape.  The  law  at  most  is  but  a  peda- 
gogue, or  "  schoolmaster  fo  bring  us  to  Christ."  All  saving  influence 
and  solid  consolation  spring  from  him,  and  from  him  alone.  "  The 
law  kills,"  as  the  ministration  of  condemnation ;  it  is  "  Christ  who 
makes  alive." 

The  revelation  of  Christ  is  found  in  the  Scriptures ;  but  in  conver- 
sion the  Spirit  removes  "  the  veil  on  the  heart,"  dispels  prejudice,  and 
affords  that  inward  and  divine  light  by  which  alone  Christ  is  discerned 
to  saving  purposes.  St.  Paul  speaks  of  Christ  being  revealed  in  him, 
in  distinction  from  that  external  record  of  him  which  is  contained  in 
the  Word. 

As  there  is  an  external  call  and  an  internal ;  the  former  universal, 
but  often  ineffectual ;  the  latter  personal,  but  always  efficient ;  so  there 
is  an  outward  revelation  of  Christ  and  an  internal,  of  which theunder- 
standing  and  the  heart  are  the  seat.  Hence  it  is,  with  the  utmost 
propriety,  said  to  be  a  revelation  "  in  us."  The  minds  of  men,  until 
they  are  renewed,  resemble  an  apartment,  shut  up  and  enclosed  with 
sometliing  which  is  not  transparent ;  the  light  shines  around  with  much 
splendour,  but  the  apartment  remains  dark,  in  consequence  of  its 
entrance  being  obstructed.  Unbelief,  inattention,  love  of  the  world 
and  of  sin,  hardness  of  heart,  form  the  obstructions  in  question.  Let 
these  be  removed,  and  the  discoveries  of  the  Word  penetrate  and 
diffuse  a  light  and  conviction  through  the  soul :  "  The  light  shined  in 
darkness,  and  the  darkness  comprehended  it  not."||  Thus  it  was  with 
St.  Paul  before  his  conversion  :  l«s  prejudices  against  the  gospel  were 
inveterate  ;  his  animosity  violent  and  active  ;  but  no  sooner  was  Christ 
renewed  in  him  than  all  was  changed.  The  spirit  of  God  reveals  the 
following  things  in  Christ : — 

1.  His  greatness  and  dignity.  Men  in  their  unrenewed  state  have 
very  low  andt»contemptible  thoughts  of  Christ.     Whatever  compli- 

*  Rom  Triii.  28-30.  t  2  Tim.  1. 9.  J  John  xii.  32. 

$  Rom.  iii.  20.  llJohn.  i.  5. 


ON  CONVERSION.  7f 

mentary  epithets  they  may  bestow  upon  hiin,  they  have  in  theh-  liearts  no 
[elevated]  conception  of  him,  but  just  the  contrary :  he  is  to  tliem  "  a 
root  out  of  a  dry  ground."  St.  Paul  had  the  most  mean  thoughts  of 
Christ  previous  to  his  conversion  ;  but  after  that  these  mistaken  views 
were  entirely  corrected.  The  majesty  and  power  of  Christ  were 
exhibited  to  him  with  such  eftect,  that  he  fell  at  his  feet,  exclaiming, 
"  What  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?"*  He  was  from  that  moment  fully 
convuiced  that  Jesus  Christ  had  "  all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth," 
that  he  was  seated  at  the  right-hand  of  God,  and  that  he  was  in  all 
respects  that  great  and  glorious  person  which  the  Scriptures  represent 
him  to  be.  His  views  wei-e  extended  and  enlarged  ;  an  interest  in  him 
appeared  supremely  valuable,  his  approbation  supremely  desirable. 
The  knowledge  of  him  appeared  to  be  the  most  excellent  knowledge. 

2.  The  Spirit  reveals  his  transcendent  beauty  and  glory.  The 
Scriptures  speak  much  of  the  transcendent  excellency  of  Christ,  the 
perception  of  which  has  laid  a  foundation  for  that  ardent  attachment 
which  the  faithful  have  borne  to  him  in  every  age.  There  is  a  sur- 
passing beauty  in  the  Saviour,  which  needs  but  to  be  perceived  in  order 
to  eclipse  every  [other]  object,  and  make  it  appear  insipid  and  contempti- 
ble in  the  comparison.  This  beauty  is  visible  in  every  part  of  the 
Saviour's  character.  In  whatever  light  he  is  viewed,  he  is  "  fairer 
than  the  sons  of  men."  "  Grace  is  poured  into  his  lips."  "  All  thy 
garments  smell  of  myrrh,  and  aloes,  and  cassia,  out  of  the  ivory 
palaces,  wherein  they  have  made  thee  glad."t  "  Because  of  the 
savour  of  thy  good  ointments  ;  thy  name  is  as  ointment  poured  forth  ; 
therefore  do  the  virgins  love  thee." 

It  is  of  him  that  Isaiah  speaks  when  he  foretels  the  high  esteem  in 
which  he  should  be  held  in  a  future  age  ;  "  In  that  day  shall  the  branch 
of  the  Lord  be  beautiful  and  glorious,  and  the  fruit  of  the  earth  shall 
be  excellent  and  comely  to  them  that  are  escaped  of  Israel."^ 

3.  The  Spirit  reveals  the  suitableness,  fulness,  and  sufficiency  of 
the  Saviour  to  supply  all  our  wants  and  relieve  all  our  miseries.  The 
fitness  of  his  office  to  our  situation,  and  his  complete  competence  to 
discharge  these  offices, — the  richness  and  perfection  of  that  provision 
which  there  is  in  Christ,  is  a  principal  part  of  what  the  Spirit  reveals 
in  conversion.  In  consequence,  the  soul  is  imboldened  to  venture 
upon  him,  and,  extinguishing  all  other  hope  and  confidence,  to  rely 
upon  him  alone.  This  is  that  reception  of  Christ  which,  whosoever 
gives,  is  entitled  to  the  privilege  of  becoming  the  child  of  God. 

III.  We  proceed  to  remark  the  efl'ect  of  St.  Paul's  conversion. 
Immediately,  "I  conferred  not  with  flesh  and  blood."  He  was  not 
"  disobedient  to  the  heavenly  vision."  He  set  himself,  without  hesita- 
tion or  demur,  to  discharge  the  duties  of  his  heavenly  vocation. 

1.  His  compliance  with  the  will  Of  Christ  was  instant,  iinmcdiate, 
not  like  the  eldest  son  in  the  parable,  whom  the  father  commanded  ta 
work  in  his  vineyard. i^ 

2.  It  was  universal  and  impartial.  He  did  not  make  choice  and 
selection   of  the  .more    easy   duties    and  less  costly   sacrifices,  but 

*  Acts  L\.  6.  t  P3-  ^Iv.  8.  X  Isa.  iv.  2.  %  MjU.  xxi.  28,  29. 


78  ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL. 

engaged  in  the  service  thoroughly  and  conscientiously.  He  spent  his 
life  in  a  series  of  most  laborious,  painful,  and  self-denying  services, 
not  living  to  himself.  He  spent  his  life  in  publishing  the  name  of  the 
Saviour  who  had  been  revealed  in  him. 

3.  His  compliance  w^as  constant  and  persevering. 


XIV. 

ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL. 

Acts  xxvi.  9-18. — I  verily  thought'  with  myself,  that  I  ought  to  do 
many  things  contrary  to  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  Which 
thing  I  also  did  in  Jerusalem :  and  many  of  the  saints  did  I  shut 
up  in  prison,  having  received  authority  from  the  chief  priests ;  and 
when  they  were  put  to  death,  I  gave  my  voice  against  them.  And  I 
punished  them  oft  in  every  synagogue,  and  compelled  them  to  blas- 
pheme ;  and  being  exceedingly  mad  against  them,  I  persecuted  them 
even  unto  strange  cities.  Whereupon,  as  I  went  to  .Damascus,  with 
authority  and  commission  from  the  chief  priests,  at  midday,  O  king, 
I  saw  in  the  way  a  light  from  lieaven,  above  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 
shining  round  about  me  and  them  that  journeyed  with  me.  And  when 
we  were  all  fallen  to  the  earth,  I  heard  a  voice  speakirig  unto  me,  and 
saying  in  the  Hebrew  tongue,  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me  ? 
It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks.  And  I  said,  Who  art 
thou,  Lord  ?  And  he  said,  I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest.  But 
rise,  and  stand  upon  thy  feet :  for  I  have  appeared  unto  thee  for  this 
purpose,  to  make  thee  a  minister  and  a  witness  both  of  these  things 
which  thou  hast  seen,  and  of  those  things  in  the  which  I  will  appear 
unto  thee;  deliocring  thee  from  the  people,  and  from  the  gentiles, 
unto  whom  now  I  send  thee,  to  open  their  eyes,  and  to  turn  them  from 
darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  that  they 
may  receive  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  inheritance  among  them  which 
are  sanctified  by  faith  that  is  in  me. 

The  conversion  of  St.  Paul  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  facts 
recorded  in  the  sacred  Scriptures ;  and,  whether  we  consider  it  as 
affording  a  demonstration  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  or  as  illustrating 
the  power  of  divine  grace,  it  is  deserving  of  most  deep  meditation. 

So  sudden  a  transformation  of  character  as  this  narrative  presents 
must  surely  be  acknowledged  to  deserve  a  thorough  investigation  by 
all  who  conceive  the  principles  of  human  conduct  a  proper  object  of 
attention  and  inquiry.  It  is  surely  natural  to  look  into  the  cause  of 
such  a  change,  as  well  as  to  consider  the  ellects  which  it  produced, 
and  the  issue  to  which  it  tended. 

Every  Christian  is  so  well  acquainted  with  the  sufferings  and  labours 


ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.  79 

of  this  chief  of  the  apostles,  and  has  contracted  so  sacred  a  friendship 
with  the  name  of  Paul,  that  the  circumstances  which  led  to  so  great 
a  revolution  in  his  character  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting. 

Let  us  then,  in  dependence  on  Divine  assistance,  take  a  review  of 
the  most  striking  particulars  of  this  transaction,  and  endeavour  to  raise 
such  reflections  as  the  subject  may  naturally  suggest. 

I.  Let  us  consider  his  previous  character  and  conduct,  and  the  actual 
state  of  his  mind  immediately  before  the  change  took  place. 

L  Of  the  incidents  of  his  early  life  we  are  not  furnished  with  very 
full  and  distinct  information.  We  learn  that  he  was  a  native  of  Tarsus 
in  Cilicia,  a  city  famous  for  its  schools  of  philosophy,  as  well  as  for 
having  given  birth  to  some  of  the  most  eminent  philosophers.  His 
extraction,  both  on  the  side  of  his  father  and  mother,  was  purely 
Jewish  ;  but,  owing  to  some  benefit  conferred  on  his  ancestors  he  was 
entitled  by  his  birth  to  the  privileges  of  a  Roman  citizen.  His  educa- 
tion was  learned  ;  for  he  was  born  at  Tarsus,  and  spent  his  first  years 
there.  He  came  at  an  early  period  to  Jerusalem,  and  was  brought  up 
at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  a  member  of  the  Sanhedrim,  and  a  celebrated 
doctor  of  the  law.  This  was  that  Gamaliel  who,  by  his  temperate 
and  judicious  advice,  restrained  the  violence  of  the  Jewish  council, 
who  were  determined  to  put  Peter  and  John  to  death.  His  young 
disciple,  Saul,  seems  to  have  imbibed  nothing  of  his  moderation,  but 
to  have  been  uniformly  instigated  by  a  most  implacable  fury  against 
the  Christian  cause.  From  his  earliest  youth  he  was  of  the  "strictest 
sect  of  the  Pharisees,"  who  were  not  satisfied  with  complying  with 
every  punctilio  of  the  Mosaic  law,  but  adopted  amulthude  of  traditions 
and  ceremonies  of  human  invention,  which  they  placed  on  the  same 
footing,  and  deemed  equally  certain. 

In  common  with  the  greater  part  of  his  countrymen,  he  held  the 
perpetual  and  eternal  obligation  of  the  Mosaic  law,  and  depended  on 
his  legal  performances  entirely  for  salvation.  Though  the  sacrifices 
ordained  under  the  law  point^  to  the  atonement  of  Jesus  Christ,-  he 
overlooked  this  reference  ;  and,  full  of  a  confidence  in  his  owiv  rectitude, 
abhorred  and  disdained  the  idea  of  being  indebted  for  salvation  to  a 
crucified  Messiah.  The  poverty  and  meanness  of  Christ  was  an 
offence  to  his  proud  and  haughty  spirit ;  and  the  cross,  which  he 
endured  for  the  expiation  of  sin,  was  a  stumbling-block.  He  believed, 
no  doubt,  in  a  Messiah  ;  but  the  person  he  expected  under  that  charac- 
ter was  a  great  and  victorious  prince,  invested  with  secular  pomp  and 
glory  :  who  was  to  break  asunder  the  Roman  yoke,  and  raise  the  Jews 
to  the  pinnacle  of  human  greatness  :  and  therefore,  when  he  observed 
that  Jesus  was  so  far  from  accomplishing  these  hopes  that  he  died  the 
death  of  the  meanest  malefactor,  he  regarded  him  as  a  mean  and  de- 
testable impostor.  When  he  heard  the  apostles  testify  his  resurrec- 
tion, assure  him  that  he  was  exalted  at  the  right-hand  of  God,  and 
that  salvation  and  the  remission  of  sins  were  to  be  sought  solely 
through  his  blood,  his  prejudices  rose  to  the  utmost  violence ;  and  he 
resented  a  doctrine  which  he  considered  as  offering  an  insult  to  the 
whole  Jewish  nation.     As  he  was  taught  to  look  upon  the  Jews  as  the 


80  ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL. 

distinguished  favourites  of  the  Most  High,  while  he  considered  the 
gentiles  as  reprobate  and  accursed  ;  he  abhorred  the  thought  of  that 
new  doctrine  which  threatened  to  break  down  the  "  wall  of  partition," 
and  to  admit  gentiles  and  Jews  to  participate  in  the  same  privileges. 
He  knew  that  the  apostles  were  wont  to  denounce  the  judgments  of 
God  on  the  Jewish  nation,  for  llieir  rejection  of  Christ ;  and  though 
they  would  naturally  maintain  a  prudent  reserve  on  the  subject  of 
their  approaching  calamities  as  a  nation,  they  must  have  been  well 
aware,  from  several  of  our  Lord's  parables,  and  particularly  from  his 
last  prophecy,  that  the  time  was  approaching  when  the  temple  at 
Jerusalem  would  be  destroyed,  its  services  abolished,  the  holy  city 
trodden  under  foot,  and  the  Jewish  people  be  carried  captive  into  all 
nations.  It  was  some  intimation  of  this  kind  in  the  discourses  of 
Stephen  which  gave  birth  to  the  accusation — "We  have  heard  him 
speak  blasphemous  words  against  Moses,  and  against  God."  They 
set  up  false  witnesses,  which  said,  "  This  man  ceaseth  not  to  speak 
blasphemous  words  against  this  holy  place  and  the  law  :  for  we  have 
heard  him  say,  that  this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  shall  destroy  this  place, 
and  shall  change  the  customs  which  Moses  delivered  us."  Under  these 
impressions,  Saul  looked  upon  the  Christian  sect  as  directly  opposed 
to  the  dignity  and  perpetuity  of  the  temple,  the  Mosaic  law,  and  all 
the  ceremonies  and  privdeges  by  which  the  descendants  of  Abraham 
were  distinguished  from  pagan  nations. 

All  the  prejudices  of  education,  all  the  pride  of  a  Jew,  and  the  self- 
righteousness  of  a  Pharisee  conspired  with  the  violence  of  youth  and 
eager  ambition  to  acquire  the  esteem  of  his  superiors,  and  hurried  him 
to  the  utmost  excesses  in  opposing  the  cause  of  Christ.  He  seems 
to  have  devoted  his  life  to  one  object, — the  utter  extirpation,  if  possible, 
of  the  Christian  name.  When  Stephen  was  stoned,  he  was  consenting 
to,  or  rather  felt  a  pleasure  in  his  death  ;  and  so  zealous  did  he  appear 
on  this  occasion,  that  the  witnesses  laid  down  their  clothes  at  his 
feet  while  they  engaged  in  this  work  of  blood.  The  death  of  Stephen 
was  a  signal  of  a  general  persecution,  in  which  Saul  appears  to  have 
taken  a  very  active  part :  "  As  for  Saul,  he  made  great  havoc  of  the 
church,"  saith  St.  Luke,  "  entering  into  every  house,  and  haling  men 
and  women,  committed  them  to  prison.""^  Having  received  a  commis- 
sion from  the  higli-priest,  he  went  on  the  same  errand  to  Damascus  ; 
that  if  he  found  there  any  "  of  the  same  way"  he  might  bring  them 
bound  to  Jerusalem.  During  his  journey  he  was  revolving  with  delight 
the  confusion  and  misery  he  should  produce  among  the  defenceless 
followers  of  Christ ;  and  when  he  drew  near  enough  to  Damascus  to 
take  a  view  of  the  city,  he  no  dou!)t  exulted  at  the  idea  of  being  so 
near  his  prey.  He  feasted  in  the  prospect  of  scattering  the  sheep  of 
Christ,  of  dissolving  their  assemblies,  and  inflicting  upon  them  the 
severest  sufl'erings  his  malice  could  devise :  "  he  breathed  out  threat- 
enings  and  slaughter."!  Little  did  he  think  of  the  change  he  was  about 
to  undergo  ; — little  did  he  [anticipate]  that  astonishing  scene  of  things 

*  Acts  via.  3.  t  Acts  ix.  1. 


ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.  gl 

which  was  about  to  be  laid  open  to  his  view.  He  had  hitherto  confined 
his  persecutions  to  Jerusalem  and  its  immediate  environs  :  he  had  now 
procured  a  more  enlarged  commission,  which  extended  to  a  remote 
city.  Damascus  was  nearly  two  hundred  miles  distant  from  Jerusa- 
lem. [It  was  in  Syria;  and  was  at  that  time  under  the  dominion  of 
Aretas,  king  of  Arabia  Petraea,  a  prince  tributary  to  the  Roman  empire  : 
under  him  was  a  governor  who]  permitted  the  interference  of  the 
Sanhedrim  with  the  synagogues,  [and  greatly  favoured  those  that 
persecuted  the  disciples  of  Christ.*] 

We  cannot  conceive  a  state  of  mind  more  unfavourable  to  Christianity, 
or  less  likely  to  issue  in  a  cordial  subjection  to  Christ,  than  that  of 
which  Saul  was  possessed  at  that  moment.  During  a  long  journey, 
no  misgivings  of  mind,  no  emotions  of  pity  towards  the  innocent 
objects  of  his  resentment,  nor  the  smallest  hesitation  respecting  the 
propriety  and  rectitude  of  his  proceedings,  appear  to  have  been  felt. 

Notwithstanding  this,  he  was  suddenly  stopped  in  his  career,  and 
effectually  diverted  from  his  purposes.  The  means  by  which  this  was 
accomplished,  the  inspired  historian  distinctly  relates.  He  was  a 
"  chosen  vessel,"!  and  he  was  "  separated  from  his  mother's  womb.";{: 
The  moment  was  arrived  in  which  the  gracious  designs  of  God  were 
to  unfold  themselves.  But  with  what  awful  majesty  is  God  pleased 
to  attemper  the  dispensations  of  his  grace  towards  guilty  men  !  When 
he  is  pleased  to  show  mercy,  it  is  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself,  in  a 
manner  most  adapted  to  stain  the  pride  of  man,  and  to  cause  "  that  no- 
flesh  should  glory  in  his  presence."  If  the  God  with  whom  we  have 
to  do  appears  great  and  awful  in  the  revelation  of  his  mercy,  what 
will  he  be  in  the  execution  of  his  justice  on  the  finally  impenitent  1 
Hitherto  we  have  witnessed  the  dominance  of  pride,  bigotry,  and 
passion,  suffered  to  operate  without  coiurol ;  we  are  now  to  contem- 
plate the  interposition  of  Divine  grace  in  abasing  that  pride,  dispelling 
that  prejudice,  allaying  tlie  tumult  of  that  passion.  We  shall  see,  in 
the  instance  before  us,  what  methods  the  Lord  Jesus  adopted,  more 
fully  to  apprehend  the  fugitive  and  the  rebel ;  to  soften  his  heart,  and 
make  him  become  a  willing  captive  at  his  feet :  "And  as  he  journeyed 
he  came  near  Damascus  :  and  suddenly  there  shone  round  about  him 
a  light  from  heaven  ;  and  he  fell  to  the  earth,  and  heard  a  voice  saying 
unto  him,  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?  And  he  said,  Who 
art  thou.  Lord  ?  And  he  said,  I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest :  it 
is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks. "i^ 

In  his  speech  before  Agrippa,  St.  Paul  relates  the  circumstance  of 
the  light  shining  round  him,  in  the  following  manner :  "  At  midday, 
O  king,  I  saw  in  the  way  a  light  from  heaven,  above  the  brightness  of 
the  sun,  shining  round  about  me  and  them  that  journeyed  with  me." 
This  light  was  not  indebted  to  a  surrounding  obscurity  for  any  part  of 
its  lustre  :    on  tlie  contrary,  it  shone  forth  at  midday  with  a  splendour 

*  See  2  Cor.  xi.  32  ;  and  Joseph,  de  Bell.  Jud.  lib.  ii.  cap.  25.  The  Romans,  says  Grotius,  allowed 
the  Jews  the  privjlese  of  "  appretieniiing  and  beating,"  not  only  with  regard  to  the  Jews  of  Pales- 
tine, but  also  out  of  Piilestine,  wherever  there  were  synagogues  that  acknowledged  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  Sanhedrim  in  matters  of  religion.— Ed. 

t  Acts  IX.  15.  i  Gal.  i.  15.  (,  Acts  i.x.  3-5. 

Vol.  III.— F 


82  ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL. 

that  eclipsed  the  beams  of  a  meridian  sun.  It  was  the  light  of  [divine] 
glory  which  Saul  beheld  on  this  occasion  ;  that  light  unapproachalile 
in  which  Jesus  Christ  continually  dwells.  It  was  of  the  same  nature 
as  that  which  St.  John  describes  in  his  vision,  when  he  says,  "  His 
countenance  was  as  the  sun  shining  in  his  strength."  It  was  that  light 
in  which  he  will  appear  when  he  comes  to  judge  the  world,  "  and 
every  eye  shall  see  him." 

Much  as  the  prophets  and  apostles  have  said  of  the  glory  of  Christ, 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  form  an  adequate  conception  of  it :  the  full 
revelation  of  it  is  reserved  for  a  future  state,  when,  if  we  are  true 
Chyistians,  "  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."* 

How  short  is  the  transition  between  this  and  the  unseen  world  ! — • 
How  soon,  when  God  pleases,  can  he  transport  his  creatures  into 
higher  scenes  of  existence  !  It  is  but  for  him  to  draw  aside  the  veil, 
and  objects  are  presented  to  the  view,  compared  to  which  whatever  is 
most  admired  on  earth  is  mean  and  contemptible.  Every  moment  we 
stand  upon  the  confines  of  an  eternal  state,  and,  without  dissolving  the 
connexion  between  soul  and  body,  God  can  open  a  passage  into  the 
"  heaven  of  heavens."  Why  should  we  doubt  of  good  men's  being 
admitted  into  the  more  immediate  presence  of  Christ  at  death,  when 
we  consider  what  Saul  was  permitted  to  see  and  hear  before  he  was 
finally  removed  from  this  world  ?  St.  Stephen  beheld  the  heavens  opea, 
and  the  Son  of  man  standing  at  the  right-hand  of  God ;  and  Saul,  in 
the  transaction  before  us,  was  permitted  to  see  that  Just  One,  and  to 
hear  the  words  of  his  mouth.  Along  with  the  light  a  voice  was  heard, 
saying,  "  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me  1  And  he  said.  Who  ai't 
thou,  Lord  ?     And  he  said,  I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest." 

This  solemn  question  is  replete  with  instruction.  He  does  not  con- 
descend to  reason  with  Saul ;  he  enters  into  no  vindication  of  his  cause : 
with  the  dignity  suited  to  his  character,  he  expostulates  and  warns. 

It  deserves  our  attention,  that  he  identifies  himself  with  his  disciples  ; 
he  makes  their  cause  entirely  his  own,  and  considers  what  is  done 
against  them  as  against  himself:  "  Why  persecutest  thou  me?"  Christ 
and  believers,  notwithstanding  the  immense  disparity  of  their  circum- 
stances, are  one.  He  is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  their  sufferings  ;  and 
whatever  insults  or  reproaches  are  oflered  to  them  for  his  name's  sake, 
he  feels  and  resents  as  done  to  himself.  Let  those  who  are  tempted 
to  insult  and  despise  the  followers  of  Christ  on  account  of  their  con- 
scientious adherence  to  him,  remember  that  their  scofli's  and  insults 
reach  higher  than  they  may  apprehend ;  they  will  be  considered  as 
falling  on  their  Sovereign  and  their  Judge. 

Personal  injuries  it  is  impossible  now  to  ofler  to  the  Saviour ;  but 
the  state  of  our  hearts  towards  him  will  be  judged  by  our  treatment  of 
his  followers :  and  he  has  warned  us,  that  it  were  better  a  "  millstone 
were  hanged  round  our  neck,  and  we  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
than  that  we  should  injure  one  of  these  little  ones  who  believe  on  him."t 

In  answer  to  the  inquiry,  "  Who  art  thou.  Lord  ?"  he  replies,  "  I  am 
Jesus,  whom  thou  persecutest."     You  will  observe,  he  does  not  style 

*  1  John  iii.  2.  j  Matt,  xviii.  6. 


ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.  gS 

himself  here  the  Christ,  or  the  Son  of  God — "  I  am  Jesus  of  Nazareth." 
Jesus  was  the  proper  name  of  our  Lord,  a  common  appellation  among 
the  Jews,  and  the  addition  of  Nazareth  had  usually  been  made  as 
expressive  of  contempt.  In  contempt,  He  was  usually  styled  "  the 
Nazarene."  Our  Lord  was  determined  to  confound  Paul  by  the 
meanest  of  his  appellations,  and  resolved  to  efface  the  ignominy 
attached  to  this  appellation,  and  to  cause  himself  to  be  adored  by  Saul 
under  the  very  names  by  which  he  had  been  most  vilified  and  con- 
temned. "It  is  hard,"  he  adds,  "for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks." 
He  compares  Paul  to  the  bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke,  who,  in 
order  to  free  himself,  wounds  himself  by  kicking  against  the  goads. 
Thus  fruitless  is  all  opposition  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  It  will  be 
injurious,  it  will  be  destructive  to  ourselves  if  not  desisted  from,  but 
can  never  eventually  injure  the  cause  against  which  it  is  directed. 
The  heathen  may  rage,  and  yet  "  the  Lord  hath  set  his  King  upon  his 
holy  hill  of  Zion,"*  and  there  he  will  for  ever  continue  to  sit. 

To  all  who  oppose  him  he  will  prove  a  burdensome  stone,  "  a  stone 
of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  offence."!  "  Whosoever  shall  fall  upon  it 
shall  be  broken ;  but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him  to 
powder."! 

To  those  who  judge  by  the  eyes  of  flesh,  persecuting  the  servants 
of  Christ  may  possibly  appear  a  very  easy  task ;  but  to  those  who 
remember  who  is  engaged  to  be  their  Protector  it  will  appear  in  a  very 
different  light — it  will  appear  tlie  most  dangerous  employment  in 
which  they  can  be  engaged. 

The  time  will  come,  my  brethren,  when  we  shall  perceive  we  might 
as  safely  have  insulted  the  prince  upon  his  throne  as  persecuted  Christ 
in  the  person  of  the  meanest  of  his  members. 

"  It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks."  How  many  Pontius 
Pilates  and  Herods,  in  different  ages,  has  this  crime  doomed  to  destruc- 
tion !  We  may  trace  the  effects  of  it  in  the  astonishing  scenes  that 
are  now  passing  in  the  world.  We  may  behold  it  in  the  subversion 
of  thrones,  and  the  misery  and  desolation  of  kingdoms.  For  though 
the  immediate  instrument  employed  in  inflicting  these  calamities  is  the 
insatiable  ambition  of  an  individual,  they  must  in  general  be  traced  to 
higher  sources — the  unrepented  crime  of  persecution.  Who  that  reads 
the  prophecies  but  sees  that  it  is  the  weight  of  Christian  blood — the  blood 
of  the  martyrs  of  Jesus,  that  now  presses  and  weighs  down  the  nations 
of  the  continent,  and  makes  them  reel  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man: 
"  They  have  shed  the  blood  of  saints  and  of  prophets,  and  the  Lord 
has  given  them  blood  to  drink,  for  they  are  worthy."^ 

Let  us  guard  against  whatever  approaches  to  this  crime.  If  you 
wUl  not  walk  in  the  ways  of  religion  yourself — if  you  will  not  take  the 
yoke  of  Christ  upon  you,  at  least  be  careful  to  abstain  from  vilifying 
and  reproaching  his  servants.  Respect  tlie  piety  you  are  not  disposed 
to  imitate. 

"  What  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  He  makes  no  stipulation  ;  his 
surrender  of  himself  is  absolute ;  the  words  he  utters  are  expressive 

*  Psalm  ii.  6.  t  Isaiah  viii.  14.  X  Euk»  xx.  18.  vj  Rev.  xvi.  6. 

F2 


84  THE  LAMB  SLAIN  THE  OBJECT  OF 

of  absolute  submission.     Such  a  surrender  of  ourselves  into  the  hands 
of  Christ,  such  a  submission  from  us  [also]  is  absolutely  necessary. 

He  is  directed  what  to  do,  and  he  complies  punctually  with  the 
direction.     "  He  was  not  disobedient  to  the  heavenly  vision."*     For  a 
further  account  of  our  Saviour's  address,  see  Acts  xxvi.  16-18. 
.    He  was  blinded  by  the  light.     (Acts  xxii.  11.) 

He  gave  himself  up  to  solitude  and  prayer. 

He  would  doubtless  reflect  on  the  following  things  : — 

1.  On  what  he  had  seen. 

2.  On  what  he  had  done. 

3.  On  what  lay  before  him. 


XV. 

THE  LAMB  SLAIN  THE  OBJECT  OF  RAPTURE  TO  THE 
HEAVENLY  HOSTS. 

Rev.  v.  6. — And  I  beheld,  and  lo,  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  and  of  the 
four  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  ciders,  stood  a  Lamb  as  it  had 
been  slain. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  John  is  presented  with  a  magnificent  vision : 
a  door  is  opened  in  heaven,  through  which  he  passes,  and  beholds  the 
throne  of  God,  and  the  Almighty  sitting  upon  it.  The  several  orders 
of  creatures  which  make  their  appearance  there  celebrate  a  solemn 
act  of  worship  to  him  "  which  was,  and  which  is,  and  which  is  to 
come,  saying,  'J'hou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive  glory,  and  honour, 
and  power ;  for  thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  for  thy  pleasure  they 
are  and  were  created."! 

As  the  holy  apostle  was  now  "on  the  point  of  being  instructed  in 
those  mysteries  of  Providence  whose  accomplishment  was  to  reach 
from  the  time  of  this  vision  to  the  consummation  of  all  things,  involving 
the  remotest  destinies  of  the  church  and  of  the  world,  so  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  imparted  is  such  as  must  give  us  the  highest  idea  of  its 
importance.  It  formed  the  contents  of  a  roll  of  a  book  in  the  hand 
of  him  that  sat  on  the  throne,  "  written  within  and  on  the  backside,  and 
sealed  with  seven  seals. "J  The  whole  universe  is  challenged  to  fur- 
nish one  who  is  capable  of  loosing  these  seals  and  exploring  its  contents. 
"And  I  saw  a  strong  angel  proclaiming  with  a  loud  voice,  AVIio  is 
worthy  to  oj)en  the  book,  and  to  loose  the  seals  thereof?  And  no  man 
in  heaven,  nor  in  earih,  neither  under  the  earth,  was  able  to  open  the 
book,  neitlier  to  look  thereon. "§ 

The  apostle,  whose  mind  was  inflamed  with  solicitude  to  be  made 
acquainted  with  these  mysteries,  wept  much  at  finding  there  was  none 

•  Acts  xxvi.  19.  t  Rev.  iv.  8, 10,  U.  j  Rev.  v.  1.  $  Rev.  v.  2,  3. 


RAPTURE  TO  THE  HEAVENLY  HOSTS.         85 

worthy  to  loose  the  seals  and  to  open  the  book.  And  one  of  the 
elders  said  unto  him,  "  Weep  not :  behold,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of 
Judah,  the  Root  of  David,  hath  prevailed  to  open  the  book,  and  to 
loose  the  seven  seals  thereof." 

Under  this  emblem  Jesus  Christ  is  represented,  alluding  to  the 
prophetic  benediction  of  the  patriarch  Jacob — "Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp: 
from  the  prey,  my  son,  thou  art  gone  up  :  he  stooped  down,  he  couched 
as  a  lion,  and  as  an  old  lion  ;  who  shall  rouse  him  up  1  The  sceptre," 
he  adds,  "  shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  a  lawgiver  from  between 
his  feet,  until  Shiloh  come."*  Judah  was  the  regal  tribe,  and  famous 
for  its  warlike  exploits  ;  distinguished  by  a  succession  of  illustrious 
princes  and  conquerors,  the  descendants  of  David,  who  were  at  most 
but  the  forerunners  and  representatives  of  an  incomparably  greater 
personage,  the  Son  of  God,  who,  after  he  had  vanquished  the  powers 
of  darkness,  was  to  be  invested  with  an  everlasting  dominion,  that  all 
nations,  tongues,  and  people  should  serve  him. 

While  John  was  expecting  to  see  some  majestic  appearance,  he 
beheld,  and  lo,  a  Lamb  with  the  marks  of  recent  slaughter  presented 
himself  before  the  throne,  and  he  came  and  took  the  book  out  of  the 
right  hand  of  him  that  sat  on  it :  upon  wliich  the  several  orders  of 
creatures  "  fell  down  before  the  Lamb,  having  every  one  of  them  harps, 
and  golden  vials  full  of  odours,  which  are  the  prayers  of  the  saints. 
And  they  sung  a  new  song,  saying,  Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book 
and  to  open  the  seals  thereof;  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed 
us  to  God  by  thy  blood,  out  of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people, 
and  nation,  and  hast  made  us  unto  our  God  kings  and  priests;  and  we 
shall  reign  on  the  earth. "t 

Emblems  of  weakness,  of  innocence,  and  of  suflering  made  part  in 
a  scene  where  [we  might]  suppose  nothing  to  enter  but  immingled  gran- 
deur. Nor  are  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ  in  our  nature  merely  indis- 
tinctly introduced  ;  they  are  the  principal  objects  presented  to  the  view  ; 
they  are  made  the  basis  of  that  wonderful  act  of  adoration  in  which  every 
creature  in  the  universe  unites.  The  portion  of  Scripture  which  I 
have  selected  for  our  present  improvement,  thus  introduced,  suggests 
the  two  following  important  observations. 

L  That  the  distinguishing  merit  of  Christ  arises  from  his  having 
redeemed  us  to  God  by  his  blood. 

IL  That  this  part  of  his  character  engages  the  attention  and  the 
adoration  of  the  heavenly  world. 

L  That  which  distinguishes  the  character  of  Christ  from  all  other 
beings  is  his  condescension  for  the  salvation  of  men. 

\.  The  Scriptures  uniformly  teach  us  to  look  upon  the  death  of 
Christ  in  a  light  totally  distinct  from  ihat  of  any  other  person.  Con- 
sidered in  itself  it  is  not  at  all  extraordinary,  for  in  every  age  we  find 
examples  of  those  who  have  sealed  the  divine  truth  with  their  blood. 
We  learn  from  the  New  Testament  that  such  was  the  end  of  Stephen, 
of  James,  of  Paul,  and  of  Peter.  It  is  one  of  those  trials  which  Jesus 
warned  his  disciples  to  expect,  insomuch  that  to  be  prepared  at  his 

*  Gen.  xlix.  9,  ]0.  |  Rev.  v.  8-10. 


86  THE  LAMB  SLAIN  THE  OBJECT  OF 

call  to  surrender  their  lives  was  an  inseparable  condition  of  becoming 
his  followers.  But  to  none  of  their  sufferings  were  such  purposes 
assigned,  such  effects  ascribed,  as  are  uniformly  ascribed  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  Saviour. 

"  Precious,"  indeed,  "  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his 
saints,"  but  it  is  never  represented  as  having  the  remotest  connexion 
with  the  remission  of  sins.  They  are  never  represented  as  set  forth 
for  a  propitiation.  Where  is  the  death  of  Peter  or  of  Paul  spoken  of 
in  such  language  as  this  : — "  He  who  knew  no  sin  was  made  sin  for 
us,  that  we  might  become  the  righteousness  of  God  through  him  :"* — 
"  He  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all ;  the  chastisement  of  our  peace 
was  upon  him,  and  by  his  stripes  we  were  healed  ;"t — "  He  was  deliv- 
ered for  our  offences,  and  rose  again  for  our  justification  ;"J — not  to 
mention  innumerable  other  passages  equally  clear  and  decisive  ?  What 
language  that  bears  the  least  resemblance  to  this  is  applied  to  any 
other  subject?  The  great  apostle  speaks  of  Christ's  dying  beha^ 
viour  as  a  part  of  his  character  which  was  altogether  inimitable : 
"  Was  Paul  crucified  for  you  1  or  were  ve  baptized  in  the  name  of 
Paul  ?"^ 

2.  Accordingly,  the  inspired  writers  never  mention  the  death  of 
Christ  without  emotions  of  devout  rapture.  The  prayer  of  Paul  for 
his  Christian  converts  was,  that  they  might  "  know  the  love  of  Christ, 
which  passeth  knowledge. "||  It  is  the  grand  argument  which  they 
employ  to  enforce  the  obligation  of  Christians  to  love  each  other, 
"  even  as  Christ  also  hath  loved  us,  and  given  himself  for  us,  an  offer- 
ing and  a  sacrifice  of  a  sweet-smelling  savour."ir  "  Herein  is  love," 
Jolm  exclaims,  "  not  that  we  loved  him,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  gave 
himself  for  us."**  This  love  was  the  motive  which,  with  a  sweet  but 
irresistible  violence,  impelled  them  to  devote  themselves  entirely  to  his 
service.  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraincth  us  ;  because  we  thus  judge, 
that  if  Christ  died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead :  and  he  died,  that  they 
who  live  should  not  henceforth  live  to  themselves,  but  to  him  who  died 
for  tliem."tt  As  the  morality  of  tlie  gospel  is  distinguished  from  that 
of  the  world  by  being  founded  in  love  ;  so  the  devout  contemplation 
of  the  love  of  Christ  is  the  grand  principle  which  kindles  and  inflames  it. 

3.  When  the  great  Ruler  of  the  world  was  pleased  to  accomplish 
his  secret  purpose  of  reconciling  tlie  sinful  race  of  man  to  himself,  by 
the  pardon  of  their  sins  and  the  renewal  of  their  natures,  he  saw  fit  to 
appoint  his  Son  to  be  their  surety,  to  assume  their  nature,  and  to  die 
in  their  stead  :  "  Great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness  ;  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh. "II  Instead  of  endeavouring  to  explore  all  the  secret  reasons 
of  this  wonderful  economy,  it  rather  becomes  us  thankfully  to  accept, 
and  devout!)^  to  adore  it.  It  is  sufficient  for  us  to  perceive,  that  no 
method  within  our  comprehension  could  have  equally  provided  for  the 
display,  at  once,  of  his  justice  and  of  his  mercy ;  his  spotless  purity, 
and  his  infinite  compassion.     In  making  his  Son  the  sacrifice,  justice 

*  2  Cor.  V.  21.  t  Isaiah  liii.  5,  6.  t  Rom.  Iv.  25. 

^  1  Cor.  i.  13.  II  Eplies.  iii.  19.  TT  Ephcs.  v.  2. 

*•  1  John  IV.  10.  It  2  Cor.  v.  14, 15.  U  1  I'm.  iu.  16. 


RAPTURE  TO  THE  HEAVENLY  HOSTS.        87 

appears  in  its  utmost  splendour ;  while,  in  freely  "  giving  him  up  for 
us  all,"  mercy  appears  in  its  most  attractive  form. 

The  highest  lessons  of  purity  and  holiness  are  learned  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross ;  and  if  we  are  desirous  of  discovering  an  effectual  antidote 
to  the  love  of  sin,  it  must  be  the  serious  and  steady  contemplation,  b}- 
faith,  of  Christ  crucified. 

4.  Salvation  through  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  though  it  forms  the 
distinguishing  feature  of  the  Christian  system,  was  not  peculiar  to  h. 
It  entered  into  every  dispensation  of  religion  communicated  by  God. 
A  multitude  of  types  and  figures  were  employed,  to  shadow  forth  the 
great  expiatory  sacrifice,  previous  to  his  manifestation  in  the  flesh. 
He  was  the  Paschal  Lamb  whose  "  blood,  sprinkled  on  the  posts  and 
lintels  of  the  doors,"*  secured  the  families  of  Israel  from  the  destroying 
angel,  in  the  night  when  God  slew  the  first-born  of  Egypt :  "  Christ, 
our  Passover,  was  sacrificed  for  us."t  He  was  prefigured  by  all  those 
burnt-oflerings  which  were  daily  offered  in  the  temple,  and  especially 
on  the  day  of  annual  atonement,  when  the  blood  of  the  victim  was 
carried  by  the  high-priest  into  the  holy  of  holies.  The  goat  that  was 
slain  on  that  occasion,  and  whose  blood  was  presented  before  the 
mercy-seat,  prefigured  the  vicarious  death  of  Christ,  and  his  entrance 
into  heaven ;  the  other,  called  the  scape-goat,  which,  after  having  the 
sins  of  the  congregation^  «  *  »  *  * 

#****♦*# 

II.  This  part  of  our  Saviour's  character  engages  the  attention  and 
adoration  of  the  heavenly  world. 

1.  They  adore  this  matchless  display  of  love  in  his  condescending 
to  become  man,  to  endure  reproaches  and  sufferings,  and  at  length  to 
expire  on  the  cross,  to  rescue  the  guilty  from  ruin.  These  benevolent 
spirits  are  not  unaccustomed  to  perform  kind  offices  for  men :  they 
oi'ten  appeared  under  the  ancient  economy  in  visible  form,  to  warn,  to 
instruct,  and  to  comfort ;  so  they  are  still  "  ministering  spirits,  sent 
forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  sidvation."'^  But 
nothing  which  they  ever  performed  bore  any  resemblance  to  the  incar- 
nation and  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ. 

On  no  other  occasion  did  love  ever  stoop  so  low,  endure  so  much, 
or  operate  in  so  free  and  spontaneous  a  manner.  He  who  assumed 
nothing  in  making  himself  equal  with  God  "took  upon  him  the  form, 
of  a  servant,  and  became  obedient  to  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross."!!  I'^  his  mj'sterious  descent,  he  passed  by  superior  orders  of 
being,  to  invest  himself  with  human  flesh.  He  who  was  the  "  Won- 
derful, the  Counsellor,  the  mighty  Ood,  the  everlasting  Father," 
condescended  to  become  the  "  Son  given,"  and  the  "  child  born." 
And  never  was  humiliation  so  deep,  never  was  there  reproach  and 
infamy  so  extreme  as  that  which  he  endured.  Loaded  with  the  most 
shameful  appellations,  and  persecuted  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life, 
in  its  last  scenes  he  was  arraigned  before  Pontius  Pilate,  smitten  on 

*  Exod.  xii.  7,  13.  t  I  Cor.  v.  7.  |  Lev.  xvi.  2,  20-34.    Heb.  ix.  7-15. 

$  Ueb.  i.  14.  II  Phil.  ii.  7,  8. 


88  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

the  face,  derided,  clothed  with  mock  robes,  buffeted,  scourged,  spit  upon. 
Never  were  there  such  indignities  heaped  on  any  head  as  on  that 
which  was  destmed  to  wear  many  crowns.  And  for  his  sufferings  ! — 
who  can  contemplate  that  hour  of  darkness  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane, 
when  his  soul  was  overwhehned  with  amazement  and  horror,  or  behold 
his  Hngering  torments  on  the  cross,  without  being  appalled  ?  It  is  a  trial 
to  human  fortitude  to  be  obliged  merely  to  think  of  what  he  actually 
endured.  And  for  whom?  For  the  sinners  of  Jerusalem!  for  many  of 
that  infatuated  multitude  who  were  impatient  for  his  crucifixion :  for 
some,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  who  were  employed  in  nailing  him  to 
the  cross !  for  a  Saul,  who  was  "  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaugh- 
t<^r"  against  his  followers :  for  millions  of  proud  and  daring  offenders, 
whom  this  unparalleled  love  was  to  soften  and  disarm  ! 

2.  They  contemplate  and  adore  in  the  death  of  Christ  a  new  dis- 
play of  the  divine  perfections.  The  wisdom  and  the  power  of  God 
.are  every  way  manifest.  His  goodness  may  be  traced  in  innumerable 
portions  of  his  works.  He  had  displayed  his  justice  in  the  punishment 
of  fallen  angels,  M'ho  wei-e  reserved  in  chains  of  darkness  against  the 
judgment  of  the  great  day.  But  there  remained  a  new  view  of  the 
divine  character.  God  was  pleased  to  present  himself  in  a  new  light 
to  the  adoration  of  his  creatures.  He  was  pleased  to  show,  in  the 
-same  transaction,  the  most  determined  hatred  to  sin,  with  the  utmost 
compassion  to  the  sinner ;  the  most  inflexible  adherence  to  rectitude, 
with  the  utmost  riches  of  grace  to  the  undeserving; — "a  just  God,  yet 
a  Saviour."  He  resolved  to  exhibit  in  the  person  of  his  Son  a  new 
spectacle  to  the  universe:  a  person  the  most  majestic,  and  the  most 
humble;  the  most  powerful,  and  the  most  compassionate;  an  authoriiy 
which  should  subdue  to  itself  "  all  principality;" — a  Saviour  wlo 
should  "  feed  his  flock  like  a  shepherd  ;" — "  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of 
Judah,"  and  "  the  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 

3.  They  rejoiced  at  the  immense  accession  of  happiness  which  they 
perceived  to  flow  from  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ. 

(1.)  How  safe  is  the  worship  of  Christ ! 

(2.)  How  necessary  to  inquire  how  we  stand  affected  towards  the 
Saviour ! 

(3.)  How  much  the  supreme  love  of  Clirist,  and  an  humble  afiiance 
in  his  merhs,  tends  to  prepare  for  the  happiness  of  heaven ! 


XVI. 

THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

Psalm  cxlv.  11. — They  shall  speak  of  the  glory  of  thy  kingdom. 

The  absolute  dominion  of  God,  as  the  universal  Proprietor  and  Lord, 
is  an  object  which  deserves  most  devoutly  to  be  celebrated.     It  is,  in 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  89 

fact,  the  frequent  theme  of  the  praises  dictated  under  the  inspiration  of 
the  Spirit  in  the  sacred  oracles.  But  there  is  another  of  the  dominions 
of  God,  considered  in  relation  to  his  saints, — an  empire  of  knowledge 
and  of  love,  whose  administration  is  intrusted  to  his  Son, — which  is 
celebrated  in  still  sublimer  strains,  and  forms  the  principal  theme  of 
the  New  Testament.  This  is  emphatically  denominated  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  or  that  kingdom  which  the  God  of  heaven  should  set  up, 
given  to  "  the  saints  of  the  Most  High,"  which  is  to  be  of  everlasting 
duration,  and  never  to  be  succeeded  by  another.  Whether  the  Psalm 
before  us  is  intended  to  describe  this  species  of  rule  and  authority,  in 
distinction  from  the  other,  I  shall  not  undertake  to  determine  ;  but  as 
these  divine  compositions  are  unquestionably  frequently  employed  in 
portraying  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  or  the  Messiah,  it  is  hoped  it  will  not 
be  deemed  improper  to  consider  the  words  in  that  light. 

Let  us  direct  our  thoughts,  then,  for  a  short  season,  to  the  glory  of 
the  kingdom  of  Christ.  With  this  [view],  it  may  be  proper  to  reflect 
on  the  following  particulars.: — 

I.  The  glory  of  it  is  manifest  in  its  origin  and  the  method  by  which 
it  was  acquired.  It  had  its  origin  in  ineffable  mercy,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  perfect  wisdom  and  rectitude.  It  occupied  the  thoughts,  and 
was  the  object  of  the  counsels  of  the  Eternal,  before  the  heavens  were 
stretched  out,  or  the  foundation  of  the  earth  was  laid.  It  formed  the 
centre  of  the  divine  designs,  and  the  ultimate  point  to  which  every 
other  purpose  of  God  was  directed.  As  it  was  designed  to  be  die 
spiritual  reign  of  God  over  the  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  a 
[unanimous,  harmonious]  kingdom,  in  which  the  sovereign  and  the  sub- 
jects are  always  understood  to  be  of  the  same  nature,  it  was  necessary 
in  order  to  its  establishment  that  God  should  become  incarnate ;  it 
was  necessary,  not  only  for  the  redemption  of  his  church,  but  also  for 
the  purpose  of  their  being  governed  as  they  were  intended  to  be 
governed.  Ere  the  government  could  be  placed  "  on  his  shoulder,"* 
it  was  necessary  for  the  Messiah  to  be  "  a  child  born  and  a  son  given." 

Again,  since  in  this  kingdom  the  "  tabernacle  of  God"  was  to^  be 
"  with  men,"  and  he  was  to  "  dwell  among  them,"t  and  such  a  con- 
descension of  mercy  would  have  been  utterly  unbecoming  "  the  blessed 
and  only  Potentate,"^  without  a  signal  reparation  to  the  divine  honour 
tarnished  by  rebellion,  it  was  requisite  a  sacrifice  for  sin  should  be 
made,  worthy  of  the  occasion,  which  could  nowhere  be  procured  but 
by  "  the  offering  of  the  body  of  Christ,  once  for  all."^  The  inefficiency 
of  the  typical  sacrifices  under  the  law  proclaimed  the  necessity  of  one 
of  intrinsic  validity  and  infinite  value.  Thus  the  foundation  of  this 
empire  was  laid  in  the  incarnation  and  atonement  of  the  Son  of  God ; 
and  the  solidity  and  extent  of  its  foundations,  great  as  they  are,  are  but 
proportioned  to  the  majesty  and  duration  of  the  edifice. 

"  Every  battle  of  the  warrior,"  sa3's  the  prophet  Isaiah,  "  is  with  con- 
fused noise,  and  with  garments  rolled  in  blood  ;  but  this  shall  be  with 
burning  and  fuel  of  fire."||     The  kingdom   of  which   we  speak   is 

*  Isaiah  ix.  6.  t  Rev.  xxi.  3.  t  1  Tim.  vi.  15. 

^  Heb.  X.  10.  II  Isaiah  ix.  5. 


90  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

aoquiredby  conquest,  but  of  a  nature  totally  tJifferent  from  military  con- 
quest. The  weapons  employed  in  achieving  it  are  purely  spiritual — 
the  burning  of  conviction,  the  light  of  truth,  the  fire  of  love.  The 
simple  tesiiniony  of  Christ,  the  publication  of  the  gospel  by  the  "  fool- 
ishness of  preaching,"  have  produced  tlie  most  wonderful  changes  in 
the  world,  far  beyond  those  which  have  been  eflected  by  violence  or 
the  sword.  Before  these  simple  but  efficacious  histniments,  the  powers 
of  darkness  have  been  overcome ;  "  Satan  has  fallen  like  lightning 
from  heaven  ;"*  temples  have  been  overturned,  oracles  have  been 
struck  dumb,  the  arm  of  persecuting  power  has  been  withered  ;  and 
men  have,  in  every  part  of  the  world,  passed  through  chains,  and  racks, 
and  fires  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  Heavenly  truth,  love,  and  wisdom 
have  grappled  with  all  the  powers  of  falsehood  and  sophistry,  com- 
bined with  all  the  blandishments  and  terrors  of  the  world,  and  have 
gained  decisive  victory.  From  the  smallest  beginnings,  and  by  the 
most  contemptible  instruments,  to  human  appearance,  the  gospel,  by 
"  commending  itself  to  every  man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God,"t 
hath  triumphed  over  all  opposition,  and  is  still  going  forth  "  conquering, 
and  to  conquer."! 

It  is  thus  ihe  Spirit  of  God  addresses  the  Messiah,  in  portraying  his 
success  in  the  establishing  of  his  empire  :  "  Gird  thy  sword  upon  thy 
thigh,  O  Most  Mighty,  with  thy  glory  and  thy  majesty.  And  in  thy 
majesty  ride  prosperously,  because  of  truth,  and  meekness,  and 
righteousness  ;  and  thy  right  hand  shall  teach  thee  terrible  things. 
Thine  arrows  are  sharp  in  the  heart  of  the  king's  enemies  ;  whereby 
the  people  fall  under  thee."^  Truth,  meekness,  and  righteousness  are 
the  weapons  of  his  warfare,  and  the  rod  of  his  strength.  They  "  shall 
be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power ;"  they  are  a  conquered,  yet  a 
willing  people ;  they  submit  to  his  power,  but  cheerfully  and  gladly 
embrace  his  sceptre :  their  will  itself  is  so  changed,  their  hearts  so 
touched,  tliat  they  become  "  like  the  chariots  of  Ammi-nadib."|| 

Other  potentates  extend  their  empire  by  force,  and  by  imposing  their 
yoke  on  reluctant  necks ;  Jesus  Christ  by  love,  and  by  exhibiting  a 
matchless  example  of  condescension  and  [mercy.] 

2.  The  glory  of  this  kingdom  is  conspicuous  in  the  principles  by 
•which  it  is  administered.  Of  this  Prince  it  is  truly  said,  "  Righteous- 
ness shall  be  the  girdle  of  his  loins,  and  faithfulness  the  girdle  of  his 
reins.  He  shall  not  judge  after  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  nor  reprove 
after  the  hearing  of  his  ears :  but  with  righteousness  shall  he  judge 
the  poor,  and  reprove  with  equity  for  the  meek  of  the  earth. "F  The 
sceptre  of  his  dominion  is  grace  t  grace  displayed  in  the  gospel,  grace 
communicated  by  the  Spirit,  is  the  grand  instrument  of  maintaining  his 
empire.  He  reveals  his  glory  and  imparts  his  benefits,  and  thereby 
attaches  his  subjects  by  ties  at  once  the  most  forcible  and  the  most 
engaging. 

A  lovely  assemblage  of  qualities  characterizes  the  spirit  and  genius 
of  his  divine  administration  ;  an  incomparable  majesty,  united  to  a  most 

♦  Luke  X.  18.  t  2  Cor.  iv.  8.  }  Rev.  vi.  2. 

$  Psalm  xlv.  3-5.  ||  Cant.  vi.  12.  TI  Isaiah  xi.  3-5. 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  91 

endearing  condescension — a  spirit  of  benignity,  joined  to  impartial  jus- 
tice, distinguishes  his  conduct.  Though  the  subjects  of  this  kingdom 
are  admitted  to  it  on  no  other  condition  than  a  cordial  approbation  of  the 
character  of  the  Prince,  they  are  not  left  lawless  or  uncontrolled :  the 
revelation  of  the  divine  will  is  imparted  ;  the  most  perfect  measure  of  ho- 
liness and  rules  of  conduct  are  enjoined  on  the  conscience  and  impressed 
on  the  heart.  This  administration  exhibits  throughout  a  beautiful  model 
of  the  moral  government  of  God,  attempered  to  the  state  of  creatures 
who  have  fallen  from  their  original  recthude,  but  are  under  a  dispen- 
sation of  mercy.  A  system  of  paternal  justice  is  carried  into  execu- 
tion throughout  this  empire ;  in  consequence  of  which  the  disobedient 
ai-e  punished,  that  they  may  not  be  condemned  with  the  world.  The 
gradations  of  favours  are  regulated  by  the  Sovereign  with  the  most 
impartial  justice;  and  future  rewards  distributed  [with  exquisite  pro- 
priety and  rectitude.] 

Human  administrations  extend  only  to  outward  actions,  and  are 
conducted  entirely  by  external  and  visible  instruments.  Were  we  not 
united  to  a  fleshly  fabric,  they  would  be  incapable  of  reaching  us ;  so 
that  they  extend  more  properly  to  the  bodies  than  to  the  souls  of  men. 
The  dominion  of  Christ  is  chiefly  spiritual  and  internal :  the  soul  is 
the  subject  of  his  authority,  where  he  dwells  by  faith.  It  extends  to 
the  remotest  sentiments  of  the  mind,  "  casting  down  high  imaginations, 
and  bringing  into  captivity  every  thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ."* 
It  is  not  the  object  of  our  outward  senses  ;  it  is  within  us,  consisting 
not  in  "  meats  and  drinks,  but  in  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in 
the  Holy  Ghost."t 

The  benefits  which  human  governments  impart  are  principally  of  a 
negative  kind,  consisting  in  the  removal  of  those  checks  and  restraints 
which  the  unreasonable  passions  of  men  urge  them  to  impose  on  each 
other's  enjoyments.  The  utmost  that  the  wisest  earthly  government 
can  for  the  most  part  efi'ect,  is  to  overawe  the  mischievous,  to 


II.  It  is  glorious  with  respect  to  the  manner  in  which  it  is  adminis- 
tered :  "  The  God  of  Israel  said.  The  Rock  of  Israel  spake  to  me. 
He  that  ruleth  over  men  must  be  just,  ruling  in  the  fear  of  God.  And 
he  shall  be  as  the  light  when  the  sun  ariseth,  even  as  a  morning  with- 
out clouds  ;  as  the  tender  grass  springeth  out  of  the  earth  by  the  clear 
shining  after  rain."| 

The  most  essential  quality  in  a  virtuous  administration  is  justice. 
This  property  is  most  conspicuous  in  the  government  of  Christ  over 
his  people.  He  confers  no  benefit  upon  them  but  what  is  compatible 
with  the  strictest  rectitude,  having  previously  made  a  sufiicient  atone- 
ment for  their  transgressions.  And  in  every  part  of  his  administration, 
"righteousness  is  the  girdle  of  his  loins,  and  faithfulness  the  girdle  of 
his  reins. '"i^  With  perfect  equity  he  apportions  the  degrees  of  his 
favour  to  the  xespective  measures  of  their  attachment  and  obedience. 

♦  2  Cor.  X.  5.  t  Rom.  xiv.  17.  J  2  Sam.  xxiii.  3,  4.  $  Isa.  xi.  5. 


92  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

He  will  render  to  such  of  his  subjects  rewards,  not  properly  on  account 
of  their  works,  but  "  according  to  their  works."*  He  employs  the 
pure  and  holy  law  of  God  as  the  invariable  rule  of  their  conduct,  and 
shows  how  to  make  such  a  use  of  its  terrors  and  sanctions  as  is  sub- 
servient to  his  gracious  designs  ;  restraining  by  fear  those  who  are  not 
susceptible  of  more  liberal  and  generous  motives.  As  it  first  convinced 
them  of  sin,  so  it  is,  in  his  hands,  the  instrument  of  such  convictions 
as  the  measure  of  their  offence  may  require ;  and,  by  alarming  and 
awakening  the  conscience,  it  excites  to  repentance,  vigilance,  and 
prayer:  "As  many  as  I  love  I  rebuke,"  is  his  language  ;  "be  zealous, 
therefore,  and  repent,"t  "  for  I  have  not  found  thy  works  perfect  before 
God."| 

His  dominion  is  at  the  same  time  most  gentle,  gracious,  and  benign. 
Grace,  as  I  have  said,  is  the  sceptre  of  his  empire  ;  and  that  grace  is 
imparted  by  the  Spirit.  His  reign  is  indeed  "  the  reign  of  grace."^ 
He  reveals  his  glory,  he  manifests  ineffable  majesty  and  beauty, 
whereby  he  captivates  the  hearts  of  his  subjects,  and  "draws  them 
with  the  cords  of  a  man,  and  the  bands  of  love."||  AVith  the  most 
tender  compassion  he  "  delivers  the  needy  when  he  crieth,  the  poor, 
and  him  that  hath  no  helper.  He  spares  the  poor  and  the  needy,  and 
saves  the  souls  of  the  needy  :"F  "  When  the  poor  and  the  needy  seek 
watei-,  and  there  is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I  the  Lord 
M'ill  hear  them,  I  the  God  of  Israel  will  not  forsake  them.  I  will  open 
rivers  in  high  places,  and  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  valleys :  I  will 
make  the  wilderness  a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry  land  springs  of 
M-ater."** 

In  earthly  kingdoms  the  subjects  are  governed  merely  by  general 
laws,  which  are  of  necessity  very  imperfectly  adapted  to  the  infinite 
variety  of  cases  that  occur.  The  combinations  of  human  action  are 
too  numerous  and  diversified  to  be  adequately  included  in  any  general 
regulation  or  enactment;  whence  has  arisen  the  maxim, '^  Stmimum 
jus  summa  injuria,^'' — that  a  strict  adherence  to  the  letter  of  the  law 
would  often  be  the  greatest  injustice.  But  this  divine  dominion  sub- 
sists under  no  such  imperfections ;  for  the  Prince  is  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  the  secrets  of  the  heart.  He  also  pervades  every  part 
of  his  empire  by  his  presence,  and  can  consequently  make  a  specific 
and  personal  application  to  each  individual ;  can  imj)art  his  smiles  and 
his  favours,  the  expression  of  his  kindness  or  of  his  displeasure,  to  each 
individual  soul,  as  distinctly  as  though  it  were  the  only  subject  of  his 
empire. 

In  human  government  the  law  extends  to  outward  actions  only,  but 
the  good  and  the  evil  which  are  produced  by  it  are  almost  entirely 
confined  to  sensible  objects — to  such  objects  as  bear  a  relation  to  our 
corporeal  state. 


*  Matt.  xvi.  27.  t  Rev.  iii.  19.  t  Rev.  iii.  2.  <5  Rom.  v.  21. 

II  Hos.  xi.  4.  IT  Psalm  l.xxii.  13.       •*  Isa.  xli.  17,  18. 


ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.  93 

XVII. 

ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.* 

Lev.  xiii.  45. — And  the  leper  in  whom  the  plague  is,  his  clothes  shall 
be  rent,  and  his  head  bare,  and  he  shall  put  a  covering  upon  his  upper 
lip,  and  shall  cry,  Unclean,  unclean^ 

By  superficial  thinkers  it  has  been  objected  to  several  parts  of  the 
Mosaic  law,  that  its  injunctions  are  frivolous  and  minute,  and  of  a 
nature  that  ill  comports  with  the  majesty  and  wisdom  of  the  Supreme 
Being.  The  exact  specification  of  the  different  sorts  of  sacrifice,  the 
enumeration  of  the  different  sorts  of  creatures,  clean  and  unclean, 
and  the  various  species  of  ceremonial  defilement,  have  been  adduced 
as  examples  of  this  kind.  To  this  it  may  be  replied,  that,  at  this  dis- 
tance of  time,  we  know  too  little  of  the  superstitions  among  pagan 
nations,  and  consequently  of  the  peculiar  temptations  to  which  the 
ancient  Israelites  were  exposed,  to  enable  us  to  form  an  accurate  judg- 
ment respecting  the  expediency  or  necessity  of  those  provisions. 
Many  legal  enactments  which  appear  unseasonable  and  unnecessary 
to  a  distant  observer  and  a  remote  age,  on  close  investigation  of  the 
actual  circumstances  in  which  they  were,  are  discovered  to  be  replete 
with  propriety,  and  to  be  founded  on  the  highest  reason.  But  the  most 
satisfactory  answer  to  this,  and  to  most  other  objections  raised  against 
the  law  of  Moses,  is  derived  from  a  consideration  of  the  peculiar 
nature  of  that  institute,  which  was  throughout  figurative  and  typical. 
In  the  infancy  of  revealed  religion,  and  when  the  minds  of  men  were 
but  little  accustomed  to  refined  reflection,  it  became  necessary  to  com- 
municate moral  and  religious  instruction  by  actions  and  observances, 
and  to  address  their  reason  through  the  medium  of  their  senses.  The 
people  of  Israel,  at  the  time  they  came  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  having 
been  long  surrounded  by  idolatry,  and  in  a  state  of  depression  and 
slavery,  were  a  people,  we  have  the  utmost  reason  to  believe,  of  very 
gross  conceptions,  deeply  sunk  in  carnality  and  ignorance ;  a  nation 
peculiarly  disqualified  to  receive  any  lasting  impression  from  didactic 
discourses,  or  from  any  sublime  system  of  instruction.  Their  minds 
were  in  an  infantine  state ;  and  divine  wisdom  was  imparted  to  them, 
— not  in  that  form  which  was  best  in  itself,  but  in  that  in  which  they 
were  best  able  to  bear  it :  and  being  very  much  the  creatures  of  sense, 
religious  principles  were  communicated  through  the  medium  of  sensible 
images.  Thus  they  were  reminded  of  the  eternal  difference  between 
right  and  wrong,  between  actions  innocent  and  criminal,  by  the  dis- 
tinction of  animals  and  meats  into  clean  and  unclean.  Their  attention 
was  called  to  a  reflection  on  their  guilt,  on  their  just  desert  of  destruc- 
tion, and  of  the  necessity  of  a  real  expiation  of  sin  hereafter  to  be 

*  Preached  at  Leicester,  December,  1810. 


94  ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY. 

made  in  the  person  of  the  Saviour,  by  the  institution  of  sacrifices,  with- 
out the  shedding  of  whose  blood  there  was  no  remission.  To  convince 
them  of  the  inherent  defilement  attached  to  sin,  and  of  the  necessity 
of  being  purified  from  it  by  a  method  of  God's  devising,  it  was  enjoined 
that  several  incidents,  such  as  touching  a  dead  body,  the  disease  of 
leprosy,  and  some  others,  should  be  considered  as  polluting  the  person 
whom  they  befell ;  in  consequence  of  which  they  were  pronounced 
unclean,  and  separated  from  the  camp  and  the  tabernacle.  In  allusion 
to  the  ceremonial  uncleanness  contracted  by  touching  a  dead  body,  St. 
Paul,  that  infallible  interpreter  of  the  import  of  the  Mosaic  law,  styles 
evil  dispositions  "  dead  works." — "  For  if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of 
goats,  and  the  ashes  of  an  heifer  sprinkling  the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to 
the  purifying  of  the  flesh :  how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christy 
who  through  the  eternal  Spirit  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God, 
purge  your  conscience  from  dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God  ?"* 

To  every  instance  of  ceremonial  defilement  there  are  two  circum- 
stances attached. 

1.  The  forfeiture  of  certain  privileges,  especially  that  of  approaching 
God  in  his  sanctuary. 

2.  A  representation  of  the  defiling  nature  of  sin. 

But  of  all  the  various  sorts  of  ceremonial  uncleanness,  there  is  none 
which  appears  to  have  had  so  much  a  typical  import  as  the  case  of 
leprosy,  which,  accordingly,  occupies  more  room  in  the  enactments 
of  the  Levitical  law  than  all  the  others  put  together ;  and  is  treated 
of  with  a  niceness  of  distinction,  and  a  particularity  of  detail,  peculiar 
to  hself.  Not  less  than  two  very  long  chapters  of  this  bookf  are 
devoted  to  the  ascertaining  of  the  signs  of  this  disease,  and  prescribing 
the  methods  of  legal  purification ;  so  that  no  one  who  believes  there 
is  any  thing  whatever  of  a  typical  nature  in  the  laws  of  Moses  can 
doubt  of  the  regulations  respecting  leprosy  being  emphatically  so.  It 
is  my  full  conviction  of  this  which  has  induced  me  to  make  it  the 
ground  of  this  discourse.  If  we  set  ourselves  to  inquire  for  what 
reason  the  leprosy  was  selected  in  the  Mosaic  ritual  as  the  most 
eminent  representation  of  moral  defilement,  we  shall  perceive  there 
was  something  very  singular  in  this  afi'air.  Besides  its  being  fitted 
for  this  purpose  as  it  was  a  very  dreadful  and  loathsome  disease,  there 
is  the  utmost  reason  to  believe  it  was  supernatural.  Those  who  have 
travelled  into  eastern  countries  make  mention  indeed  of  a  distemper 
under  the  name  of  leprosy ;  but  there  is  much  room  to  doubt  of  its 
being  the  same  which  is  treated  of  in  the  books  of  Moses.  If  you  read 
the  rules  prescribed  there  for  ascertaining  its  existence,  you  will  find 
certain  circumstances  to  which  there  is  nothing  parallel  in  any  disease 
DOW  existing  in  the  world  :  for  it  attached  itself,  not  only  to  the  bodies 
of  men,  but  to  garments  and  to  houses ;  it  affected  the  very  stones 
of  buildings,  fretting  and  consuming  them.|  A  considerable  part  of  the 
laws  on  this  subject  respect  its  subsistence  in  houses,  which  in  certain 

*  Hcb.  Ix.  13,  14.  t  Lev.  xiii.  xiv. 

I  Read  carefully  Lev.  xiv.  34-45.  Michaelis  and  others  have  endeavoured  to  prove  that  the 
leprosy  of  the  Old  Testamenl  is,  in  no  case,  supernatural ;  but  their  reusoninga  are,  in  my  judgment, 
fcr  from  satisfactory.— Ed. 


ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.  95 

cases  were  ordered  to  be  completely  demolished,  and  the  materials 
cast  into  an  unclean  place  without  the  city.  It  seems  to  have  been 
inflicted  by  the  immediate  hand  of  God  :  "  When  ye  be  come  into  the 
land  of  Canaan,  which  I  give  to  you  for  a  possession,"  the  Lord  is 
introduced  as  saying,  "  and  I  put  the  plague  of  leprosy  in  a  house 
of  the  land  of  your  possession ;  and  he  that  owneth  the  house  shall 
come  and  tell  the  priest,  saying.  It  seemeth  to  me  there  is  as  it  were 
a  plague  in  the  house."*  In  various  periods  of  the  Old  Testament 
history,  we  find  it  inflicted  as  an  immediate  judgment  of  God,  as  in 
the  case  of  Moses,  Miriam,  Gehazi,  and  Uzziah.  After  it  was  cured, 
it  was  suftered  sometimes  to  spread  again.  By  this  awful  visitation 
the  inhabitants  of  the  house  were  forcibly  reminded  and  admonished 
of  their  sins  :  and  is  it  possible  to  conceive  of  a  ceremony  more  adapted 
to  strike  a  stupid  and  insensible  people  with  awe  ? 

The  typical  import  of  this  kind  of  ceremonial  defilement  leads  us  to 
consider  sin  in  the  following  lights  : — 

I.  As  an  alarming,  dreadful  disease,  for  such  the  leprosy  unquestion- 
ably was.  There  are  spiritual  diseases  as  well  as  bodily,  and  the 
former  much  more  to  be  dreaded.  These  diseases  may  all  be  resolved 
into  sin.  As  the  human  frame  consists,  not  merely  in  a  number  of  parts 
put  together  in  the  same  place,  but  of  parts  vitally  united,  all  with  their 
separate  functions  and  due  subserviency  to  each  other,  which  gives  us 
the  idea  of  a  system  ;  so  the  mind  consists  of  faculties  and  powers 
designed  to  act  under  due  subordination  to  each  other.  Sin  disturbs 
this  harmony,  confounds  this  order,  and  consequently  is  truly  and 
properly  in  the  mind  what  disease  is  in  the  body.  In  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures it  is  compared  to  the  most  afflicting  disorders  ; — to  blindness, 
deafness,  lethargy ;  and  the  removal  of  it  is  expressed  by  healing. 
"Lest  at  any  time  they  should  see  with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their 
ears,  and  should  understand  with  their  heart,  and  should  be  converted, 
and  I  should  heal  them."t  Sin  is  a  fretting  leprosy  ;  it  spreads  itself 
throughout  all  the  principles  and  powers ;  and  [wherever  it  spreads 
imparts  its  own  malignity.] 

II.  It  defiles  as  well  as  disorders. — Like  the  leprosy,  it  is  a  most 
loathsome  disease ;  it  is  jilthincss  of  flesh  and  of  spirit.  "  Cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults. ";{:  "  Wash  me  thoroughly  from  mine 
iniquity,  and  cleanse  me  from  my  sin."§ 

III.  It  cuts  off  those  in  whom  it  prevails  from  communion  with 
God,  both  penally  and  naturally  ;  that  is,  by  the  force  of  judicial 
sentence,  and  by  its  natural  influence. 

IV.  To  those  who  have  just  apprehensions  of  it,  it  will  be  productive 
of  that  sorrowful  sense  of  guilt  and  unworthiness  so  forcibly  expressed 
in  the  words  of  the  text. 

*  Lev.  xiv.  34,  35.  f  Isa.  vi.  10.    John  xii.  40.       b  X  Psalm  xix.  12.         $  Psalm  li.  2. 


96  ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY. 

XVIII. 

ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.* 

Let',  xiii.  45. — Arid  the  leper  in  whom,  the  plague  is,  his  clothes  shall 
be  rent,  and  his  head  bare,  and  he  shall  put  a  covering  upon  his  upper 
lip,  and  shall  cry.  Unclean,  unclean. 

In  this  discourse  we  propose  to  make  an  improvement  of  the  two 
former,  which  treated  of  the  spiritual  import  of  the  Mosaical  law  con- 
cerning lepers.  Having  shown  that  the  ceremonial  defilement  incurred 
by  leprosy  was  designed  as  a  standing  representation  of  the  polluting 
nature  of  sin, — and  the  legal  method  of  purification,  a  type  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  power  and  pollution  of  sin  are  removed  under 
the  gospel, — I  shall  proceed  to  attempt  applying  the  whole  doctrine  to 
the  character  and  circumstances  of  my  hearers. 

I.  Let  the  doctrine  be  improved  into  an  occasion  of  inquiring  whether 
we  are  healed,  or  are  yet  under  the  leprosy  of  sin.  When  we  hear 
of  the  ravages  of  so  dreadful  a  disorder,  supposing  we  give  any  sort 
of  credit  to  the  report,  it  is  natural  to  inquire  into  our  own  situation, 
and  to  consider  how  far  we  are  in  danger  of  being  overtaken  with  it. 
During  the  prevalence  of  an  epidemic  disorder,  accompanied  especially 
Avith  symptoms  of  danger,  prudent  men  are  wont  to  manifest  great 
solicitude  to  avoid  the  places  and  occasions  of  infection.  In  the  case 
before  us  tliere  is  ground  for  much  serious  inquiry  peculiar  to  itself. 
The  leprosy  of  sin  is  not  like  some  other  disorders  which  affect  some 
individuals  alone,  while  others  escape  ;  it  is  a  vmiversal  malady, — no 
child  of  Adam  escapes  it ;  it  attaches  to  the  whole  human  race ;  and 
the  only  persons  who  are  not  now  involved  in  that  calamity  are  such 
as  are  cured,  saved,  redeemed  from  among  men  ; — terms  which  in  their 
most  obvious  import  imply  the  former  prevalence  of  disease.  The 
bitter  fruits  of  human  apostacy  extend  to  each  individual  of  the  human 
race,  as  may  be  sufliciently  inferred  from  the  very  appellation  of  Christ, 
the  Saviour  of  the  world, — "  he  shall  be  for  salvation  unto  the  ends 
of  the  earth,"! — as  well  as  from  the  most  express  declarations  of 
Scripture  respecting  the  universal  prevalence  of  guilt  and  corruption, 
in  all  instances  where  it  has  not  been  counteracted  and  controlled  by 
divine  grace  :  "  Among  whom  also  we  all  had  our  conversation  in 
times  past  in  the  lusts  of  our  flesh,  fulfilling  the  desires  of  the  flesh 
and  of  the  mind ;  and  were  by  nature  the  children  of  wrath,  even  as 
others."! 

Since  this  is  the  case,  if  you  are  not  now  in  a  state  of  sin,  j'et,  as 
you  were  so  formerly,  you  have  undergone  a  great  change,  and  must 
consequently  have  some  recollection  of  the  circumstances  attending  it ; 

*  Preached  at  Leicester,  December,  1810.  t  Acts  xiii.  47.  }  Eph.  ii.  3 


ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.  97 

and  though  you  may  not  perhaps  be  able  to  specify  the  precise  moment 
of  your  conversion,  some  traces  must  remain  upon  your  memory  of  the 
circumstances  connected  with  an  event  so  replete  with  important  con- 
sequences. In  the  course  of  our  discussion  on  this  subject  we  have 
observed,  that  the  cure  of  sin  must  be  preceded  by  a  sense  of  the 
malady,  by  a  humiliating  conviction  of  defilement,  urging  us  to  cry 
with  the  leper,  "  Unclean,  unclean."  Did  any  ever  witness  in  you 
this  appearance  of  concern  for  sin,  this  apprehension  of  your  misery 
as  a  guilty  creature  before  God  ?  Were  you  ever  heard,  we  will  not 
say  to  cry  out  in  a  public  assembly,  as  did  the  three  thousand  that 
were  converted  by  Peter,  but  in  the  most  private  intercourse  with  a 
Christian  friend,  and  inquire  what  you  must  do  to  be  saved  1  Are  you 
conscious  to  yourselves  of  having  ever  felt  serious  and  lasting  solichude 
on  that  head  ?  Did  it  ever  rest  with  a  weight  upon  your  mind  at  all 
proportioned  to  what  you  have  felt  on  other  occasions  of  distress  ? 
Was  it  ever  allowed  to  put  a  check  to  your  worldly  amusements,  to 
your  gay  diversions,  or  to  the  pursuit  of  any  scheme  whatever,  from 
which  you  could  promise  yourselves  profit  or  pleasure  ? 

We  will  take  occasion,  in  treating  on  the  subject  before  us,  to  observe, 
that  the  only  method  of  deliverance  from  the  malady  of  sin  is  a  devout 
and  humble  application  to  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  for  he,  and  he  only,  "  shall 
save  his  people  from  their  sins  ;"*  and  now,  not  less  than  in  the  days 
of  his  flesh,  it  is  his  prerogative  to  say,  "  I  will,  be  thou  clean."! 
Supposing  you  thus  to  have  applied,  and  to  have  succeeded  in  your 
suit,  you  must  have  some  remembrance  of  those  solemn  transactions 
between  Christ  and  your  soul.  You  can  recall  the  season  when  you 
committed  yourselves  into  the  hands  of  the  Redeemer;  when,  like  the 
leper  in  the  gospel,  you  fell  at  his  feet,  crying,  "  If  thou  wilt,  thou 
canst  make  me  clean."  Your  struggles  after  the  Saviour,  your 
attempts  to  believe,  accompanied  witla  prayer  that  he  would  help  your 
unbelief,  and  the  rest  you  have  found  in  him  after  being  tossed  by  the 
storm,  cannot  all  have  passed  like  the  fleeting  images  of  a  dream, 
without  leaving  some  traces  in  your  mind  not  easily  effaced.  If  you 
are  conscious  that  nothing  of  this  nature  has  taken  place,  if  you 
recollect  no  such  transactions,  you  may  be  assured  they  never  took 
place. 

Waiving,  however,  these  points  of  inquiry,  and  admitting  it  to  be 
possible  that  all  this  may  have  disappeared  from  your  mind,  still,  since 
sin  is  a  universal  malady  from  which  none  are  naturally  exempted,  if 
you  are  now  healed,  you  must  be  conscious  of  your  being  very  differ- 
ent from  what  you  formerly  were.  Admitting  you  can  give  no  account 
of  the  circumstances  or  time  of  your  cure,  yet  you  can  at  least  say 
with  him  in  the  gospel,  "  One  thing  I  know,  that  whereas  I  was  blind, 
now  I  see."  Your  taste,  inclination,  and  pursuits  must  have  undergone 
a  great  alteration ;  and  whereas  you  were  formerly  alienated  from 
God,  and  took  no  dehght  in  him,  he  is  now  your  avowed  and  deliberate 
end,  your  chosen  portion.  Whereas  you  were  formerly  utterly  disin- 
clined to  prayer,  it  is  now  your  constant  practice,  and  considered  as  a 

•  Matt.  i.  21.  t  Matt.  viii.  3. 

Vol.  III.— G 


98  ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY. 

high  privilege.  "  Led  captive"  formerly  "  by  Satan  at  his  will,"  borne 
away  by  the  tide  of  sensual  inclination  or  corrupt  example,  you  now 
feel  yourselves  endowed  with  spiritual  power,  so  as  to  overcome 
temptation  ;  and  having  the  seed  of  grace  remaining,  you  keep  your- 
selves that  so  "  the  wicked  one  touchelh  you  not."  The  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  appeared  to  you  formerly  "  like  a  root  out  of  a  dry 
ground,  without  any  beauty  or  comeliness  in  him  for  which  you  should 
desire  liim,"  is  now  in  your  eyes  "  the  branch  of  the  Lord,  beautiful 
and  glorious ;  the  fruit  of  the  earth,  comely  and  pleasant."  The 
knowledge  of  him,  instead  of  being  tasteless  and  insipid,  you  now  find 
to  be  of  so  high  and  superlative  excellence,  that  you  account  all  things 
but  loss  in  the  comparison  ;  nay,  you  esteem  them  "  but  dung,  that  you 
may  win  Christ."  You  feel,  it  may  be,  some  remains  of  your  ancient 
distemper  ;  but  you  feel,  at  the  same  time,  that  its  power  is  broken, 
that  the  prescriptions  of  your  Physician  have  wrought  kindly,  and  that 
you  are  not  far  off  from  a  complete  cure. 

But  if  you  are  conscious  of  being  strangers  to  all  this,  you  may  rest 
assured  your  disorder  remains  in  its  full  force.  Nor  let  any  flatter 
themselves  that  things  are  well  with  them  because  their  external 
conduct  is  decent  and  regular,  and  they  are  exempt  from  the  grosser 
acts  of  immorality,  while  they  remain  alienated  from  God,  forgetful 
of  his  presence,  unawed  by  his  authority,  insensible  to  his  goodness, 
strangers  to  his  converse.  In  this  alienation  lies  the  very  core  and 
essence  of  sin ;  this  is  the  "  evil  heart  of  unbelief  departing  from  the 
living  God ;"  this  is  the  radical  distemper  of  Avhich  the  diversified 
forms  of  iniq\iity  in  men's  lives  are  but  the  symptoms  and  effects. 
This  aversion  to  God,  this  inaptitude  to  be  influenced  by  considerations 
and  motives  derived  from  his  blessed  nature  and  holy  will,  is  the  semi- 
nal principle  of  all  wickedness  ;  it  is  the  [universal,]  the  pervading 
malady  which  attaches  to  apostate  spirits,  as  well  as  to  apostate  men, 
and  the  only  one  of  which  disembodied  spirits  are  capable;  and  which 
[leagues]  the  disobedient  and  rebellious  in  all  parts  of  the  universe  ia 
one  grand  confederacy  against  God  and  goodness.  Till  this  is  sub- 
dued, nothing  is  in  reality  done  towards  tiie  recovery  of  lost  souls. 
"  Man  looketh  on  the  outward  appearance,  but  God  looketh  on  the 
heart;"*  and  in  consequence  of  this  that  whicli  is  highly  esteemed  among 
men  is,  not  unfrequently,  an  abomination  in  his  sight.  "  There  is," 
the  Scriptures  tell  us,  "  a  generation  who  are  pure  in  their  own  eyes, 
but  are  not  washed  from  their  filthiness  ;"t  and  they  who  value  them- 
selves on  the  correct  exterior  of  their  conduct,  while  their  heart  is  not 
turned  to  God,  are  precisely  that  generation. 

IL  The  second  improvement  to  which  the  subject  naturally  leads 
is,  a  reflection  on  the  misery  of  those  who  are  yet  under  the  power 
and  defilement  of  sin.  Happy  should  we  esteem  ourselves,  could  we 
impress  upon  the  consciences  of  such  an  adequate  idea  of  their  misery. 
"  Then  said"  the  prophet  "  Haggai,  If  one  that  is  unclean  by  a  dead 
body  touch  any  of  these,  shall  it  be  unclean?  And  the  priests 
answered   and  said,   it  shall  be  unclean.     Then   answered  Haggai, 

♦  1  Sam.  xvi.  7  t  Prov.  xxx.  18. 


ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY.  99 

and  said,  So  is  this  people,  and  so  is  this  nation  before  me,  saith  the 
Lord  ;  and  so  is  every  work  of  their  hands  ;  and  that  which  they  offer 
tliere  is  unclean."* 

To  be  under  the  power  and  pollution  of  sin  is  to  be  odious  in  the 
sight  of  God  ;  and  what  inexpressible  degradation  is  comprehended  in 
this  idea !  For  the  eye  of  God's  holiness  to  be  averted  from  us,  to 
have  no  share  in  his  complacency,  to  be  in  a  situation  in  which  his 
essential  attributes  are  engaged  for  our  destruction,  is  a  conception 
which,  if  you  come  to  realize  it,  is  replete  with  horror.  To  have  "  the 
wrath  of  God  abiding  on  you"  is  a  calamity  which,  one  would  suppose, 
must  drink  up  your  spirit,  and  completely  destroy  whatever  satisfaction 
you  might  naturally  derive  from  other  objects.  Till  this  plague  is 
removed,  cheerfulness  is  folly,  and  laughter  is  madness.  However 
prosperous  your  outward  condition,  however  successful  your  worldly 
pursuits,  however  ample  your  fortune,  or  elevated  your  rank,  they 
are  no  just  occasion  of  joy  to  you,  any  more  than  the  garland  which 
decorates  the  victim  prepared  for  slaughter.  "  Rejoice  not,  O  Israel, 
for  joy,  as  other  people  :  for  thou  hast  gone  a  whoring  from  thy  God."t 
There  are  many  circumstances  calculated  to  afford  a  degree  of  joy  ; 
the  blessings  so  plenteously  showered  down  on  the  path  of  life  are 
adapted  in  themselves  to  -exhilarate  the  heart,  and  to  diffuse  a  ray  of 
cheerfulness  over  the  soul ;  but  to  him  that  is  under  the  wrath  of  the 
Almighty,  if  ihey  afford  high  gratification,  it  must  be  in  consequence 
of  his  forgetfulness  of  his  true  situation.  We  should  pity  the  insen- 
sibility of  the  man  who  could  delight  himself  with  the  dainties  of  a 
feast,  while  a  sword  was  suspended  over  his  head  by  a  single  hair;| 
the  danger  of  whose  situation  is,  however,  not  to  be  compared  with 
being  every  moment  exposed  to  "  the  wratli  of  God."  While  you 
continue  in  your  sins,  you  have  not  the  shadow  of  security  against 
overwhelming  and  hopeless  destruction  :  at  any  moment,  in  the  midst 
of  your  amusements,  your  business,  your  repose,  whether  at  home  or 
abroad,  in  company  or  in  solitude,  you  are  liable  to  the  arrest  of  jus- 
tice ;  to  be  cast  out  into  that  eternal  prison  from  whence  you  can  never 
escape  "  till  you  have  paid  the  uttermost  farthing."  The  Being  that 
fills  with  his  presence  the  immensity  of  space — the  Being  "  in  whom 
you  live,  and  move,  and  have  your  being,"  who  can  crush  you  in  a 
moment,  and  who  has  engaged  to  recompense  his  enemies,  and  "  reward 
them  that  hate  him,"  is  incensed  at  you,  and  laughs  at  your  insensibility, 
because  he  knows  that  your  hour  is  coming. 

III.  The  subject  before  us  suggests  the  strongest  motives  for  an 
immediate  application  to  the  methods  of  cure.  Were  sin  a  tolerable 
distemper,  it  might  be  endured ;  were  it  entirely  or  in  every  sense 
incurable,  it  must  be  submitted  to.  But  as  things  are  actually  situated, 
there  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  pine  away  in  your  iniquities  ;  for 
though  you  cannot  recover  yourselves  by  any  native  unaided  power  of 

*  Haggai  ii.  13,  14,  t  Hos.  ix.  1. 

+  See  Horace,  lib.  lii,  carm.  I. 

"  Districtus  ensis  cui  super  impia 
Cervice  pendet,  noii  Siculae  dapes 
Duleem  elaborabunt  saporem." — Ed. 

G2 


100  ON  SPIRITUAL  LEPROSY. 

yours,  though  in  this  light  your  [hopelessness]  be  deep,  and  your 
wound  incurable,  yet  there  is  a  method  of  recovery  revealed  in  the 
gospel,  which  millions  have  tried  with  success.  "  There  is  balm  in 
Gilead,  there  is  a  Physician  there."*  By  the  discoveries  it  makes  of 
the  placability  of  the  Divine  Being,  and  the  actual  constitution  of  a 
Redeemer,  the  gospel  is  essentially  a  restorative  dispensation.  "  It  is 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  believeth."t 

We  have  observed,  in  the  course  of  our  discussion  of  the  subject, 
that  the  evils  attached  to  sin  are  twofold :  guilt,  which  is  a  legal 
obstruction  to  an  approach  to  God,  and  renders  the  sinner  liable  to 
eternal  death ;  and  pollution,  which  disqualifies  him  for  happiness. 

To  the  former  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  "  sprinkled  upon  the 
conscience,"  is  a  sovereign  antidote  :  "  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanselh 
from  all  sin. "J  The  great  design  of  his  coming  into  this  world  was 
to  render  that  reparation  to  divine  justice  for  the  injury  it  had  sustained 
by  the  transgressions  of  men,  which  it  liad  been  otherwise  impossible 
to  make ;  and  thus,  in  consistency  with  the  divine  law,  to  admit 
repenting  sinners  to  mercy.  "  Having  boldness  to  enter  into  the 
holiest  by  the  blood  of  .Jesus,  by  a  new  and  living  way,  which  he  hath 
consecrated  for  us,  through  the  veil,  that  is  to  say,  his  flesh ;  and  hav- 
ing an  High-priest  over  the  house  of  God  ;  let  us  draw  near."(^ 

With  respect  to  the  power  and  pollution  of  sin,  its  efficacy  in 
retaining  the  soul  in  bondage ;  this  also  admits  of  relief  in  the  gospel. 
There  is  a  Spirit,  we  have  often  occasion  to  remind  you,  which  can 
liberate  the  soul,  and  diffuse  freedom,  light,  and  purity  through  all 
its  powers.  "  The  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath  made  us  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death."||  "  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is, 
there  is  liberty."]^  If  you  are  willing  to  be  made  clean,  if  you  sin- 
cerely implore  the  savour  of  Divine  grace,  it  will  not  long  be  withheld 
from  you.  "  He  will  give  his  Holy  Spirit  unto  them  that  ask  him."** 
"  If  you  will  turn  at  his  reproof,  he  will  pour  out  his  Spirit  unto  you, 
and  make  known  his  words  unto  you. "ft  "  He  is  willing  to  heal  your 
backslidings,  to  receive  you  graciously,  and  love  you  freely. "JJ 

If  you  are  so  much  in  love  with  your  distemper,  indeed,  as  to  deter- 
mine, at  all  events,  not  to  part  with  it,  your  case  is  hopeless ;  and 
nothing  remains  but  for  you  to  die  in  your  sins,  under  the  additional 
guilt  you  incur  by  refusing  the  remedy  which  Infinite  Wisdom  has 
prepared.  At  present,  God  is  expostulating  with  you,  in  the  language 
of  an  ancient  prophet,  "  O  Jerusalem,  wash  thine  heart  from  wicked- 
ness, that  tliou  mayst  be  saved.  How  long  shall  thy  vain  thoughts 
lodge  within  thee  ?"'^'5i  "  Wo  unto  thee,  O  Jerusalem  !  wilt  thou  not 
he  made  clean  ?  when  shall  it  once  be  ?"|1|1 

You  have  met  with  many  occurrences  calculated  to  bring  your  sin 
to  your  remembrance ;  in  various  respects  God  has  walked  contrary 
to  you,  and  has  probably  often  visited  you  with  severe  chastisements. 
Your  bodies  have  been  reduced  by  sickness,  your  families  visited  with 

*  Jer.  vill.  2a.  t  Rom.  1.  J6.  t  1  John  1.  7.  6  Heb.  x.  19-22. 

II  Rom.  vill.  2.  IT  2  Cor.  Hi.  17.  ••  Lukoxt.  13.  ft  Prov.  1.  23. 

Xt  Ho«.  xiv.  4.  5^  Jer.  Iv.  14.  ||||  Jer.  xili.  27. 


ON  COUNTING  THE  COST.  101 

death  ;  and  under  some  of  these  strokes  you  were  for  a  while  stunned, 
and  formed  some  feeble  resolution  of  forsaking  your  sins,  and  devoting 
yourselves  to  a  religious  life.  But  what  are  the  fruits  ?  No  sooner 
was  the  first  smart  of  your  affliction  [abated,]  than  you  returned  to 
your  course,  and  became  as  inattentive  to  the  concerns  of"  your  soul  as 
ever.  God  only  knows  whether  he  will  grant  you  any  more  warn- 
ings ;  whether  he  will  wait  upon  you  any  longer ;  whether  he  will 
ever  again  visit  you  in  mercy  ;  or  whether  he  will  pronounce  on  you 
that  awful  sentence  recorded  in  Ezekiel, — "  Because  I  have  purged 
thee,  and  thou  wast  not  purged,  thou  shalt  not  be  purged  from  thy 
filthiness  any  more,  till  I  have  caused  my  fury  to  rest  upon  thee.  I 
the  Lord  have  spoken  it ;  it  shall  come  to  pass,  and  I  vvill  do  it ;  I 
will  not  go  back,  neither  will  I  spare,  neither  will  I  repent :  accord- 
ing to  thy  ways  and  according  to  thy  doings  shall  they  judge  thee, 
saith  the  Lord  God." 


XIX. 

ON  COUNTING  THE  COST. 


LtJKE  xiv.  28. — For  which  of  you,  intending  to  build  a  tower,  sittcth 
not  down  first,  and  counteth  the  cost,  whether  he  have  sufficient  to 
finish  it  1 

Among  the  many  excellences  which  distinguish  the  character  of 
our  Lord,  as  the  author  and  founder  of  a  new  religion,  we  perceive, 
throughout  the  whole  of  his  conduct,  a  most  transparent  simplicity  and 
candour.  He  disdained,  on  any  occasion,  to  take  advantage  of  the  igno- 
rance or  inexperience  of  the  persons  with  whom  he  conversed ;  never 
stooping  to  the  low  arts  of  populanty,  nor  attempting  to  swell  the 
number  of  his  followers  by  a  concealment  of  the  truth.  He  availed 
himself  of  no  sudden  surprise,  no  momentary  enthusiasm  arising  from 
the  miracles  which  he  wrought,  or  the  benefits  which  he  conferred.  The 
attachment  which  he  sought,  and  which  he  valued,  was  the  result  of 
mature  conviction,  founded  on  the  evidence  of  his  claims,  and  combined 
with  a  distinct  foresight  of  the  consequences,  near  and  remote,  which 
would  follow  from  becoming  his  disciples.  Conscious  of  the  solidity 
of  the  foundation  on  which  his  title  to  universal  and  devoted  obedience 
rested,  he  challenged  the  strictest  scrutiny.  Knowing  that  his  promises 
would  more  than  compensate  all  the  sacrifices  he  might  require,  and 
all  the  sufferings  to  which  his  disciples  might  be  exposed,  he  was  not 
solicitous  to  throw  a  veil  over  either ;  but  rather  chose  to  set  them  in 
the  strongest  light,  that  none  might  be  induced  to  enlist  under  his  ban- 
ners but  such  as  were  "  called,  and  chosen,  and  faithful."  He  felt  no 
desire  to  be  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  ignorant  and  superficial  admirers, 

*  Ezek.  xxiv.  13, 14. 


102  ON  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ready  to  make  him  a  king  to-day,  and  to  cry,  "  Crucify  him,  crucify  him," 
to-morrow  ;  but  by  a  band  "  whose  hearts  God  had  touched,"  prepared, 
through  good  and  evil  report,  to  follow  him  to  prison  and  to  death. 
Such,  with  the  exception  of  one,  were  his  twelve  apostles ;  such  the 
hundred  and  twenty  disciples  who  were  assembled  at  Jerusalem  after 
his  ascension  ;  and  such  the  character  of  those  whom  he  will  acknow- 
ledge as  his  at  a  future  day. 

Let  me  request  your  serious  attention  while,  in  dependence  on 
Divine  assistance,  we  attempt  the  improvement  of  this  passage,  by 
showing, 

I.  What  is  the  cost  attending  the  Christian  profession. 

II.  Why  it  is  necessary  to  count  the  cost :  and, 

in.  The  reasons  which  ought  to  determine  our  adherence  to  Christ, 
whatever  that  cost  may  be. 

I.  We  are  to  consider  the  cost  of  the  Christian  profession.  The 
cost  attending  [this  profession]  relates,  either  to  what  it  requires  us  to 
renounce,  or  what  we  are  to  expect,  or  the  term  and  duration  of  the 
engagement. 

1.  In  order  to  be  the  disciples  of  Christ,  there  is  much  that  we 
must  instantly  renounce.  It  is  a  profession  of  holiness :  it  therefore 
demands  the  immediate  renunciation  of  criminal  and  forbidden  plea- 
sures. The  moment  we  become  Christ's  disciples,  we  commence  a 
warfare  with  the  flesh,  engaging  for  its  crucifixion,  with  all  its  sinful 
lusts  and  appetites.  "  They  that  are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh 
with  its  affections  and  lusts."*  To  the  severities  of  monastic  disci- 
pline, in  which  the  body  is  torn  by  scourges,  and  emaciated  by  abstain- 
ing from  the  nourislunent  required  to  sustain  it  in  health  and  vigour, 
the  religion  of  Christ  is  a  stranger.  "  For  every  creature  of  God  is 
good,  if  it  be  received  with  thanksgiving."!  But  a  soft,  voluptuous, 
•and  sensual  life  is  repugnant,  not  only  to  the  example  of  Christ,  but 
to  the  whole  genius  and  spirit  of  his  institutes.  By  his  gospel,  and  by 
his  Son,  God  has  "  called  us,  not  to  uncleanness,  but  to  holiness  4  so 
that  he  that  despiseth  the  precepts  of  purity  despiseth  not  man,  but 
God  :  "  This  is  the  will  of  God,  even  our  sanctification,  that  every 
man  should  know  how  to  possess  his  vessel  in  sanctification  and 
honour ;  not  in  the  lust  of  concupiscence,  as  the  gentiles  which  know 
not  God."<^  However  painful  the  sacrifice  of  forbidden  gratifications 
may  be,  however  deep  and  inveterate  the  habit  of  indulgence, — though 
it  may  seem  as  necessary  to  us,  and  as  much  a  part  of  ourselves,  as 
the  right  hand,  or  the  right  eye, — relinquished  it  must  be,  or  we  cannot 
be  Christ's  disciples.  A  life  of  sinful  pleasure  is  not  the  life  of  a 
man,  much  less  is  it  the  life  of  a  Christian :  "  He  that  liveth  in  pleasure" 
(it  is  the  language  of  inspiration)  "  is  dead  while  he  liveth."||  Let  me 
urge  every  one  present  to  count  the  cost  in  this  particular,  and  if  he  is 
not  firmly  determined,  in  the  strengtii  of  divine  grace,  "  to  abstain  from 
those  fleshly  lusts  which  war  against  the  soul,"  let  him  not  pollute  the 
name  of  the  holy  and  immaculate  Lamb  of  God  by  associating  it  with 

♦  Gal.  V.  M.  t  1  Tim.  iv.  4.  X\  These,  iv.  7. 

^  1  Theas.  Iv.  3-3.  ||  1  Tim.  v.  6. 


ON  COUNTING  THE  COST.  103 

his  own.  Such  an  association  is  his  abhorrence,  which  he  will  testify 
in  a  future  day ;  and  he  will  vindicate  his  insulted  purity  by  a  final 
renunciation  and  disclaimer,  saying,  "  Depart  from  me,  ye  that  work 
iniquity :  I  never  knew  you."* 

2.  The  Christian  profession  is  spiritual,  and  therefore  requires  the 
renunciation  of  the  world.  The  words  of  our  Lord  in  this  particular 
are  decisive :  "  So,  likewise,  whosoever  he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh 
not  all  that  he  hath,  cannot  be  my  disciple."!  In  the  interpretation 
of  these  words,  we  must  undoubtedly  distinguish  between  the  spirit 
and  the  letter.  In  the  ordinary  circumstances  of  the  Christian  pro- 
fession, a  literal  compliance  with  this  requirement  would  lead  to  per- 
nicious consequences  ;  to  a  relinquishment  of  the  duties  proper  to  our 
station,  and  a  disorganization  of  society  :  but  still  they  have  an  important 
meaning.  They  present  the  relation  of  a  disciple  to  the  present  world 
in  a  very  solemn  and  instructive  light.  They  intimate,  at  the  lowest 
estimate,  that  the  relation  he  bears  to  the  present  state  and  world,  is 
that  of  "  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  ;"  that  the  relation  in  which  it  stands 
to  him  is  that  of  an  entire  and  absolute  subordination  to  the  glory  of 
Christ  and  the  interests  of  eternity.  At  the  first  opening  of  the  gospel 
dispensation,  the  sacrifice  of  all  secular  advantages,  the  disruption  of 
the  tender  ties  which  connect  parents  and  children,  husbands  and  wives, 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  dearest  friends,  was  not  unfrequently  the 
inevitable  consequence  of  an  adherence  to  Christ.  The  necessity  of 
literally  forsaking  all  was  a  usual  appendage  of  the  Christian  profes- 
sion. There  was  therefore  a  great  propriety  in  placing  the  engage- 
ments of  a  disciple  in  this  strong  and  forcible  light,  which,  however, 
prescribe  nothing  more  than  what  is  irrevocably  binding  on  us  under 
similar  circumstances.  To  regard  every  worldly  interest,  at  all  times, 
with  an  attachment  subordinate  to  the  love  of  Christ,  to  treasure  up 
our  chief  happiness  in  him,  and  to  be  willing  to  "  forsake  all"  when- 
ever the  following  him  renders  it  necessary,  are  absolutely  essential 
to  the  becoming  his  disciples. 

On  this  ground,  my  Christian  brethren,  let  each  of  us  try  our  reli- 
gious pretensions.  If  you  wish  to  carry  into  the  Christian  profession 
the  weight  of  worldly  encumbrance,  a  heart  corroded  by  its  passions, 
and  agitated  with  its  cares ;  if  you  are  desirous  of  uniting  the  service 
of  God  and  of  Mammon,  and  think  of  presenting  to  Christ  a  few  small 
relics  of  your  time,  occupied  in  the  cold  formalities  of  a  dead  and 
heartless  religion,  you  cannot  be  his  disciples.  The  world  must  be 
displaced  from  the  throne,  or  Christ  will  not,  cannot  enter ;  since  he 
will  never  condescend  to  occupy  a  subordinate  place.  Alas  !  what 
multitudes  are  there  (there  is  reason  to  fear)  who  are  fatally  deceived 
in  this  particular ;  and  who,  while  they  form  a  high  estimate  of  their 
character  as  Christians,  have  not  "  the  Spirit  of  Christ,"  and  are  there- 
fore "  none  of  his  !"| 

3.  In  order  to  be  a  disciple,  it  is  necessary,  in  the  concerns  of  con- 
science, to  renounce  every  authority  but  that  of  Christ.     The  connexion 

•  Matt.  vii.  83.  f  Luke  xiv.  33.  J  Rom.  vui.  9. 


104  ON  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

of  a  Christian  with  the  Saviour  is  not  merely  that. of  a  disciple  with 
his  teacher ;  it  is  the  relation  of  a  subject  to  his  prince.  "  One  is 
your  Master,  even  Christ."*  "  My  sheep  hear  my  voice,  and  they  fol- 
low me."t  In  tlie  whole  course  of  our  lives,  if  we  are  indeed  his 
disciples,  we  shall  evince  our  allegiance  by  a  cons<?ientious  observance 
of  his  laws,  by  an  implicit  submission  to  his  will,  together  with  a 
sincere  desire  of  ascertaining  more  and  more  of  his  mind  and  purpose. 
"  We  shall  call  no  man  Master  upon  earth,"  nor  dare  to  trifle  with  the 
least  of  his  injunctions ;  and  while  we  plead  the  merits  of  his  death 
and  the  perfection  of  his  righteousness  as  the  alone  ground  of  hope, 
we  shall  reverence  him  as  a  Sovereign,  who  is  entitled  to  that  spiritual, 
that  interior  obedience  of  the  heart  which  is  suited  to  the  character  of 
him  who  searches  it.  He  who  trusts  in  him  as  his  Saviour  must  obey 
him  as  his  Lord ;  nor  shall  any  be  washed  in  his  blood  who  will  not 
submit  to  his  sceptre. 

The  moment  Paul  was  brought  to  a  saving  acquaintance  with  Christ, 
he  wrought  in  him  a  most  profound  sense  of  his  majesty ;  a  most 
humble  and  reverential  submission  to  his  will.  His  proud,  intractable 
heart  melted  like  wax  before  the  sun,  till,  passive  and  subdued  under 
the  hand  of  Christ,  he  exclaims,  "  Lord,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me 
to  do  ?"  While  you  prefer  submission  to  any  other  yoke,  while  the 
dictates  of  any  other  authority  have  more  power  over  you  than  the 
precepts  of  Christ,  dream  not  of  being  his  disciples.  It  is  absolutely 
impossible. 

4.  The  cost  of  which  we  are  speaking  relates  to  what  we  are  to 
expect.  In  general,  to  commence  the  profession  of  a  Christian  is  to 
enter  upon  a  formidable  and  protracted  warfare ;  it  is  to  engage  in  an 
arduous  contest,  in  which  many  difficulties  are  to  be  surmounted,  many 
enemies  overcome.  The  path  that  was  trod  by  the  great  Leader  is 
that  which  must  be  pursued  by  all  his  followers.  If  he  found  his  way 
strewed  only  with  flowers,  if  his  career  was  cheered  with  acclamations 
and  greeted  with  smiles,  you  may  not  unreasonably  indulge  in  like 
expectations.  But  if  his  course,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  course  of  trial 
and  efibrt,  of  affliction  and  discouragement ;  if  a  life  of  poverty  and 
suflTering,  closed  by  a  death  of  ignominy  and  agony,  form  the  principal 
features  of  his  history,  regulate  your  expectations  accordingly.  "  It 
is  sufficient  for  the  servant  to  be  as  his  Master,  the  disciple  as  his 
Lord."  "  If  they  called  the  Master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  how 
much  more  them  of  his  household."  "  Marvel  not,"  saith  our  Lord, 
"  if  the  world  hate  you  ;  it  hated  me  before  it  haled  you.  If  ye  were 
of  the  world,  the  world  would  love  its  own :  but  because  ye  are  not 
of  the  world,  but  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  therefore  the 
world  hateth  you."|  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation  ;  but  be 
of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world,  that  in  me  ye  might  have 
peace."^ 

Though  violent  persecution  is  not  an  event,  under  the  present  cir- 
cumstances of  the  Christian  profession  in  this  country,  within  the  range 

♦  Matt,  xxiii.  8.  t  John  x.  27.  J  John  xv.  18,  19.  $  John  xvi.  33. 


ON  COUNTING  THE  COST.  105 

of  probability,  yet  serious  and  painful  opposition  may  be  expected. 
Vigorous  attempts  will  be  made  to  deprive  you  of  your  crown,  at  one 
time  by  an  assault  on  your  doctrinal,  at  another  by  efforts  to  corrupt 
your  practical,  principles.  A  strong  current  will  set  in  from  the  world 
to  obstruct  your  progress,  swelled  by  the  confluence  of  false  opinions, 
corrupt  customs,  ensnaring  examples,  and  all  the  elements  of  vice, 
error,  and  impiety,  which  are  leagued  in  a  perpetual  confederacy 
against  God  and  his  Christ.  Your  path  will  often  be  beset,  not  merely 
by  the  avowed  patrons  of  error,  but  by  such  as  "  hold  the  truth  in 
unrighteousness  ;"  who,  never  having  experienced  the  renovating  power 
of  divine  truth,  will  be  among  the  first  and  foremost  to  ridicule  and 
oppose  its  genuine  influence.  While  you  live  like  the  world,  you  may 
with  impunity  think  with  the  church ;  but  let  the  doctrines  you  profess 
descend  from  the  head  to  the  heart,  and  produce  there  the  contrition, 
the  humility,  the  purity,  the  separation  from  the  world  which  distinguish 
the  new  creature,  that  world  will  be  armed  against  you.  "  They  ihink 
it  strange  that  ye  run  not  with  them  to  the  same  excess  of  riot,  speak- 
ing evil  of  you."*  In  order  to  stand  your  ground,  it  will  be  requisite 
for  you  to  "  quit  yourselves  like  men,  and  be  strong."  Aware  that  he 
is  everywhere  and  at  all  times  surrounded  with  danger,  the  life  of  a 
Christian  is  a  life  of  habitual  watchfulness ;  in  solitude,  in  company ; 
at  home,  abroad  ;  in  repose  and  in  action ;  in  a  state  of  suffering,  or  a 
state  of  enjoyment ;  in  the  shade  of  privacy,  or  in  the  glare  of  publicity. 
Aware  of  his  incessant  liability  to  be  ensnared,  he  feels  it  incumbent 
on  him  to  watch.  The  melancholy  history  of  the  falls  of  Noah,  of 
David,  and  of  Peter  is  adapted  and  designed  to  teach  us  this  lesson. 

An  opportunity  may  present  itself  perhaps,  in  your  future  course,  of 
growing  suddenly  rich,  of  making  at  least  a  considerable  accession  to 
your  property ;  but  it  involves  the  sacrifice  of  principle,  the  adoption 
of  some  crooked  and  sinister  policy,  some  palpable  violation  of  the 
golden  rule ;  or,  to  put  it  in  the  most  favourable  light,  such  an  immer- 
sion of  your  mind  in  the  cares  and  business  of  the  world  as  will  leave 
no  leisure  for  retirement,  no  opportunity  for  "  exercising  yourself  unto 
godliness,"  no  space  for  calm  meditation  and  the  serious  perusal  of 
the  Scriptures.  Are  you  prepared  in  such  a  conjuncture  to  reject  the 
temptation ;  or  are  you  resolved  at  all  events  to  make  haste  to  get 
rich,  though  it  may  plunge  you  into  the  utmost  spiritual  danger? 
*'  Count  the  cost ;"  for  with  such  a  determination  you  cannot  be  Christ's 
disciple. 

By  the  supposition  with  which  we  set  out,  you  have  solemnly 
renounced  the  indulgence  of  sinful  pleasures.  But  recollect  that  siren 
will  return  to  the  charge,  she  will  renew  her  solicitations  a  thousand 
and  a  thousand  times ;  she  will  sparkle  in  your  eyes,  she  will  address 
her  honeyed  accents  to  your  ears,  she  will  assume  every  variety  of  form, 
and  will  deck  herself  with  a  nameless  variety  of  meretricious  embel- 
lishments and  charms,  if  haply  at  some  one  unguarded  moment  she  may 
entangle  you  in  those  "fleshly  lusts  which  war  against  the  soul." 

*  I  Pet.  iv.  4. 


106  WAR  WITH  THE  CANAANITES, 

**  Count  the  cost."  Are  you  prepared  to  shut  your  eyes,  to  close  your 
ears,  and  to  persist  in  a  firm,  everlasting  denial  ? 

You  will  meet  witli  injuries  and  unjust  provocations  :  "  count  the 
cost"  in  this  respect. 

5.  The  cost  of  the  Christian  profession  stands  related  to  the  term 
and  duration  of  the  engagement — "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,"  It  is 
coeval  with  life. 

II.  Wiiy,  we  say,  is  it  expedient  for  those  who  propose  to  become 
Christians  to  "  count  the  cost  ?" 

1.  It  will  obviate  a  sense  of  ridicule  and  of  shame.     (See  the  context.) 

2.  It  will  render  the  cost  less  formidable  when  it  occurs. 

3.  If  it  diminishes  the  number  of  those  who  make  a  public  and 
solemn  profession,  this  will  be  more  than  retrieved  by  the  superior 
character  of  those  who  make  it.  The  church  will  be  spared  much 
humiliation ;  Satan  and  the  world  deprived  of  many  occasions  of  triumph. 

III.  The  reasons  which  should  determine  our  adherence  to  Christ, 
notwithstanding  the  cost  which  attends  it. 

J .  His  absolute  right  to  command  or  claim  our  attachment. 

2.  The  pain  attending  the  sacrifices  necessary  to  the  Christian  pro- 
fession greatly  alleviated  from  a  variety  of  sources. 

3.  No  comparison  between  the  cost  and  the  advantages. 


XX. 

PARALLEL  BETWEEN  THE  WAR  WITH  THE  CANAANITISH 
NATIONS,  AND  THAT  OF  BELIEVERS  WITH  THEIR  SPIR- 
ITUAL ENEMIES.* 

Joshua  v.  13—15. — And  it  came  to  pass,  vjJien  Joshua  was  hy  Jericho, 
that  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  looked,  and,  behold,  there  stood  a  man 
over-against  him,  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand :  and  Joshua  wejit 
unto  him,  and  said  unto  him.  Art  thou  for  us,  or  for  our  adversaries? 
And  he  said.  Nay :  but  as  captain  of  the  host  of  the  Lord  am  I  itow 
come.  And  Joshua  fell  on  his  face  to  the  earth,  and  did  worship,  and 
said  unto  him.  What  saith  my  lord  unto  his  servant  ?  And  the 
captain  of  the  Lord's  host  said  unto  Joshua,  Loose  thy  shoe  from  off 
thy  foot ;  for  the  place  lohereon  thou  standest  is  holy.  And  Joshua 
did  so. 

Joshua  was  at  this  time  entering  upon  a  most  arduous  undertaking  ; 
that  of  attacking  the  nations  of  Canaan,  at  the  command  of  God,  with 
a  view  to  put  the  Israelites  in  possession  of  that  land  whicli  God  had 
sworn  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob,  he  would  bestow  on  their 
posterhy.     Joshua  had  just  been  invested  with  the  office  of  the  leader 

•  Preached  at  Leicester,  March,  1814. 


AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  WARFARE.  107 

of  the  chosen  people  in  the  room  of  Moses,  who  was  dead ;  he  had 
witnessed  their  frequent  rebelUons  against  his  predecessor,  who  had 
claims  to  their  obedience  peculiar  to  himself;  and  he  had  great  reason 
to  apprehend  that  the  spirit  of  perverseness  and  insubordination,  which 
occasioned  so  much  uneasiness,  would  burst  out  against  him  with 
additional  violence.  Add  to  this,  the  enterprise  on  which  he  was 
entering  was  in  itself  extremely  difficult  and  formidable. 

The  miraculous  appearance  presented  to  him  on  this  occasion  was 
probably  intended  lo  obviate  his  fears,  and  to  arm  him  with  an  undaunted 
resolution  in  accomplishing  the  arduous  duties  assigned  him.  It  is 
generally  agreed  by  the  most  judicious  commentators,  that  the  person- 
age who  presented  himself  to  Joshua  at  this  time  was  no  other  than  he 
who  afterward  became  incarnate, — "  the  Son  of  God,"  "  the  Angel  of 
the  Covenant,"  and  "  the  Captain  of  our  salvation."  From  his  com- 
manding Joshua  to  pull  his  shoes  from  off  his  feet,  assuring  him  the 
ground  whereon  he  stood  was  holy,  he  could  not  fail  to  infer  that  he 
who  addressed  him  was  a  Divine  person ;  these  being  the  identical 
words  addressed  to  Moses  when  God  appeared  to  him  in  the  burning 
bush.* 

We  may  learn  from  various  passages  in  the  New  Testament,  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  his  pre-existent  state  presided  over  the  Jewish 
nation,  conducted  it  through  the  wilderness,  and  communicated  that 
spirit  of  inspiration  by  which  its  succession  of  prophets  was  ac- 
tuated. 

It  is  to  those  divine  manifestations  of  himself  in  the  ancient  church 
there  is  reason  to  believe  St.  Paul  refers,  when,  contrasting  the  pre- 
existent  state  of  Christ  with  his  appearance  while  on  earth,  he  attributes 
to  him  the  form  of  God,  "  who,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not 
robbery  to  be  equal  with  God."t 

Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  adapted  to  support  the  mind  of  this 
great  man  of  God,  and  enable  him  to  encounter  every  obstacle  with 
fortitude,  than  such  a  divine  manifestation ;  by  which  he  was  assured 
the  Son  of  God  himself  undertook  the  conduct  of  the  war,  and  the  dis- 
comfiture of  his  foes. 

The  certainty  of  God  being  engaged  on  their  side  is,  in  every  age, 
the  chief  support  of  the  Christian  Israel,  in  the  conflict  they  are  called 
to  sustain  with  their  spiritual  enemies. 

The  present  state  of  the  church  of  God  is  justly  styled  a  militant 
state,  which  is  the  chief  distinction  between  its  present  and  future  con- 
dition. An  everlasting  victory  is  in  prospect,  when  all  enemies  will 
be  placed  under  its  feet.  In  the  mean  while,  whoever  belongs  to  the 
true  Israel  of  God  is  engaged  in  the  serious  and  momentous  contest, 
which  bears  in  many  points  a  striking  and  designed  resemblance  to 
the  wars  which  the  tribes  of  Israel  under  the  conduct  of  Joshua  waged 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Canaan. 

As  I  conceive,  if  we  attempt  to  trace  a  resemblance,  it  may  possibly 
minister  to  our  instruction  and  improvement,  I  shall  confine  the  follow- 
ing discourse  to  that  point. 

♦  Exod.  iii.  5.  t  PhU.  u.  6. 


108  WAR  WITH  THE  CANAANITES, 

I.  The  war  in  which  the  tribes  of  Israel  were  engaged  was  of  Divine 
appointment.  It  was  a  holy  war, — not  originating  in  the  enmity  or 
ambition  of  the  people  who  undertook  it,  but  in  the  sovereign  will  and 
pleasure  of  God,  who  had  promised  ages  back  to  put  them  in  posses- 
sion of  the  land  of  Canaan  ;  but  resolved,  for  the  wisest  ends,  that  the 
actual  possession  of  it  should  be  the  fruit  of  conquest. 

The  warfare  in  which  Christians  are  engaged,  in  like  manner,  is  of 
Divine  prescription  ;  it  is  one  to  which  they  are  solemnly  called.  The 
enemies  they  are  called  to  combat  are  God's  enemies  ;  and  it  is  his 
will  that  we  shall  yield  ourselves  as  instruments  in  his  hand  for  their 
destruction. 

In  resisting  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  we  are  executing 
his  commands,  and  are  consecrating  our  services  to  the  Most  High. 
To  be  resolute  and  determined  in  this  warfare  is  to  enter  into  the  very 
essence  of  our  Christian  caUing ;  and  it  is  the  principal  test  of  our 
fidelity  and  allegiance  to  the  King  of  kings.  Our  Saviour  has  dis- 
tinctly exhibited  them  in  his  word,  has  set  us  in  battle  array  against 
them,  and  says  to  us,  These  are  my  enemies,  and  also  yours,  and  you 
must  destroy  them. 

While  we  remain  in  a  state  of  unregeneracy,  we  are  scarcely  aware 
of  the  existence  of  these  enemies.  We  have  no  apprehension  of  dan- 
ger, and  consequently  seem  to  ourselves  to  be  in  a  [region]  of  peace 
and  safety.  But  no  sooner  are  the  "  eyes  of  tlie  understanding  enlight- 
ened," than  a  new  scene  presents  itself,  and  we  perceive  ourselves  to 
be  encompassed  with  foes,  and  are  at  once  convinced  that  no  repre- 
sentation of  the  Christian  calling  is  more  just  than  that  which  likens  it 
to  a  warfare. 

II.  The  nations  of  the  Canaanites,  whom  the  Israelites  were  com- 
manded to  expel,  were  extremely  numerous  and  formidable.  So  they 
appeared  to  the  spies  who  were  sent  by  Moses  to  search  out  the  land. 
"  The  land,"  say  they,  "  flovveth  with  milk  and  honey  :  nevertheless, 
the  people  be  strong,  and  the  cities  are  walled,  and  very  great :  and 
we  saw  the  children  of  Anak  there.  We  be  not  able  to  go  up  against 
this  people,  for  they  are  stronger  than  we  ;  all  the  people  that  we  saw 
in  it  are  men  of  great  stature ;  and  there  we  saw  the  giants,  the  sons 
of  Anak,  which  come  of  the  giants :  and  we  were  in  our  own  sight  as 
grasshoppers,  and  so  we  were  in  their  sight."* 

Moses  himself  frequently  reminds  the  Israelites  of  the  obligations 
they  will  be  under  to  love  and  serve  God,  when  he  shall  have  "  subdued 
under  them  nations  stronger  and  more  numerous  than  they." 

Here  we  may  infer  with  certainty,  that  there  was  naturally  no  pro- 
portion between  tlie  strength  of  the  Israelites  and  that  of  the  people 
they  were  appointed  to  subdue.  The  victory  to  which  they  aspired 
was  not  to  be  achieved  by  their  own  power; — they  were  encouraged 
by  the  assurance  that  the  Lord  would  fight  for  them, — which  is  abun- 
dantly verified  in  the  events  recorded  in  the  book  of  Joshua.  Thus 
the  enemies  which  obstruct  our  salvation  are  numerous  and  formidable, 
for  exceeding  our   active  powers  of  resistance ;   so  that  we  could 

♦  Num.  xlii.  27,  31-33. 


AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  WARFARE.  109 

entertain  no  hope  of  success,  were  we  abandoned  to  our  own  unassisted 
efforts. 

Who  could  flatter  himself  with  the  expectation  of  vanquishing  the 
assaults  and  escaping  the  snares  of  his  great  adversary ;  queUing  the 
motions  of  the  flesh,  and  overcoming  the  temptations  of  the  world, 
if  he  had  no  hope  of  superior  succour?  Never  were  forces  brought 
into  the  field  more  unequally  matched,  than  the  power  and  subtlety 
of  Satan,  enforced  by  the  influence  of  the  world  and  the  treachery  and 
corruption  of  our  own  hearts,  and  the  naked,  unaided  efforts  of  a  feeble 
worm. 

When  we  consider  the  perfect  subjection  to  which  the  far  greater 
part  of  mankind  are  reduced  under  these  their  spiritual  eneniies,  and 
the  havoc  and  destruction  they  are  continually  making  of  souls,  we 
shall  be  convinced  of  the  propriety  of  Scripture  language,  when  it 
speaks  of  "  the  powers  of  darkness ;"  "  To  turn  them  from  darkness 
to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God."  These  enemies 
have  triumphed  over  the  greatest  potentates,  have  held  in  invisible 
chains  the  greatest  of  men,  and  tyrannized,  with  little  or  no  resistance, 
over  those  who  have  been  the  terror  of  the  mighty  in  the  land  of  the 
living. 

III.  God  was  pleased  to  assign  to  the  people  of  Israel  a  leader 
who,  under  God,  was  to  marshal  their  forces  and  direct  their  operations. 
The  name  of  this  great  captain  was,  by  divine  authority,  called  Joshua, 
his  original  name  was  Hoshea ;  but  when  he  was  marked  out  for  the 
office  he  afterward  sustained,  it  was  changed  into  Joshua,  by  inserting 
one  of  the  letters  of  the  tetragrani,  or  the  incommunicable  name,  into 
his,  to  denote  his  partaking  of  the  Spirit,  and  being  invested  with  a 
portion  of  the  authority  of  God. 

The  word  Joshua  imports  a  Saviour,  and  it  is  precisely  the  same  in 
the  Hebrew  with  that  which  was  given  to  our  Saviour,  because  he 
was  to  "  save  his  people  from  their  sins." 

Under  the  conduct  and  command  of  this  great  captain  it  was  that 
the  people  of  Israel  were  to  expect  victory,  and  to  him  they  were 
commanded  to  pay  implicit  obedience. 

In  leading  the  church  militant,  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  by  name  and 
by  import  the  true  Joshua,  is  appointed  to  the  supreme  command  ;  and 
one  of  the  most  distinguishing  characters  under  which  he  appears  is 
that  of  "  the  Captain  of  our  salvation."*  He  said  to  Joshua,  "  As 
captain  of  the  Lord's  host  am  I  come,"  and  he  is  setup  and  proclaimed 
as  the  great  antagonist  of  Satan,  and  of  the  powers  of  darkness  ;  and 
it  is  only  under  his  auspices,  and  in  consequence  of  being  strengthened 
and  sustained  by  him,  that  we  can  indulge  the  hope  of  victory. 

His  "  grace  is  sufficient  for  us ;  his  strength  is  made  perfect  in  our 
weakness."!  "I  can  do  all  things,"  said  St.  Paul,  "through  Christ, 
which  strengtheneth  me."|  He  is  given  as  a  "  leader  and  commander 
to  the  peoplel'^  He  appeared  to  John  in  the  Apocalypse,  under  the 
character  of  leader  of  the  hosts  of  God.     "  And  I  saw  heaven  opened, 

*  Heb.  ii.  10.  t  2  Cor.  xii.  9.  %  Phil.  iv.  13.  §  Isaiah  Iv.  4. 


110  WAR  WITH  THE  CANAANITES, 

and  beheld  a  white  horse ;  and  he  that  sat  thereon  was  called  faithful 
find  true,  and  in  righteousness  he  doth  judge  and  make  war :  and  the 
armies  which  were  in  heaven  followed  him  upon  white  horses,  clotlied 
in  fine  linen,  white  and  clean.  And  out  of  his  mouth  goeth  a  sharp 
sword,  that  with  it  he  should  smite  the  nations."* 

From  him  supernatural  succours  are  derived  to  all  who  are  enlisted 
under  his  banner.  "  All  power  is  given  to  him  in  heaven,"  for  the 
express  purpose  that  he  may  give  eternal  life  to  all  his  followers  ;  and 
if  "  the  sun  stood  still  in  Gibeon,  and  the  moon  in  the  valley  of  Ajalon," 
the  whole  course  of  nature  is  under  the  control  of  Christ,  and  all  the 
operations  of  Providence  are  rendered  subservient  to  the  salvation  and 
victory  of  his  church.  And  Christians  are  not  dismayed  at  the  powers 
and  numbers  of  their  adversaries,  as  often  as  they  realize  the  character 
of  their  leader,  who  is  able  to  make  them  "  more  than  conquerors."! 

As  it  is  frequently  remarked  in  the  history  of  the  conquest  of  Canaan 
that  the  Lord  fought  for  Israel,  so  it  may  be  equally  affirmed  at  present 
with  respect  to  the  church  of  God. 

IV.  The  war  with  the  Canaanites  was  a  bcUum  internecinum — a 
war  which  was  never  to  be  terminated  but  in  the  destruction  of  the 
inhabitants.  Having  exhausted  the  patience  of  God  by  their  crimes 
and  impieties,  he  was  resolved  to  cut  them  off,  and  was  pleased  to 
employ  his  chosen  people  as  the  instruments  in  accomplishing  the 
purposes  of  his  justice.  Hence  they  were  strictly  prohibited  from 
making  any  league  or  truce  with  them,  or  seeking  their  peace  or  pros- 
perity in  any  shape  whatever.  How  often  are  they  admonished  with 
respect  to  the  duty  of  declining  affinity  with  them,  and  of  contracting 
any  social  ties ! 

The  character  of  this  war  was  peculiar  to  itself,  in  its  not  being 
intended  to  recover  violated  rights,  or  to  procure  indemnity  for  past 
injuries,  or  security  against  future  ;  but  to  vindicate  the  cause  of  God 
against  the  incorrigible,  and  to  exhibit  them  as  examples  of  divine 
retribution.  Regard  to  the  interests  of  those  who  engaged  -was  not 
the  only  or  the  prevailing  principle  of  this  war.  In  all  these  respects 
it  exliibits  a  striking  figure  of  the  warfare  the  church  of  God  is  called 
to  maintain  with  its  spiritual  enemies. 

Like  that  waged  with  the  Canaanites,  no  suitable  measures  are  to 
be  relaxed,  no  idea  of  concession  or  treaty  admitted,  no  thought  in- 
dulged of  future  amity  and  reconciliation.  Our  eyes  must  not  pity,  nor 
our  hands  spare;  no  tenderness  must  be  indulged  toAvards  our  spiritual 
enemies,  no  thought  admitted  but  of  pursuing  them  to  destruction. 
We  are  to  "  crucify  the  flesh  with  its  affections  and  lusts  ;"|  to  mortify, 
or,  in  other  words,  put  to  death  our  members  that  are  in  the  earth,  to 
endeavour  that  "the  body  of  sin  may  be  destroyed,  that  henceforth  we 
shall  not  serve  sin."^ 

As  the  people  of  Israel  were  forbidden  to  inquire  in  what  name  the 
Canaanites  had  served  their  gods,  and  were  not  to  take  their  name  into 
tlieir  lips  ;  so  Christians  are  to  have  no  communion  with  the  "  unfruitful 

♦  Rev.  xix.  11-15.  t  Rom.  viii.  37.  }  Gal.  v.  24.  ^  Rom.       fi. 


AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  WARFARE.  HI 

works  of  darkness"  but  to  "  reprove  them,"  while  "  fornication,  un- 
cleanness,  and  covetousness,  which  is  idolatry,  are  not  to  be  so  much 
as  named  among  them,  as  becometh  saints."*  Every  fibre  of  corrup- 
tion is,  if  possible,  to  be  extirpated,  every  part  of  the  old  man  to  be 
laid  aside,  "  old  things"  universally  renounced,  and  "  all  things  to 
become  new."  Hostilities  are  never  to  cease  till  the  enemy  perishes 
out  of  the  land. 

V.  Though  God  could  easily  have  destroyed  the  Canaanites  at 
once,  though  he  could  have  crowned  [his  people]  with  immediate  and 
decisive  victory ;  yet  he  chose  rather  to  do  it,  as  he  informs  them  by 
Moses,  "  by  little  and  little." 

He  adopted  this  method  to  exercise  more  fully  their  faith  and  patience. 
"  I  will  not  drive  them  out  from  before  thee  in  one  year,  lest  the  land 
become  desolate,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  multiply  against  thee. 
By  little  and  little  will  I  drive  them  out  from  before  thee,  until  thou 
be  increased,  and  inherit  the  land."t 

For  wise  and  mysterious  ends,  in  like  manner,  he  permits  his  church 
to  attain  but  a  gradual  victory.  It  is  by  slow  degrees,  and  by  a  long 
succession  of  conflicts,  that  conquest  is  achieved  :  the  force  of  the 
enemy  is  gradually  weakened,  and  it  is  long  ere  the  church  is  per- 
mitted completely  to  rest  from  its  toils. 

VI.  To  suffer  our  spiritual  enemies  to  remain  unsubdued  is  uni- 
formly productive  of  effects  analogous  to  those  which  the  Israelites 
were  warned  to  expect  from  sparing  the  Canaanitish  nations.  "  They 
shall  be  as  pricks  in  your  eyes,  and  goads  in  your  sides,  because  you 
will  not  drive  out  the  inhabitants  of  the  land  from  before  you.  Then 
it  shall  come  to  pass  that  those  which  ye  let  remain  of  them  shall  be 
as  pricks  in  your  eyes,  and  thorns  in  your  sides,  and  shall  vex  you  in 
the  land  wherein  ye  dwell.  Moreover,  it  shall  come  to  pass  that  I 
shall  do  unto  you  as  I  thouglit  to  do  unto  them."|  It  is  one  thing  to 
suffer  our  enemies  to  remain  unmolested,  and  another  to  commiserate 
their  existence. 

There  are  seasons  when  the  Christian,  overdone  with  continual 
opposition,  is  ready  to  yield  himself  to  the  love  of  ease,  and,  relaxing 
in  his  opposition  and  vigilance,  permits  the  enemy  to  gain  some  ad- 
vantages ;  but  if  he  hopes  thereby  to  procure  lasting  tranquillity,  he  is 
greatly  mistaken.  There  is  that  irreconcilable  hatred  between  the 
principle  of  grace  and  the  principle  of  corruption,  between  the  new 
and  the  old  man",  Christ  and  Satan,  that  nothing  is  gained  by  an  attempt 
to  compromise  their  differences,  or  amicably  to  adjust  their  claims. 

Our  spiritual  enemies  are  never  capable  of  being  softened  by  in- 
dulgence, of  becoming  neutral,  much  less  of  being  converted  into  friends. 
They  will  be  incessantly  plotting  our  destruction,  and  watching  for  our 
unguarded  moments,  in  order  to  catch  every  possible  advantage  of  us  ; 
and  the  only  safe  way  is  [for  us  also]  to  be  always  on  the  watch, 
always  distrustful  of  them,  and  hostile. 

The   people   of   Israel   might   have    rid   themselves    much    more 

♦  Eph.  V.  3.  f  Exod.  xxiii.  29,  30.  t  Num.  xxxiii.  55,  5«,  &c. 


112         ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART. 

completely  of  their  enemies,  had  they  availed  themselves  more  dili- 
gently of  their  first  advantages.  Afterward  their  enemies  were  suf- 
fered to  remain  for  their  trial.* 

VII.  The  people  were  dismayed  at  the  report  of  the  spies  :  a  lively 
resemblance  to  the  conduct  of  too  many  who  set  out  towards  the 
heavenly  Canaan,  but  in  the  contest  suffer  themselves  to  be  dismayed. 


XXI: 

ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART. 

Psalm  xxxvii.  31. — The  law  of  God  is  in  his  heart ;  none  of  his  steps 

shall  slide. 

The  temporary  prosperity  of  the  wicked  has  in  every  age  afforded 
a  trial  to  the  faith  and  patience  of  the  righteous.  Often  are  they 
doomed  to  behold  the  contemner  of  God  "  flourishing  like  a  green  bay- 
tree,"  abounding  in  sensual  pleasures  and  luxurious  enjoyments,  and 
elated  with  pride,  as  though  the  world  were  made  only  for  them ; 
while  such  as  fear  his  name  are  crushed  under  the  rod  of  power,  and 
subjected  to  the  greatest  privations  and  sufferings.  Such  is  the  scene 
of  providence,  a  scene  which  appears  to  have  given  birth  to  the  com- 
position of  this  psalm,  in  which  the  impatience  and  discontent  which 
such  a  spectacle  is  apt  to  occasion  is  corrected,  the  brevity  of  the 
worldly  prosperity  of  the  wicked  is  foretold,  and  the  final  happiness 
and  triumph  of  the  righteous  is  asserted.  The  [righteous]  are  assured 
of  the  powerful  protection  of  the  Supreme  Being,  whose  favour  they 
at  present  enjoy ;  whose  wisdom  is  continually,  though  invisibly, 
operating  in  securing  their  future  good.  "  The  Lord  loveth  judgment, 
and  forsaketh  not  his  saints  ;  they  are  preserved  for  ever  :  but  the 
seed  of  the  wicked  shall  be  cut  off.  The  righteous  shall  inherit  the 
land,  and  dwell  tlierein  for  ever."t 

In  opposition  to  the  transient  prosperity  and  the  fugitive  pleasures 
enjoyed  by  the  wicked,  the  righteous  are  distinguished  by  the  possession 
of  permanent  principles  and  unfading  prospects.  He  is  upheld  by  an 
invisible  but  abiding  power,  and  his  character  and  conduct  partake 
of  the  unchangeablencss  which  belongs  to  his  interior  principles  :  "  The 
law  of  his  God  is  in  his  heart ;  none  of  his  steps  shall  slide." 

By  "  the  law,"  in  this  passage,  it  is  probable  we  are  to  understand 
the  word  of  God  in  general,  with  a  particular  reference  to  the  preceptive 
part,  m  the  same  sense  as  it  must  undoubtedly  be  taken  throughout 
the  119th  Psalm.     The  preceptive  part  forms  so  essential  a  branch  of 

•  Judges  11.  2,  3.  21-23.  t  Psalm  xxxvii.  28,  29. 


ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART.        113 

every  system  of  revelation,  that  it  may  with  great  propriety  impart 
its  pecuUar  name  to  the  whole,  agreeably  to  which  even  the  gospel  is 
denominated  "  the  law  of  faith."* 

These  words  present  us,  first,  with  a  view  of  the  internal  principle 
■which  actuates  a  good  man, — "  the  law  of  God  is  in  his  heart ;"  next, 
with  its  effects  on  his  external  character  and  conduct, — "  iio7ie  of  his 
steps  shall  slide.'''' 

1.  The  inward  principle  which  actuates  him  :  "  the  law  of  God  is 
in  his  heart."     This  imphes, 

1.  An  acquaintance  with  the  law,  considered  as  the  standard  of 
holiness,  as  the  rule  of  action.  A  precept  may  be  known  which  is 
not  obeyed  ;  but  it  is  impossible  it  should  be  obeyed  when  it  is  not 
known.  Nor  will  ignorance  of  the  will  of  God  excuse  the  disobedient ; 
since  such  ignorance  must  be  voluntary,  the  consequence  of  "  loving 
darkness  rather  than  light."  The  time  is  long  past  when  such  a  pre- 
tence mighi  have  been  urged  with  some  plausibility.  That  period  is 
elapsed  when  it  was  necessary  for  men  "  to  feel  after  God,"  like 
persons  who  grope  in  search  of  an  object  in  the  dark.  "The  day 
hath  dawned,  the  day-star  hath  risen,"  the  light  of  revelation  shines  with 
a  brilliant  effulgence,  and  the  path  of  duty  [is]  made  so  plain,  that  the 
"  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  shall  not  err  therein."!  When  ignorance 
of  the  will  of  the  Great  Supreme  arises  from  inattention,  from  carnal 
security,  from  a  passive  indifference  whether  he  be  pleased  or  displeased ; 
instead  of  mitigating,  it  aggravates  the  guilt  of  disobedience.  "  They 
are  a  people,"  saith  the  prophet,  "  of  no  understanding :  therefore  he 
that  made  them  will  not  have  mercy  on  them,  he  that  formed  them  will 
show  them  no  favour."^  How  different  is  it  with  the  good  man  !  "As 
the  eyes  of  servants  look  unto  their  masters,  and  the  eyes  of  a  maiden 
into  the  hand  of  her  mistress  ;  so  his  eyes  wait  upon  the  Lord  ;"  that  he 
may  attend  to  his  directions  and  receive  his  orders.  Conscious  that  he 
is  made  for  God,  he  carefully  explores  his  will,  and  he  "  meditates  on 
his  law  day  and  night." 

By  a  careful  perusal  of  the  sacred  volume,  by  diligently  weighing 
and  pondering  the  precepts  of  revelation,  he  is  constantly  enlarging  his 
conceptions  of  duty,  and  arriving  nearer  and  nearer  to  a  full  and  perfect 
comprehension  of  the  spirit  and  import  of  its  sacred  injimctions.  His 
fear  of  God  is  not  taught  by  the  commandments  of  men,  stands  not  in 
human  observances  and  will-worship,  but  in  a  solid  acquaintance  with 
the  dictates  of  inspiration.  Hence  the  service  he  presents  is  a  reason- 
able one,  the  offspring  of  an  enlightened  faith,  such  as  it  is  becoming 
man  to  offer,  and  God  to  accept. 

By  seriously  applying  the  mind  to  the  exhortations  and  injunctions 
of  the  sacred  page,  a  good  man  arrives  at  a  "quick  understanding  in 
the  fear  of  the  Lord,"  and  his  senses  are  "  exercised  to  discern 
between  good  and  evil." 

2.  The  man  of  God  is  distinguished  by  an  habitual  [reference]  to 
his  mind  and  will.     He  is  not  merely  acquainted  with  it  as  a  branch 

*  Rom.  iii.  27.  f  Isaiah  xxxv.  8.  {  Isaiah  xxvii.  11. 

Vol.  III. — H 


114       ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART. 

of  speculation,  which  serves  to  extend  his  knowledge,  and  to  recommend 
itself  to  his  understanding,  while  it  seldom  mingles  with  the  ordinary 
current  of  his  thoughts  ;  it  is  not  merely  deposited  >n  that  department 
of  his  mind  which  seems  a  cabinet  for  the  preservation  of  what  is 
curious,  rather  than  the  reception  of  that  which  he  has  daily  occasion 
to  use.  The  precepts  of  God  occupy  much  of  his  thoughts,  and 
engage  much  of  his  attention.  The  knowledge  of  them  is  continually 
revived,  the  remembrance  of  them  refreshed,  by  daily  mental  recol- 
lections, by  reiterated  acts  of  attention,  such  as  it  becomes  us  to  exert 
towards  the  counsels  and  ordinances  of  the  Great  Eternal.  It  is  thus, 
and  thus  only,  that  knowledge  becomes  practical  aixl  influential  ;  that 
the  light  which  first  pervades  the  intellect  descends  into  the  hearty  and 
diffuses  itself  through  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul. 

"  And  these  words,"'said  Moses,  "which  I  command  thee  this  day, 
sl^vall  be  in  thine  heart :  and  thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto  thy 
children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine  house,  and 
when  thou  walkest  by  the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when 
thou  risest  up."* 

The  original  word  is  extremely  expressive, — "  thou  shalt  whet  them 
on  thy  children,"  [or  whet  thy  children  upon  them,]  in  allusion  to  the 
practice  of  giving  the  necessary  edge  to  certain  instruments,  by  con- 
tinual friction  with  hard  substance.  Thus  a  good  man  whets  the  word 
of  God  on  his  own  mind  [so  as  to  sharpen  it]  by  successive  acts  of 
serious  attention,  [and  thus  acquires]  an  aptitude  in  applying  it  to  its 
proper  purpose.  In  the  most  busy  and  tumultuous  scenes  of  life,  it 
naturally  occurs  to  his  recollections,  it  instantaneously  presents  itself 
to  his  thoughts;  while  to  the  wicked  the  "judgments  of  the  Lord  are 
far  above  out  of  his  sight,"  and  it  is  with  great  ditficulty  that  he  raises 
his  mind  to  such  high  and  holy  meditations,  and,  after  all,  it  is  a  painful 
and  short-lived  eflbrt. 

3.  The  good  man  is  impressed  w  ith  a  deep  sense  of  the  obligation 
of  the  law  of  God,  accompanied  with  a  sincere  resolution  of  implicit 
and  unreserved  obedience.  He  is  not  only  acquainted  with  the  rules 
of  duty,  he  does  not  merely  make  them  the  object  of  his  serious  and 
habitual  attention  :  he  acce<les  to  the  justice  of  their  claims ;  his 
conscience  is  enlightened  to  discern  their  equity  and  their  obligation  ; 
and  he  humbly  but  firmly  resolves,  in  the  strength  of  divine  grace,  to 
yield  a  practical  compliance.  Far  from  arraigning  the  precepts  of 
God  as  too  strict,  too  extended,  or  too  spiritual,  he  entirely  acquiesces 
in  their  justic-e  and  propriety,  and  turns  the  edge  of  his  censure  and 
reproaches  on  himself  only.  "  O  that  my  ways  were  directed  to  keep 
thy  statutes  !"  He  is  perfectly  satisfied  that,  however  he  may  be 
"  carnal,  sold  under  sin,"  "  the  law  is  holy,  and  the  commandment 
holy,  and  just,  and  good."t  He  blames  himself  only,  not  the  strictness 
of  the  precept;  he  laments  the  weakness  and  corruption  of  the  flesh, 
not  the  purity  of  the  divine  conuuand.  Although  he  perfectly  despairs 
of  yielding  such  an  obedience  to  its  requisitions  as  shall  justify  him  in 
the  sight  of  God,  he  maintains  a  steady  and  conscientious  respect  to 

♦Deut.  vi.  6,  7.  t  Rom.  vii.  12. 


ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART.        115 

all  his  commandments.  "  Thy  word,"  saith  David,  "  is  a  lamp  unto 
my  feet,  and  a  light  unto  my  path."  "  I  have  sworn,  and  I  will  perform 
it,  that  I  will  keep  thy  righteous  judgments."* 

Holy  resolutions  are  essential  to  a  sincere  obedience  :  they  may 
become  abortive  by  being  framed  in  our  own  strength,  and  without 
"  counting  the  cost ;  but,  notwithstanding,  they  are  a  necessary  prepa- 
ration to  the  conscientious  performance  of  duty.  Nothing  is  more 
certain  than  that  real  religion  is  a  reasonable  and  voluntary  service  :  he 
will  never  truly  serve  God  who  is  not  deliberately  resolved  to  do  so. 
Good  resolutions  bear  the  same  relation  to  [upright  conduct]  as  the 
seed  bears  to  the  fruit. 

All  this,  however,  of  itself,  is  indeed  sufficient  to  form  a  slave,  not 
a  child — to  produce  a  constrained  and  reluctant  obedience,  not  the 
cheerful  homage  of  a  heart  flowing  with  gratitude  and  love.  The 
xmderstanding  may  be  enlightened,  conscience  awakened,  and  the 
external  conduct  reputable  ;  while  the  service  of  God  is  felt  as  an 
insupportable  load,  with  difficulty  sustained,  though  impossible  to  be 
shaken  ofl*. 

Something  more  is  requisite  to  render  religion  a  delight,  to  convert 
wisdom's  ways  into  "  M'ays  of  pleasantness,"  and  her  paths  into  "paths 
of  peace." 

4.  To  put  the  finisliing  stroke,  then,  to  the  character  of  a  good  man, 
let  me  add,  once  more,  that  his  heart  is  inspired  with  a  love  to  the 
law  of  God  after  the  "  inner  man."  Considered  as  a  transcript  of  the 
divine  perfections,  as  an  expression  of  [God's]  immaculate  holiness, 
as  the  instrument  of  his  sanctification,  it  is  the  object  of  his  devoted 
attachment.  The  dispositions  which  it  enforces  are  wrought  into  his 
heart ;  the  inward  bias  of  his  mind  is  directed  towards  the  holiness 
which  it  prescribes  ;  and  so  intense  is  his  approbation  of  all  its  requi- 
sitions, that  the  least  alteration  in  it  would  give  him  pain.  He  longs 
not  to  have  the  standard  of  duty  reduced  to  his  level,  but  to  have  his 
own  heart  raised  to  its  elevation.  He  would  not  wish  for  a  law  which 
connived  at  impurity,  which  commanded  any  thing  short  of  moral 
perfection.  [Its]  immaculate  holiness  to  him  forms  its  principal 
attraction. 

It  is  also  entitled  to  our  warmest  attachment  on  account  of  its 
beneficial  tendency ;  it  is  adapted,  in  the  highest  degree,  to  correct 
every  moral  irregularity,  and  to  diffuse  order  and  happiness  throughout 
the  whole  creation.  In  proportion  as  it  is  obeyed,  it  never  fails  to 
ensure  the  "  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness." 

Hence  those  passionate  expressions  of  attachment  to  the  holy 
precepts  of  God  which  abound  in  the  writings  of  David,  and  particularly 
in  the  1 19th  Psalm.  "  O  how  love  I  thy  law  !"  »  My  soul  breaketh 
for  the  longing  that  it  hath  unto  thy  judgments  at  all  times."  "  I  will 
speak  of  thy  testimonies  before  kings,  and  will  not  be  ashamed  :  and  I 
will  delight  myself  in  thy  commandments,  which  I  have  loved.  My 
hands  also  will  I  lift  up  unto  thy  commandments,  which  I  have  loved ; 
and  I  will  meditate  on  thy  statutes." 

•  Psalm  cxix.  105,  106. 
H2 


116      ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  IN  THE  HEART. 

Its  precepts  may  often  do  violence  to  the  inclinations  of  flesh  and 
blood,  may  often  urge  to  laborious  duties  and  painful  sacrifices  ;  sinful 
pleasures  may  be  [desired,]  which  unsanctified  natures  find  as  diiucult 
10  part  with  as  to  "  cut  ofl'  a  right  hand,  or  to  pluck  out  a  right  eye  ;" 
but  still  the  manifest  equity  of  its  requisitions,  and  their  evident  subser- 
viency to  our  best,  our  eternal  interest,  is  such,  that  they  are  cordially 
approved.  A  congeniality  of  mind  with  the  tenor  of  the  divine  precepts 
is  experienced  ;  whence  arises  a  practical  compliance,  not  so  much  the 
fruit  of  necessity,  as  the  effect  of  inward  vital  principle.  Herein  is 
fulfilled  the  gracious  declaration  of  the  new  covenant — "  But  this  shall 
be  the  covenant  that  I  will  make  with  the  house  of  Israel ;  After 
those  days,  saith  the  Lord,  I  will  put  my  laAv  in  their  inward  parts, 
and  write  it  in  their  hearts ;  and  will  be  their  God,  and  they  shall  be 
my  people."*  This  is  the  great  work  of  the  Spirit  on  the  souls  of  the 
faithful,  the  seal  of  God  on  the  heart  of  his  servants,  and  the  distin- 
guishing feature  in  the  character  of  his  children.  Their  love  to  the 
law  produces  grief  at  seeing  it  violated.  "  Horror  hath  taken  hold 
upon  me,  because  of  the  wicked  that  forsake  thy  law."t 

5.  In  a  good  man,  this  attachment  to  the  law  of  God  and  to  the 
rules  of  duty  is  progressive,  and  with  every  accession  of  religious 
experience,  becomes  more  vigorous  and  confirmed.  The  farther  he 
advances  in  his  Christian  course,  the  more  deeply  he  is  convinced 
that  his  prosperity  is  inseparably  allied  to  obedience,  that  his  spiritual 
enjoyments  rise  or  fall  in  proportion  as  he  walks  more  or  less  closely 
■with  his  God.  "  Oh  that  my  people  had  hearkened  unto  me,  and 
Israel  had  walked  in  my  ways  !  I  should  soon  have  subdued  their 
enemies,  and  turned  my  hand  against  their  adversaries.  He  should 
have  fed  them  also  with  the  finest  of  the  wheat :  and  with  honey  out 
of  the  rock  should  I  have  satisfied  thee."j: 

"  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  thy  Redeemer,  the  Holy  One  of  Israel :  I  am 
the  Lord  thy  God  which  teacheth  thee  to  profit,  which  leadeth  thee  by 
the  way  which  thou  shouldst  go.  O  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my 
commandments  !  then  had  thy  peace  been  as  a  river,  and  thy  righteous- 
ness as  the  waves  of  the  sea."^ 

II.  Its  effects  on  his  character  and  conduct :  "  none  of  his  steps 
shall  slide."  His  steps  shall  not  fatally  slide ;  he  shall  maintain  a 
uniform  and  consistent  deportment. 

L  The  violence  of  temptation  shall  not  overpower  him. 

2.  The  suddenness  of  it  shall  not  surprise  him. 

3.  The  deceiifulness  of  it  shall  not  seduce  him. 

4.  The  example  of  the  multitude  shall  not  prevail. 

•  Jer.  xxxi.  33.  f  Psalm  cxix.  53.  *  Psalm  Ixxxl.  13,  14,  16.         $  Isa.  xlviii.  17, 18 


ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE  OF  FAITH.  117 

XXII. 

ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE  OF  FAITH. 

Luke  xvii.  5. — And  the  apostle  said  unto  the  Lord,  Increase  our  faith. 

We  have  here  an  example  of  prayer  addressed  to  Christ,  wliich 
implies  an  acknowledgment  of  his  divinity,  since  it  is  a  received  prin- 
ciple of  Scripture  that  God  only  is  the  proper  object  of  prayer. 

It  is  the  more  deserving  of  our  attention  on  account  of  its  being  a 
prayer  for  a  spiritual  blessing,  and  that  a  blessing  of  prime  importance ; 
nor  could  it,  with  any  propriety,  be  presented  to  one  who  was  not  con- 
ceived to  have  immediate  access  to  the  mind.  However  wavering  or 
confused  the  apprehension  the  apostles  entertained  of  Christ's  personal 
dignity  might  be  during  the  continuance  of  his  ministry  on  earth,  it 
seems  evident,  from  this  instance,  that  there  were  seasons  when  they 
felt  a  lively  conviction  of  his  divinity,  under  which  they  ascribed  to 
him  a  sovereign  power  over  the  heart. 

From  the  reply  which  our  Saviour  makes  to  this  petition,  it  is 
probable  it  more  immediately  respected  that  faith  of  ir.iracles  with 
which  the  apostles  were  in  some  measure  endued,  and  which  was 
greatly  strengthened  and  enlarged  after  the  day  of  Pentecost.  The 
weakness  of  that  faith  they  had  on  some  occasions  experienced,  when 
persons  afflicted  with  maladies  were  brought  to  them  and  they  were 
npt  able  to  eflect  their  cure.*  A  circumstance  of  this  nature,  it  is 
possible,  had  recently  occurred,  which  gave  rise  to  this  request. 

Whatever  particular  species  of  faith  might  be  designed  in  the  words 
of  the  apostle  now  before  us,  we  shall  beg  leave  to  consider  faith,  in 
the  present  discourse,  in  its  more  ordinary  acceptation,  in  which  it 
denotes  a  persuasion  of  divine  truth,  founded  on  the  testimony  and 
produced  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 

The  faith  of  which  we  shall  speak  is  that  cordial  assent  to  the  testi- 
mony of  God  which  distinguishes  all  regenerate  persons,  and  which  is 
defined  by  St.  Paul,  "  the  substance  of  tilings  hoped  for,  the  evidence 
of  things  not  seen."!  Faith,  in  the  New  Testament,  is  apphed  solely 
to  the  exercise  of  the  mind  on  the  divine  testimony.  It  denotes  a 
reliance  on  the  veracity  and  faithfulness  of  God, — his  veracity  respect- 
ing the  truth  of  what  he  has  affirmed,  his  faithfulness  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  what  he  has  promised.  Hence  it  differs  from  sense  and 
reason.  Of  the  objects  of  the  former  we  gain  a  knowledge  by  imme- 
diate experience,  by  their  direct  impressions  on  the  bodily  organs  ;  of 
those  which  fall  within  the  province  of  the  latter,  we  arrive  at  a  con- 
viction by  a  process  of  argument  more  or  less  simple.  Faith,  on  the 
contrary,  is  a  reliance  on  the  truth  of  what  God  has  declared  simply 
because  he  has  declared  it.     It  implies  a  revelation  of  his  mind  and 

*  Luke  ix.  40.  t  Heb.  xi.  I. 


118  ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE  OF  FAITH. 

will,  and  the  principle  an  which  it  founds  the  assurance  of  whatever  it 
embraces  is  this,  that  the  Supreme  Being  can  neither  deceive  his 
creatures  nor  be  deceived.  It  converses  with  supernatural  verities, 
that  is,  with  truths  which  are  not  capable  of  being  ascertained  by 
sense,  or  demonstrated  by  reason. 

In  our  present  discourse  we  shall  confine  ourselves  to  two  observa- 
tions. 

I.  That  genuine  faith  admits  of  degrees, 

II.  That  an  increase  of  faith  is,  on  every  account,  highly  desirable. 
I.  Where  faith  is  genuine  and  sincere,  it  is  yet  susceptible  of  different 

degrees.  Considered  with  respect  to  the  number  of  the  truths  embra  ed, 
it  is  obvious  at  first  sight  that  the  faith  of  one  Christian  may  be  far  more 
extensive  than  that  of  another.  Though  every  real  Christian  embraces 
the  whole  revelation  of  God,  and  has  consequently  an  implicit  confi- 
dence  in  all  the  declarations  contained  in  it,  yet  the  knowledge  of  one 
may  extend  to  many  more  particulars  than  that  of  another :  a  more 
accurate  acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures  may  bring  before  the  view 
some  truths  of  which  the  other  entertains  no  conception.  The  religious 
belief  of  one  may  be  confined  to  first  principles,  while  that  of  another 
includes  also  the  higher  and  more  refined  mysteries  of  Christianity. 
Considered  in  this  light,  none  can  doubt  of  the  possibility  of  an  increase 
of  faith ;  though,  strictly  speaking,  such  an  enlargement  of  the  view 
may  be  more  properly  denominated  an  increase  of  knowledge. 

An  increase  of  faith  respects  more  immediately  further  development 
of  the  principle  itself,  a  greater  force  of  persuasion,  a  more  unshaken 
confidence  in  revealed  truth,  accompanied  with  a  more  uncontrolled 
ascendency  of  it  over  the  heart.  The  strength  of  Abraham's  faith  is 
described,  not  as  consisting  in  the  extent  of  the  truths  it  embraced,  bul 
in  the  force  and  vigour  of  his  persuasion  of  the  Divine  promises.  It 
is  opposed  to  his  "  staggering  through  unbelief."  A  persuasion  of  the 
same  divine  truths,  even  when  it  is  cordial  and  sincere,  may  admit  of 
augmentation.  The  power  and  grace  of  the  Redeemer,  for  example, 
by  which  "  he  is  able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost  that  come  unto 
God  by  him,"*  are  cordially  believed  by  all  Christians;  ; — but  they 
are  apprehended  with  different  measures  of  clearness  and  force  :  with 
some  they  are  sufficient  to  imbolden  them  to  venture  upon  him  with 
trembling  hope  ;  with  others  they  produce  the  full  assurance  of  faith, 
accompanied  with  "joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. "f  The  trans- 
cendent love  of  the  Redeemer,  in  dying  for  us,  is  truly  apprehended 
and  sincerely  believed  by  all  true  Christians  ;  but  the  views  which 
they  entertain  of  it  are  very  different  in  depth  and  impression.  As  the 
same  object  may  be  seen  under  difierent  lights,  so  the  same  truths  may 
be  contemplated  with  distinct  degrees  of  evidence  and  brightness.  To 
"  perfect  that  which  is  lacking  in  your  faith. "|  "  Your  faith  groweth 
exceedingly."§     "  Rut  having  hope,  when  your  faith  is  increased. "|| 

By  the  nature  of  things,  the  light  of  faith  must  ever  be  inferior  to 
that  of  vision ;  it  can  never  fully  reach,  in  its  power  over  the  heart, 
the  perfection  of  sight,  and,  consequently,  will  never  make  us  equally 

•  Heb,  vii.  25.        t  1  Pel-  i-  8-         t  1  Thcss.  in.  10.         $  2  Jbetis.  1. 13.         \\  2  Cor.  x.  13. 


ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE  OF  FAITH.  119 

happy  or  holy  with  those  who  "  see  as  they  are  seen,  and  know  as  they 
are  known."  There  is  a  limit  to  which  it  can  never  reach,  but  it  may 
make  nearer  and  nearer  approaches  to  it.  These  things,  on  which  the 
faith  of  a  Christian  is  exercised,  may  be  considered  as  twofold ;  con- 
sisting either  of  objects  revealed  which  have  a  present  subsistence,  or 
promises  of  future  good.  The  character  and  perfections  of  the  blessed 
God,  the  office  and  work  of  the  Redeemer,  the  dignity  of  his  person, 
the  efficacy  of  his  blood,  and  the  prevalence  of  his  intercession,  belong 
to  the  former.  The  light  of  faith  makes  this  known  to  us ;  and  this 
light  is  progressive,  and  by  it  we  may  attain  to  still  higher  and  more 
transforming  views  of  God  and  the  Redeemer.* 


XXIII. 

SECOND  DISCOURSE  ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE 
OF  FAITH. 

IjUke  xvii.  5. — Lord,  increase  our  faith. 

"The  advantages  resulting  from  an  increase  of  faith. 

I.  As  they  respect  ourselves. 

II.  As  they  regard  the  Supreme  Being. 

I.  As  they  respect  ourselves.  It  will  have  powerful  influence  in 
increasing  our  religious  enjoyments.  One  grand  design  of  Christianity 
is  to  make  mankind  happy  by  diminishing  that  portion  of  vexation  of 
spirit  which  cleaves  to  all  earthly  things.  "  These  things  have  I 
spoken  unto  you,"  said  our  blessed  Lord,  "  that  your  joy  might  be 
full."t  But  the  degree  of  this  joy  will  be  proportioned  to  the  measure 
of  our  faith. 

1.  An  increase  of  faith  will  efl^ectually  deliver  us  from  distressing 
doubts  respecting  our  state.  As  light  makes  all  other  things  manifest, 
so  it  makes  itself.  While  faith  is  "  like  to  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,"i 
it  may  be  difficult  to  be  discerned  ;  but  when  it  becomes  more  matured, 
it  will  be  easily  perceivable. 

2.  The  things  of  God  are  so  transcendently  excellent  and  glorious, 
that  the  more  lively  our  apprehension  of  them,  the  more  happy  we 
shall  necessarily  be.  The  more  we  see  of  God  in  Christ,  the  more 
■we  shall  be  conscious  of  a  surpassing  beauty  in  those  objects  that 
will  eclipse  the  whole  world  in  our  view.  The  all-sufficiency  and 
unchangeableness,  the  goodness,  holiness,  and  truth  of  the  Great 
Eternal,  viewed  by  faith,  will  fill  the  mind  with  the  most  exalted 
satisfaction.  The  glory  of  the  visible  heavens  and  of  the  earth  is 
nothing  more  than  the  reflection,  or  rather  the  shadow,  of  this  glory. 
If  the  contemplation  of  created  truth  and  goodness,  developed  in  the 

*  This  and  the<following  sermon  were  preached  in  June,  1810. 
t  John  XV.  U.  X  Malt.  xiii.  31. 


120  ON  PRAYER  FOR  THE  INCREASE  OF  FAITH. 

actions  of  man,  affords  so  high  a  satisfaction, — if  it  is  sufficient,  in  its 
brightest  display,  to  excite  rapture, — how  much  more  [will  the  mind  be] 
fired  in  meditating  by  faith  on  the  original,  unchanging,  and  eternal 
truth  and  goodness  !  If  to  trace  the  counsels  of  princes,  [to  observe] 
the  masterly  strokes  of  wisdom  and  address  evinced  in  the  management 
of  the  concerns  of  earthly  kijigdoms  [give  pleasure,]  how  much  more 
ravishing  to  have  laid  open  to  our  view  the  counsels  of  the  King  of 
kings, — to  be  allowed  to  behold  the  deep  things  of  God — the  contrivance 
of  that  covenant  which  is  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure — the  thoughts 
of  his  heart,  which  endure  to  all  generations  !  How  delightful  to  see 
the  footsteps  of  divine  grace  in  ancient  times,  the  gradual  preparations 
for  the  coming  of  Christ,  the  types  and  shadows  of  the  law  preparing 
the  way  for  preaching  the  Cross,  and  die  preaching  of  the  Cross 
succeeded  by  the  vision  of  eternal  glory  !  If  to  contemplate  some 
stupendous  work  of  God  fills  the  mind  with  admiration  and  delight, 
how  much  more  to  dwell  by  faith  on  the  mediation  of  Him  who  is 
"  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person,"*  assuming  our  nature,  carrying  our  sins  up  with  him  to  the 
cross,  rising  from  the  dead,  sitting  at  the  right-hand  of  God,  ever  living 
to  make  intercession,  diffusing  his  Spirit  and  scattering  his  graces 
among  the  children  of  men.  Who  that  knows  any  thing  of  such  an 
object  can  be  content  without  wishing  to  know  more  of  him  ?  Who 
will  not  be  disposed  to  look  on  all  things  else  as  dross  and  dung  w  hen 
compared  to  such  an  object  ? 

To  feel  the  steady  illumination  of  faith  is  to  dwell  in  a  calm  and 
holy  hght ;  and  if  it  is  a  pleasant  thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the 
natural  light,  how  much  more  to  behold  this  light  of  God,  which  sheds 
an  incomparably  sweeter  ray ;  which  reveals  his  face,  brings  near  his 
love,  and  lays  open  the  prospects  of  eternity  !  Guided  by  this  light, 
you  will  be  conducted  to  the  abode  of  the  celestial  city,  when  a  view 
will  be  opened  into  paradise,  and  you  will  hear,  with  John,  "  the  voice 
of  a  great  multitude,  as  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of 
■harpers  harping  with  their  harps,  and  crying.  Blessing,  and  honour,  and 
glory,  and  power  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the 
Lamb,  for  ever  and  cver."t 

1.  An  increase  of  faith  will  deliver  us  from  the  perplexity  which 
springs  from  a  state  of  mind  unsettled  in  religion. 

2.  It  will  have  an  extensive  influence  on  our  sanctification. 

(J.)  The  joys  of  faith  will  diminish  your  sensibility  of  the  pleasures 
of  sin.  The  pure  and  certain  satisfaction  which  springs  from  spiritual 
views  will  indispose  you  to  relish  the  polluted  gratifications  of  sense : 
the  satisfaction  to  be  derived  from  earthly  pleasures  will  appear  too 
light  and  airy,  too  transitory  and  inconstant,  to  bear  a  comparison  with 
those  richer  enjoyments  to  which  the  soul  has  access  by  faith. 

(2.)  As  the  gospel  supplies  the  strongest  motives  to  holiness,  so  faith 
brings  the  heart  into  contact  with  those  motives. 

(3.)  So  important  is  an  increase  of  faidi  to  an  advancement  in  the 
divine  life,  that  all  tlie  graces  of  the  Christian  are  represented  as  so 

•  Ileb.  i.  3.  t  Rev.  xiv.  2 ;  v.  13. 


ON  WISDOM.  121 

many  fruits  of  faith,  neither  any  further  acceptable  to  God  than  as  they 
spring  from  this  principle.  In  tlieir  extent,  perfection,  alid  variety 
they  are  nothing  more  than  the  genuine  practice  of  a  lively  faith  : 
"  Abide  in  me,  and  let  my  words  abide  in  you."*  Faith  is  a  prolific 
grace  ;  it  produces  and  maintains  every  other ;  it  "  works  by  love  ;"t 
it  purifies  the  heart.;}; 

II.  In  its  aspect  towards  God.  It  is  the  grand  instrument  of  glori- 
fying him. 

In  its  essential  exercises,  apart  from  its  external  effects,  it  is  emi- 
nently adapted  to  glorify  God.  It  renders  to  him  the  glory  due  unto 
his  name.  It  rests  on  him  as  the  Eternal  Truth,  as  the  Rock  of  Ages  : 
"  Abraham,  being  strong  in  faith,  gave  glory  to  God."§ 

Directions  for  increasing  Faith. 

I.  Earnest  and  humble  prayer :  "  Lord,  increase  our  faith."  Fall 
at  the  footstool  of  the  Cross,  crying,  with  him  in  the  gospel,  "  Lord,  I 
believe  ;  help  thou  my  unbelief."|| 

II.  Frequent  and  devout  converse  with  the  object  of  it. 

III.  Watchfulness  against  the  influence  of  those  objects  which  have 
a  fatal  tendency  to  eclipse  its  light,  to  obstruct  its  operations,  and  im- 
pair its  effects  :  namely,  sensual  pleasure,  eager  pursuit  of  the  world, 
intimate  converse  with  men  of  the  world. 


XXIV. 

ON    WISDOM. 

James  i.  5. — If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that  givetk 
to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not.^ 

Of  all  the  gifts  which  God  is  wont  to  dispense  to  the  children  of 
men,  the  most  valuable  is  wisdom.  Without  this,  the  advantages  we 
derive  from  every  other  are  precarious  and  transitory,  and  are  often 
more  than  overbalanced  by  the  evils  which  result  from  their  abuse. 
Wisdom  is  of  incomparable  value,  as  it  instructs  us  how  to  use  every 
other  good ;  how  to  turn  it  to  the  best  account,  and  make  it  most  sub- 
servient to  the  true  end  of  our  being.  The  Scriptures  extol  the  excel- 
lence of  wisdom  in  the  highest  terms : — "  Happy  is  the  man  that 
findeth  wisdom,  and  the  man  that  getteth  understanding :  For  the  mer- 
chandise of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandise  of  silver,  and  the  gain 
thereof  than  pure  gold.  She  is  more  precious  than  rubies :  and  all 
the  things  thou  canst  desire  are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her."** 

Wisdom  is  to  be  distinguished  from  knowledge  ;  to  which  it  bears 

*  John  XV.  7.  t  Gal.  v.  6.  +1  John  iU.  3.  ij  Rom.  iv.  20. 

11  Mark  ix.  24.  ir  Preached  in  June,  1811.  **  Prov.  lii.  13-15. 


122  ON  WISDOM. 

an  affinity,  but  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  it.  There  may  be  a 
large  compass  of  knowledge  acquired,  the  fruit  of  extensive  observation 
and  reading,  accompanied  with  a  quick  perception  and  a  capacious 
memory,  where  there  is  very  little  wisdom.  A  wretched  misconduct 
may  appear  at  the  same  [time]  a  series  of  imprudences,  thoughtless 
prodigality,  or  intemperance,  sufficient  to  invalidate  the  least  pretension 
to  wisdom.  They  are  far  more  knowing  than  wise  men.  Talents  of 
the  highest  order,  and  such  as  are  calculated  to  command  universal 
admiration,  may  exist  apart  from  wisdom.  Though  wisdom  necessa- 
rily presupposes  knowledge,  and  it  is  impossible  to  exercise  it  in  things 
of  wliich  we  are  ignorant,  yet  it  ought  to  be  something  more  practical, 
or  rather  more  comprehensive :  it  ever  bears  a  relation  to  the  end ; 
and,  in  proportion  as  it  is  perfect,  to  the  highest  and  last  end  the  agent 
can  be  supposed  to  have  in  view.  It  first  judges  of  the  end  fittest  to 
be  pursued,  and  next  determines  what  are  the  most  fitting  and  suitable 
means  of  accomplishing  it. 

Every  other  quality  besides  is  subordinate  and  inferior  to  wisdom,  in 
the  same  sense  as  the  mason  who  lays  the  bricks  and  stones  in  a 
building  is  inferior  to  the  architect  who  drew  the  plan  and  superintends 
the  work.  The  former  executes  only  what  the  latter  contrives  and 
directs.  Now,  it  is  the  prerogative  of  wisdom  to  preside  over  every 
inferior  principle,  to  regulate  ihe  exercise  of  every  power,  and  Jimlt 
the  indulgence  of  every  appetite,  as  shall  best  conduce  to  one  great 
end.  It  being  the  province  of  wisdom  to  preside,  it  sits  as  umpire  on 
fivery  difficulty,  and  so  gives  the  final  direction  and  control  to  all  the 
powers  of  our  nature.  Hence  it  is  entitled  to  be  considered  as  the  top 
and  summit  of  perfection.  It  belongs  to  wisdom  to  determine  when 
to  act  and  when  to  cease ;  when  to  reveal,  and  when  to  conceal  a 
matter ;  when  to  speak,  and  when  to  keep  silence ;  when  to  give,  and 
when  to  receive ;  in  short,  to  regulate  the  measure  of  all  things,  as 
well  as  to  determine  the  end,  and  provide  the  means  of  obtaining  the 
end,  pursued  in  every  deliberate  course  of  action. 

Every  particular  faculty  or  skill  besides  needs  to  derive  direction 
from  this  ;  they  are  all  quite  incapable  of  directing  themselves.  The 
art  of  navigation,  for  instance,  will  teach  us  to  steer  a  ship  across  the 
ocean,  but  it  will  never  teach  us  on  what  occasions  it  is  proper  to  take 
a  voyage.  The  art  of  war  will  instruct  us  how  to  marshal  an  army, 
or  to  figlit  a  battle,  to  the  greatest  advantage  ;  but  you  must  learn  from  a 
higher  school  when  it  is  fitting,  just,  and  proper  to  wage  war  or  to 
make  peace.  The  art  of  the  husbandman  is  to  sow  and  bring  to  ma- 
turity the  precious  fruits  of  the  earth  ;  it  belongs  to  another  skill  to 
regulate  their  consumpiion  by  a  regard  to  our  health,  fortune,  and  other 
circumstances. 

In  short,  there  is  no  faculty  we  can  exert,  no  species  of  skill  we 
can  apply,  but  requires  a  superintending  hand  ;  but  looks  up,  as  it  were, 
to  some  higher  principle,  as  a  maid  to  her  mistress,  for  direction:  and 
this  universal  superintendent  is  wisdom.* 

•  The  admirers  of  Cowpor  will,  on  rcadiiiK  the  above,  he  naturally  reminded  of  his  graphic  con- 
trast of  Knowledge  and  Wisdom,  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Task :— 


ON  WISDOM.  123 

To  carry  our  ideas  of  it  as  high  as  possible,  the  wise  man  traces  it 
up  to  its  fountain,  and  contemplates  it  as  it  subsists  in  the  breast  of 
Deity.  "  The  Lord  by  wisdom  hath  founded  the  earth ;  by  under- 
standing hath  he  established  the  heavens.  By  his  knowledge  the 
depths  are  broken  up,  and  the  clouds  drop  down  the  dew."* 

But  though  we  have  taken  occasion  to  speak  thus  far  of  wisdom  in 
general,  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  are  to  take  the  word  in  that  exten- 
sion in  the  passage  before  us.  If  we  turn  to  the  context,  we  shall 
find  St.  James  describing  the  happy  fruits  which  result  from  a  right 
temper  under  affliction  and  persecution.  This  epistle,  as  well  as  the 
two  epistles  of  Peter,  are  supposed  to  have  been  addressed  to  the  Jews 
under  circumstances  of  persecution.  St.  James  had  exhorted  Chris- 
tians to  count  it  all  joy  when  they  fall  into  divers  temptations  ;  knowing 
this,  that  the  trying  of  their  faith  workelh  patience.  "  But  let  patience 
have  her  perfect  work,  that  ye  may  be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting 
nothing."  He  then  adds,  "  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom"  (that  is,  the 
wisdom  necessary  to  suffer  right,  the  wisdom  included  in  a  right  and 
■becoming  temper  under  persecutions  and  trials),  "  let  him  ask  of  God." 

In  this  view,  the  wisdom  here  mentioned  may  be  considered  as  in- 
.cluding  two  things. 

L  A  knowledge  of  duty. 

A  clear  and  just  conception  of  what  was  duty  was  not  always  easily  at- 
lained.  A  season  of  persecution  for  righteousness'  sake  would  naturally 
be  productive,  in  many  cases,  of  great  difficulty  in  determining  how  to  act. 

"  When  they  persecute  you  in  one  city,"  said  our  Lord,  "  flee  ye  to 
another."  But  what  is  the  degree  of  danger,  what  the  [serious  ad- 
vance] of  the  approaching  storm,  that  will  exempt  flight  from  the  charge 
of  pusillanimity?  What  the  just  limits  between  a  temporizing  policy 
and  imprudent  rashness  ?  There  is,  doubtless,  a  just  limit  between 
wantonly  exposing  ourselves  to  danger,  and  a  cowardly  shrinking  from 
it ;  between  that  selfish  timidity  which  will  sacrifice  truth  to  safety, 
and  that  undistinguishing  fearlessness  which  will  prompt  us  "  to  cast 
pearls  before  swine,"  though  it  be  morally  certain  "•  they  will  turn 
again  and  rend  us." 

A  nice  discernment  of  the  true  path  of  duty  on  such  occasions  can 
only  be  acquired  by  divine  teaching. 

II.  The  wisdom  necessary  in  such  circumstances  includes  espe- 
cially a  right  temper  of  mind  towards  God  and  our  fellow-creatures. 

1.  Towards  God,  This  temper  very  much  consists  in  an  humble 
acquiescence  in  his  dispensations,  in  a  readiness  to  suffer  under  his 


"  Knowledge  and  Wisdom,  far  from  being  one, 
Have  ofttimes  no  connexion.     Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men  ; 
Wisdom  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge,  a  rude  unprofitable  mass, 
The  mere  materials  with  which  Wisdom  builds, 
Till  smooth'd,  and  sqiiar'd,  and  fitted  to  its  place, 
Does  but  encumber  whom  it  seems  to  enrich. 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learn'd  so  much ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more."— Ed. 

*  Prov.  iii.  19, 20. 


124  ON  WISDOM. 

hand,  and  in  his  cause.  It  is  one  thing  to  suffer  under  the  hand  of 
God  inevitable  calamities,  and  another  to  suffer  with  a  cheerful  resig- 
nation, with  a  full  and  unreserved  acquiescence  in  the  Divine  disposals, 
mixing  adoring  thoughts  of  the  wisdom  of  his  proceedings  and  the 
equity  of  his  dispensations,  saying,  from  the  heart,  with  our  blessed 
Lord,  "  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done ;"  "  Father,  glorify  thy  name." 
In  this,  and  in  every  other  instance,  the  conduct  of  our  Lord  furnishes 
us  with  a  perfect  example  of  that  wisdom  it  is  our  duty  to  implore  of 
God.  The  wisdom  that  bows  the  mind  to  submission  "  stays  it  upon 
God,"  and  fills  it  with  meekness  and  compassion,  while  we  "  commit 
ourselves  to  him  as  the  faithful  Creator,"  is  of  no  ordinary  kind — can 
be  procured  only  from  one  quarter. 

2.  This  includes  a  proper  temper  towards  our  fellow-creatures  :  and 
particularly  towards  the  authors  of  our  sufferings.  Nature,  left  to 
itself,  is  apt  to  break  out  into  resentment,  to  feel  exasperated  ;  and  the 
more  in  proportion  as  the  treatment  we  meet  with  is  unquestionably 
unreasonable  and  unjust. 

The  first  suggestion  of  nature  in  such  circumstances  is,  "  to  render 
evil  for  evil,"  to  wish  to  be  revenged,  and  to  retaliate  the  usage  we 
have  sustained.  Very  different  is  the  wisdom  that  is  from  above: 
which  teaches  "  if  our  enemy  be  hungry,  to  feed  him  ;  if  thirsty,  to  give 
him  drink  ;  and  thus  to  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his  head  :  that,  instead 
of  being  "overcome  of  evil,  we  may  overcome  evil  with  good."*  To 
look  upon  men,  however  injurious,  as  instruments  in  the  hand  of  a 
just  and  holy  God,  and  to  overlook  the  former  in  an  attention  to  the 
latter,  is  a  high  attainment  of  spiritual  wisdom  ;  like  David,  who,  when 
he  was  cursed  and  insulted  by  Shimei,  said,  "  Let  him  alone,  for  the 
Lord  hath  bidden  him ;  it  may  be  that  the  Lord  may  requite  me  good 
for  his  cursing  this  day."t 

While  we  feel  the  effects  of  their  malice,  to  forgive  it  freely  and 
sincerely,  and  to  pray  with  sincerity  that  it  may  not  be  laid  to  their 
charge,  not  to  permit  the  conduct  of  the  enemy  to  induce  a  forgetfulness 
of  what  belongs  to  him  as  a  creature  of  God,  and  a  partaker  of  the 
same  nature,  is  a  piece  of  wisdom  that  is  truly  godlike.  While  we 
are  assisted  by  divine  grace  to  bear  persecutions  and  afflictions  in  a 
right  spirit,  the  gracious  purpose  of  God  in  permitting  them  advances 
towards  its  completion ;  the  process  goes  on  without  disturbance ;  the 
sanctifying  tendency  of  it  continues  unchecked  ;  patience  has  its  per- 
fect work  ;  in  order  to  our  being  "  perfect  and  entire,  lacking  nothing." 
Repining  and  impatience  tend  eminently  to  frustrate  the  [merciliil] 
intentions  of  Providence  in  our  affliction  ;  while  the  composure  of  a 
well-regulated  mind — of  a  mind  stayed  upon  God,  gives  them  an  op- 
portunity of  working  their  full  effect.  And  on  this  account  a  suitable 
temper  in  a  season  of  persecution  and  trial  may  justly  be  denominated 
an  important  branch  of  wisdom.  Though  the  apostle  had,  in  enjoining 
the  duty  before  us,  an  especial  view  to  the  case  of  persecution,  yet 
this  is  by  no  means  the  only  case  to  which  the  advice  is  applicable. 
The  occasions  in  which  we  lack  wisdom  are  very  numerous :  in  each 
,of  them  it  will  behoove  us  to  ask  it  of  God. 

•  Rom.  xii.  20,  21.  f  2  Sam.  xvi.  11,  12. 


ON  ENGAGEDNESS  OF  HEART.  125 

We  are  continually  liable  to  difficulties  and  sorrows,  from  which 
nothing  but  a  superior  skill  to  our  own  can  extricate  us  :  "  The  way 
of  man  is  not  in  himself:  it  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his 
steps."*  Are  we  at  a  loss  in  present  circumstances  to  descry  the 
path  of  duty  and  safety,  when  our  way  appears  to  be  hedged  in  on 
every  side ;  is  darkness  set  in  our  paths,  and  we  know  not  how  to 
proceed  ? — "  Let  us  ask  wisdom  of  God."  Do  we  feel  ourselves 
habitually  overpowered  by  the  force  of  temptation ;  do  we  feel  evil 
present  with  us,  or  are  we  in  danger  of  being  carried  [along]  by  the 
[violence]  of  our  sensual  appetites,  against  which  we  have  hitherto 
struggled  in  vain  ? — [Let  us  ask  wisdom  of  God.] 

Enforce  the  exliortation  of  seeking  it  of  God  in  the  following  con- 
siderations : — 

L  As  it  is  of  indispensable  necessity,  so  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  it 
elsewhere. 

IL  It  resides  in  him  in  its  utmost  perfection. 

in.  He  is  willing  to  communicate  :  "  For  the  Lord  giveth  wisdom  : 
out  of  his  mouth  cometh  knowledge  and  understanding.  He  layeth 
up  sound  wisdom  for  the  righteous."!  "  Giveth  liberally,"  in\s,s,  with 
a  liberal  mind,  bountifully. 

The  caution, — "  nothing  doubting." 


XXV. 

ON  ENGAGEDNESS  OF  HEART  IN  APPROACHING 
UNTO  GOD. 

Jeremiah  xxx.  21. — For  who  is  this  that  engaged  his  heart  to  approach 
unto  me  ?  saith  the  Lord. 

In  this  chapter  is  contained  an  illustrious  prophecy  of  the  restoration 
of  the  ancient  Israelites  to  their  own  land ;  first,  from  their  captivity 
in  Babylon,  whither  a  part  of  the  nation  were  already,  and  the  remainder 
were  shortly  to  be  removed  ;  next,  from  their  long  captivity  and  dis 
persion  through  all  the  countries  of  the  earth,  which  has  now  subsisted 
for  near  eighteen  hundred  years.  As  a  standing  record  of  the  faithful- 
ness of  God  to  his  promises,  as  well  as  his  infallible  foreknowledge 
of  all  events,  the  prophet  is  commanded  to  commit  to  writing  all  the 
words  which  God  had  spoken  to  him  during  the  whole  time  he  had 
exercised  the  prophetic  office. 

Those  who  had  presumed  to  speak  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  without 
being  commissioned,  had  flattered  the  people  with  the  assurances  that 
the  residue  of  the  people  should  not  be  carried  into  Babylon,  and  that 
the  part  of  the  nation  which  were  already  sent  thither  should  speedily 
be  restored  to  their  native  country.     In  opposition  to  these  false  sug- 

*  Jer.  X.  23.  t  Prov.  il.  6,  7. 


126  ON  ENGAGEDNESS  OF  HEART 

gestions,  Jeremiah  was  commanded  to  send  a  message  to  the  captives 
in  Babylon,  saying,  "  Build  ye  houses  in  Babylon,  and  dwell  in  them  ; 
and  plant  gardens,  and  eat  the  fruit  of  them  ;  take  ye  wives,  and  beget 
sons  and  daughters  ;  and  take  wives  for  your  sons."*  In  that  message 
he  delivered  the  famous  prediction  respecting  the  precise  time  of  the 
duration  of  their  captivity,  which  he  limits  to  seventy  years,  and  the 
study  of  which  enabled  Daniel  to  perceive  its  approaching  termination. 
"  In  the  first  year  of  his  reign  {i.  e.  of  Darius),  I  Daniel  understood  by 
books  the  number  of  the  years  whereof  the  w^ord  of  the  Lord  came  to 
Jeremiah  the  prophet,  that  he  would  accomplish  seventy  years  in  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem."! 

As  a  part  of  the  distinguishing  favours  which  God  said  he  had  in 
reserve  for  the  people,  he  promises  that  at  their  restoration  the  op- 
pression of  a  foreign  yoke  should  be  broken,  and  they  should  be  again 
ruled  by  princes  of  their  own  race,  agreeable  to  the  language  of  Isaiah 
respecting  the  same  event ;  when  the  people  shall  first  be  purified  and 
reformed  by  divine  chastisement,  and  afterward  reinstated  in  a  happy 
and  prosperous  condition.  "  And  I  will  turn  my  hand  upon  thee,  and 
purely  purge  away  thy  dross,  and  take  away  all  thy  tin  :  and  I  will 
restore  thy  judges  as  at  the  first,  and  thy  counsellors  as  at  the  be- 
ginning :  afterward  thou  shall  be  called  the  city  of  righteousness,  the 
faithful  city.  Zion  shall  be  redeemed  with  judgment,  and  her  converts 
with  righteousness."!  It  is  not  only  foretold  that  a  native  governor 
should  be  set  over  the  house  of  Israel,  but  that  he  should  be  distin- 
guished for  his  piety.   "  The  Lord  will  cause  him  to  draw  nigh  unto  him." 

The  words  of  the  text  may  be  considered  in  three  points  of  view. 

I.  As  descriptive  of  the  character  of  Zerubbabel,  they  were  accom- 
plished in  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  after  the  seventy  years'  captivity ,^ 
when  a  governor  was  appointed  over  them  named  Zerubbabel,  the  son 
of  Shealtiel,  the  great  grandson  of  Jehoiachim.  He  was  a  person 
eminently  devoted  to  God,  who  exerted  himself  with  much  zeal  in 
rebuilding  the  altar  and  the  temple,  and  establishing  the  worship  of 
God.  Under  his  auspices  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  were  renewed, 
after  a  cessation  of  seventy  years.  The  feast  of  tabernacles  was 
established  in  the  seventh  month.  Masons  and  builders  were  hired 
from  Sidon  to  assist  in  erecting  the  temple,  the  foundation  of  which  was 
laid  amid  confused  expressions  of  joy  and  lamentation :  joy  on  the 
part  of  the  young  men  at  witnessing  the  house  of  God  rising  up  from 
its  ruins ;  and  lamentation  on  the  part  of  the  old,  who  had  beheld  the 
superior  glory  of  the  former.^ 

When  the  adversaries  of  .Tudah  and  Benjamin,  envying  their  pros- 
perity, hired  counsellors  against  them,  and  procured  an  order  from  the 
King  of  Persia  to  put  a  stop  to  the  work,  it  was  of  necessity  suspended 
for  a  while ;  but  he  lost  no  lime  in  resuming  it  at  the  first  opportunity, 
till  it  was  completed  in  the  sixth  year  of  Darius  Hystaspes.  A  feast 
of  dedication  was  kept  on  this  joyful  occasion,  and  afterward  the  feast 
of  the  passover  was  celebrated  on  the  fourteenth  of  the  first  month, 

•  Jer.  xsix.  5,  6.         1  Dan.  ix.  3.  ;  Isa,  j.  25-27.  $  See  Ezra  iii.  11-J3. 


IN  APPROACHING  UNTO  GOD.  127 

with  great  joy,  as  Ezra  observes  :  "  The  Lord  made  them  joyful,  and 
turned  the  heart  of  the  King  of  Assyria  unto  them,  to  strengthen  their 
hands  in  the  work  of  the  house  of  God,  the  God  of  Israel."* 

He  and  Joshua  the  high-priest  were  represented  iii  the  visions  of 
Zechariah  as  the  two  candlesticks  supplied  through  pipes  from  olive- 
trees,  to  indicate  the  plenitude  of  that  juice  with  which  they  were 
endued,  which  is  thus  explained  by  the  angel : — "  Then  said  he.  These 
are  the  two  anointed  ones,  that  stand  by  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth."t 
The  difficulties  attending  the  work,  which  were  very  great  in  themselves, 
were  extremely  heightened  by  the  malice  and  opposition  of  the  enemies 
of  God,  particularly  of  the  Samaritans ;  but  the  strength  and  fortitude 
with  which  he  was  endowed  from  on  high  enabled  him  to  surmount 
them.  "  Who  art  thou,  O  great  mountain  ?"  said  the  prophet ;  "  before 
Zerubbabel  thou  shalt  become  a  plain.  Moreover,  the  word  of  the  Lord 
came  unto  me,  saying.  The  hands  of  Zerubbabel  have  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  this  house  ;  his  hands  also  shall  finish  it ;  and  thou  shalt  know 
that  the  Lord  of  hosts  hath  sent  me  unto  you."| 

II.  The  words  of  the  text  admit  of  being  applied,  with  the  greatest 
propriety,  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  The  prophecy  contained  in  the 
thirtieth  and  thirty-first  chapters  looks  forward  to  gospel  times,  and  has 
an  ultimate  respect  to  the  final  restoration  of  the  Jews,  and  their  con- 
version to  the  Messiah,  of  whom  Zerubbabel  was  an  illustrious  type. 
The  prophet  was  wont,  in  connexion  with  the  assurances  of  divine 
favour  to  the  Israelites,  in  restoring  their  temple  after  the  captivity,  to 
mix  predictions  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah : — "  Thus  speaketh  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  saying.  Behold  the  man  whose  name  is  The  Branch ; 
and  he  shall  grow  up  out  of  his  place,  and  he  shall  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord  :  even  he  shall  build  the  temple  of  the  Lord  ;  and  he  shall 
bear  the  glory,  and  shall  sit  and  rule  upon  his  throne  ;  and  he  shall  be 
a  priest  upon  his  throne  ;  and  the  counsel  of  peace  shall  be  between 
them  both-''^^! 

The  prophet,  foreseeing  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  and  descrying 
his  character,  spake  with  an  air  of  surprise :  "  And  who  is  he  that  has 
engaged  his  heart  to  approach  unto  God  V  None  ever  approached 
unto  God  so  nearly,  or  under  the  same  character,  as  he  did.  He, 
considered  as  man,  was  taken  into  an  intimate  personal  union  with  the 
Deity,  so  as  to  become  Immanuel,  or  "  God  with  us  ;"||  and  he  ap- 
proached to  God,  in  the  office  of  a  Mediator,  to  make  peace  between 
the  offended  Majesty  of  Heaven  and  his  sinful  creatures.  He  came, 
like  Aaron,  with  incense,  between  the  living  and  the  dead,  to  stay  the 
plague,  and  arrest  divine  vengeance  in  its  career.  He  approached  unto 
God  in  our  behalf,  not  with  the  trembling  diftidence  of  a  sinful  mortal, 
who  is  conscious  of  his  own  danger  and  demerits,  but  with  the  holy, 
becoming  boldness  of  a  son  to  a  father.  He  interposed  with  precious 
blood ;  and,  on  the  ground  of  the  stipulations  which  intervene  between 
him  and  the  Father,  claims  his  church  as  his  purchase,  and  asserts  his 
authority  to  save  them  "  with  an  everlasting  salvation  ;"  "  Deliver  him 

♦  Ezra  vi._22.        t  Zech.  iv.  14.        t  Zech.  iv.  7-9.        ^  Zech.  vi.  12, 13.        ||  Isaiah  vtl.  14. 


128  ON  ENGAGEDNESS  OF  HEART 

from  going  down  to  the  pit ;  I  have  found  a  ransom."*  He  made  his 
approach  to  God  by  a  vicarious  sacrifice  and  spotless  obedience,  by 
enduring  the  awful  penalty  denounced  on  transgressors ;  and  by 
magnifying  the  law  made  it  honourable. 

His  heart  was  also  ineflably  engaged  in  this  work.  None  ever 
exhibited  such  a  concern  for  the  divine  honour,  such  a  zeal  for  the 
divine  interests,  as  was  exemplified  by  our  blessed  Lord.  "  Sacrifice 
and  offering  thou  didst  not  desire :  in  burnt-oftering  and  sin-oftering 
thou  hadst  no  pleasure.  Then  I  said.  To  do  thy  will,  O  God,  I  come  ; 
thy  law  is  in  my  heart."! 

Nor  was  he  deterred  by  the  greatest  discouragements,  nor  dismayed 
by  the  greatest  opposition,  nor  by  the  certain  prospect  of  the  most 
dismal  sufferings,  so  as  to  desist  from  persevering  in  his  undertaking 
till  it  was  completed.  He  did  not  "  fail,  nor  was  discouraged,  till  he 
had  set  judgment  in  the  earth." 

Animated  by  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  "  he  endured  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame." 

If  we  look  through  all  the  scenes  and  passages  of  his  life,  we  shall 
find  him  incessantly  engaged  in  his  Father's  business,  with  an  utter 
contempt  of  the  world,  and  a  perfect  absorption  of  mind  in  the  great 
and  holy  objects  he  came  to  accomplish.  He  never  for  a  moment 
lost  sight  of  the  ends  of  his  mission,  nor  ever  suffered  his  attention  to 
be  diverted  from  them  by  the  love  of  ease,  the  fascination  of  pleasure, 
or  the  terrors  of  death.  His  disciples,  who  were  the  daily  witnesses 
of  his  actions,  were  compelled  to  apply  to  him  a  remarkable  expression 
in  the  prophetic  part  of  the  Psalms — "  The  zeal  of  thine  house  hath 
eaten  me  up. "J 

HI.  We  may  consider  the  passage  before  us  as  highly  expressive 
of  the  true  manner  in  which  the  service  of  God  must  be  undertaken, 
if  we  would  render  it  acceptable  to  him,  or  useful  to  ourselves. 

Among  the  heathen,  it  was  usual  to  form  a  conjecture  of  the  good 
or  the  ill  success  of  application  to  their  deities  from  the  state  in 
which  the  entrails  of  the  victim  were  found  ;  and  nothing  was  considered 
as  a  more  fatal  omen  than  its  wanting  a  heart.  Their  worship,  we 
are  well  aware,  was  folly  and  delusion  ;  but  in  this  instance  it  may 
serve  to  illustrate  the  subject  before  us,  which  is,  the  absolute  necessity 
of  the  heart  being  engaged  in  religion. 

By  the  heart  the  Scriptures  generally  intend  the  innermost  and  the 
noblest  powers  of  the  mind,  in  opposition  to  external  actions  of  the 
body.  It  denotes  deliberate  choice,  understanding,  and  feeling,  as 
distinguished  from  the  semblance  of  devotion,  consisting  in  a  compliance 
with  its  visible  forms  and  regulations.  As  the  heart  has  usually 
(whether  justly  or  not  it  is  not  necessary  to  inquire)  been  looked  upon 
as  the  seat  of  feeling, — in  like  manner  as  the  brain  has  been  supposed 
to  be  the  chief  organ  of  thought, — it  has  been,  by  an  easy  metaphor, 
employed  to  denote  that  faculty  of  the  soul  by  which  we  perceive 
what  appears  desirable,  and  cleave  to  what  aflibrdsus  satisfaction,  and 

*  Job  xxxiii.  24.  t  Psalm  xl.  6-8.  t  Psalm  Ixix.  0. 


In  approaching  unto  god.  129' 

taste  the  delight  which  certain  objects  are  adapted  to  afford.     This  is 
a  n7ost  essential  part  of  religion  ;  here  is  its  proper  seat. 

1.  It  implies  a!  preparation  of  heart  for  religious  duties.  Ezra 
"  prepared  his  heart  to  seek  the  law  of  the  Lord  and  to  do  it,"  to  dis- 
engage his  mind  from  vain  imaginations,  from  worldly  thoughts,  from 
every  thing,  in  short,  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  religion.  By  a  diligent 
perusal  of  a  portion  of  the  word  of  God,  we  are  prepared  to  approach 
him ;  by  hearing  him  when  he  speaks  to  us,  we  are  fitted  to  speak 
to  him. 

He  who  rushes  into  the  presence  of  the  Most  High  without  solemn 
deliberation,  without  reflecting  on  the  weighty  and  serious  nature  of 
such  an  undertaking,  can  with  little  propriety  be  said  to  have  "  engaged 
his  heart." 

2.  It  includes  the  exercise  of  suitable  affections  in  the  services  of 
religion,  the  being  susceptible  of  such  sentiments  and  dispositions  as 
are  correspondent  to  the  universal  object  of  worship,  as  well  as  to  the 
diversified  circumstances  in  which  [we  are  placed  ]  Love,  reverence, 
and  trust,  a  profound  sense  of  our  own  meanness  and  pollution,  belong 
universally  to  every  approach  to  God.  While  these  dispositions,  in 
truly  pious  souls,  will  receive  a  colour  and  complexion  from  their 
peculiar  condition, — according  as  it  is  a  condition  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of 
sensible  consolation  or  of  desertion,  is  depressed  with  a  consciousness 
of  guilt  or  exhilarated  with  a  sense  of  pardon, — the  soul  sometimes, 
with  little  reflection  on  its  own  state,  will  be  taken  up  with  adoring 
views  of  the  Divine  glory,  delightfully  losing  itself  in  the  vivid  contem- 
plation of  the  great  All  in  All.  At  other  times  it  will  be  occupied 
with  an  affecting  view  of  the  conduct  of  God  towards  it  in  providence 
and  grace.  "  We  thought  of  thy  loving-kindness  in  the  midst  of  thy 
temple."*  There  are  seasons  again,  when,  under  burdens  of  guilt  and 
distress,  it  will  be  incessantly  stirring  itself  up  to  take  hold  upon  God. 
"  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  Lord :  my  soul  is  bowed  down  within  me  ; 
my  wounds  stink  and  are  corrupt  because  of  my  foolishness."! 

In  such  circumstances  the  pious  soul  will  resemble  Jacob,  who 
wrestled  with  the  angel,  wept,  and  made  supplication.  In  all  these 
various  exercises  the  heart  will  be  engaged,  in  approaching  to  God : 
the  heart  will  be  mingled  with  it,  as  the  expression  signifies. 

3.  It  includes  constancy  and  unshaken  firmness,  steadfastness  of 
resolution  to  cleave  to  God.  "  I  have  sworn,"  says  David,  "  and  I 
will  perform  it,  that  I  will  keep  thy  righteous  judgments.  I  have 
inclined  my  heart  to  perform  thy  statutes  always,  even  unto  the  end." 

Contrast  this  with  the  conduct  of  the  children  of  Israel  at  the  Red 
Sea,  and  with  Saul. 


Vol.  III.—I 


Psalm  xlviii.  9,  |  Psalm  vi.  2  ;  xxxvUi.  5,  6, 


130  ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

XXVI. 

ox  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

Chrox.  xvi.  43. — And  all  the  people  departed,  every  7nan  to  kis  house: 
and  David  returned  to  bless  his  house. 

Public  exercises  of  religion,  when  properly  conducted,  have  a  happy 
tendency  to  prepare  the  mind  for  those  of  a  more  private  nature. 
When  the  soul  is  elevated  and  the  heart  softened  by  the  feelings  which 
public  worship  is  calculated  to  inspire,  we  are  prepared  to  address  the 
throne  of  Grace  with  peculiar  advantage ;  we  are  disposed  to  enter 
with  a  proper  relish  on  such  a  duty,  and  thus  "  go  from  strength  to 
strength."  David,  at  the  time  to  which  this  passage  refers,  had 
been  assisting  at  a  great  and  joyful  solemnity,  that  of  bringing  the  ark 
of  God  from  the  house  of  Obed-edom,  v.here  it  had  abode  three  inonths, 
to  the  place  which  he  had  prepared  for  it.  The  joy  which  David  felt 
on  this  interesting  occasion  was  very  rapturous.  He  conducted  it  to 
Jerusalem,  and  set  it  in  the  midst  of  the  tent  he  had  pitched  for  it. 
He  offered,  as  a  testimony  of  his  zeal  and  devotion,  burnt-offerings 
and  sacrifices  to  God,  and  then  closed  the  solemnity. 

We  need  be  at  no  loss  to  ascertain  the  import  of  this  expression. 
It  undoubtedly  signifies  his  imploring  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his 
people  by  prayer  and  supplication.  Under  the  ancient  law,  God  was 
pleased  to  appoint  a  form  in  which  Aaron  the  high-priest  was  com- 
manded to  bless  the  people.  "  On  this  wise  ye  shall  bless  the  children 
of  Israel,  saying  unto  them.  The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee :  the 
Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee  :  the 
Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace."* 

This  instructs  us  how  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  "  David's 
returning  to  bless  his  house  ;"  it  was  to  present  them  to  God  in  prayer, 
and  entreat  his  blessing  upon  them. 

I  shall  take  occasion  from  these  words  to  urge  upon  you  the  duty 
of  family  prayer;  a  duty,  I  fear,  too  much  neglected  among  us, 
though  it  is  one  of  high  importance  and  indispensable  obligation.  In 
bringing  this  subject  before  you,  I  shall,  first,  attempt  to  show  the  solid 
reasons  on  which  it  is  founded  ;  and,  secondly,  endeavour,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  to  suggest  a  few  hints  respecting  the  best  method  of 
performing  it. 

1.  The  passage  before  us  invites  us  to  consider  it  as  a  practice  by 
which  good  men  have  been  distinguished  in  every  age. 

It  pleads  the  sanction  of  the  highest  example.  It  was  exemplified, 
we  see,  in  the  conduct  of  David,  "  the  sweet  psalmist  of  Israel,"  "  the 
man  after  God's  own  heart  ;"  a  great  victorious  prince,  who  did  not 
suppose  the  cares  of  royalty  a  sufficient  reason  for  neglecting  it.  In 
the   various  removals  of  Abraham  from  place  to  place,  we  find  that 

*  Num.  vi.  23-26. 


ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP.  131 

\vherever  he  came  to  sojourn  he  built  an  altar,  to  call  upon  the  name 
of  the  Lord  :  an  altar  at  which,  there  is  the  greatest  reason  to  believe, 
he  was  wont  to  assemble  his  family,  and  to  present  his  addresses  on 
their,  as  well  as  his  own,  behall'.  We  know,  from  the  testimony  of 
Scripture,  that  he  was  eminently  conspicuous  for  the  care  he  took  of 
the  religious  instruction  of  his  household.  This  part  of  his  character 
is  attested  in  the  following  emphatic  manner :  "  For  I  know  him,  tha-t 
he  will  command  his  children  and  his  household  after  him,  and  thev 
shall  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment ;  that  I 
may  bring  upon  Abraham  that  which  I  have  spoken  of  him."* 

But  wherein,  we  may  safely  ask,  was  this  solicitude  for  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  his  household  displayed,  if  he  never  bowed  the  knee  before 
them  in  prayer ;  never  exemplified  before  their  eyes  so  important  a 
duty  as  that  of  devout  supplication  to  the  Almighty  1 

In  the  history  of  Isaac  we  read  of  his  building  an  altar  at  Beei-sheba, 
and  calling  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Such  also  was  the  custom 
of  Jacob  at  the  diiferent  places  wliere  he  fixed  his  habitation.  On  one 
of  these  occasions  we  find  him  thus  addressing  his  household :  "  Put 
away  the  strange  gods  that  are  among  you,  and  be  clean,  and  change 
your  garments  ;  and  let  us  arise  and  go  up  to  Bethel ;  and  I  will  make 
there  an  altar  unto  God,  who  answered  me  in  the  day  of  my  distress, 
and  was  with  me  in  the  way  which  I  went."t 

Thus  ancient  is  the  practice  on  which  we  are  now  insisting.  It 
appears  to  have  formed  a  prominent  part  of  the  religion  of  patriarchal 
times,  and  it  has  subsisted  in  every  period  of  the  Christian  church. 

In  later  ages,  who  among  the  devoted  servants  of  Christ  can  be 
mentioned  who  have  neglected  it  ?  The  pious  reformers,  the  venerable 
founders  of  the  Established  Church  of  England,  we  know,  conscien- 
tiously practised  and  earnestly  enforced  it  ;  and  so  did  our  pious  fore- 
fathers  among  the  nonconformists.  This  was  a  branch  of  their 
conduct  for  which  they  incurred  the  ridicule  of  a  careless  and  ungodly 
world ;  and  in  their  days  it  was  ever  recognised  as  an  inseparable? 
appendage  of  true  piety.  They  would  have  required  no  further  proof 
of  the  absence  of  the  fear  of  God  in  a  family  than  the  Avant  of  a  domestic 
altar,  at  which  its  members  might  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

2.  Family  prayer  is  a  natural  and  necessary  acknowledgment  of 
the  dependence  of  families  upon  God,  and  of  the  innumerable  obUga- 
tions  they  are  under  to  his  goodness.  The  union  of  mankind  in 
families  is  ascribed  to  God,  and  is  a  distinguished  [mark]  of  his  lovmg- 
kindness.  "  He  setteth  the  solitary  in  families."!  "  He  maketh  the 
barren  woman  to  keep  house,  and  to  be  a  joyful  mother  of  children."^ 
Tlie  ties  of  domestic  society  are  of  his  forming :  the  birth  and  pres- 
ervation of  children  are  eminent  instances  of  his  favour  and  beneficence. 
It  is  surely  incumbent  on  families,  then,  to  acknawledge  him  in  their 
domestic  relation. 

Every  family  is  a  separate  community,  placed  under  one  head,  aixd 
governed  by  laws  independent  of  foreign  control.  This  sort  of  society 
is  the  root  and  origin  of  every  other ;  and  as  it  is  the  most  ancient,  so 

*Gen.xviii.  )9.  f  Oen.  xxxv.  2,  3.  t  Psalm  Ixviii.  6.  <SPsalmcxui.9. 

12 


132  ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

it  is  bound  together  by  ties  [the  most]  tender  and  sacred.  Every  other 
social  bond  in  which  men  are  united  is  loose  and  incidental,  compared 
to  that  which  unites  the  members  of  the  same  family. 

On  what,  let  me  ask,  does  the  obligation  of  social  worship  rest  ?  Is 
it  not  in  the  social  nature  by  which  man  is  distinguished  ?  It  is  because 
we  are  destined  to  live  in  society,  and  are  bound  together  by  mutual 
wants  and  sympathies,  that  it  becomes  a  duty  to  w^orship  the  Creator 
in  a  social  manner.  Man  being  essentially  a  social  creature,  his  reli- 
gion takes  the  form  of  his  nature,  and  becomes  social. 

Supposing  the  justice  of  these  observations  to  be  admitted,  they 
conclude  with  the  greatest  force  in  favour  of  the  obligation  of  family 
worship.  Does  the  duty  of  social  worship  result  from  man's  being 
placed  in  society  1  Here  is  the  closest  and  most  intimate  society.  Is 
it  right  that  mercies  received  in  common  shall  be  publicly  acknow- 
ledged ;  that  the  interposition  of  Divine  goodness  we  in  common  want 
should  be  implored  in  company  with  each  other?  Here  is  a  perfect 
identity  of  wants  and  necessities;  a  closer  conjunction  of  interests 
than  can  possibly  subsist  in  any  other  situation.  In  an  affectionate 
and  well-ordered  family,  that  quick  sympathy  is  felt  which  pervades 
the  members  of  the  body  :  if  one  member  suffer,  all  suffer  with  it ;  or 
if  one  member  be  honoured,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it. 

No  earthly  blessmg  can  befall  the  head  of  a  family  in  which  its 
members  do  not  share  the  benefit :  no  calamity  can  befall  him  whhout 
spreading  sadness  and  distress  through  the  household.  Whatever  is 
suffered,  or  whatever  is  enjoyed,  extends  its  influence  through  the 
whole  circle.  Whoever,  consequently,  reflects  on  the  true  foundation 
of  social  worship  must  perceive  that  the  arguments  which  evince  its 
propriety  apply  to  the  worship  of  families  with  still  greater  cogency, 
in  proportion  as  the  ties  of  domestic  union  are  more  close  and  intimate 
than  all  others.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  conceive  of  two  individuals 
who  are  actuated  by  a  principle  of  true  religion,  passing  years  together 
under  the  same  roof  without  uniting  in  their  addresses  to  a  throne  of 
Grace.  We  feel  a  persuasion  that  two  such  individuals,  though  nowise 
related  to  each  other,  will  be  led  to  signalize  their  union  by  acts  of 
social  piety,  and  that  as  they  must  often  "  hold  sweet  counsel  together," 
so  they  will  frequently  be  disposed  to  pour  out  their  united  supplications 
to  God. 

How  much  more  may  this  be  expected  to  take  place  between  those 
who  are  united  in  the  close  relation  of  husbands  and  wives,  parents 
and  children  !  It  most  assuredly  will,  unless  that  ingredient  in  the 
character  be  wanting  which  in  the  former  instance  was  supposed, — a 
principle  of  real  piety.  Thus  we  perceive  that  family  religion  is  the 
natural  result  of  the  social  nature  of  man,  when  sanctified  by  Divine 
grace ;  that  it  is,  in  truth,  a  most  important  branch  of  social  religion. 
Viewed  in  that  lijjht,  it  is  cloarly  comprehended  within  the  extent  of 
the  injunction,  of  "  praying  always  with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in 
the  Spirit,  and  watching  thereunto  with  all  perseverance."* 

3.  The  duty  we  are  recommending  is  enforced  by  its  tendency, 

♦  Eph.  vi.  1& 


ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP.  133 

under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  form  the  minds  of  children  and  servants 
to  the  love  and  practice  of  religion.  On  those  persons,  if  there  be  any- 
such  present,  who  look  upon  religion  to  be  a  delusive  fancy,  instead 
of  the  most  important  concern  in  the  world,  we  despair  of  making  any 
impression  in  this  discourse :  but  with  those  who  believe  it  to  be  the 
one  thing  needful,  the  consideration  now  mentioned  will  have  consider- 
able weight. 

Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  whatever  we  wish  others  to  prac- 
tise, we  must  exemplify  in  our  conduct  as  well  as  enjoin.  The  truth 
of  this  observation  extends  to  every  branch  of  conduct  without  excep- 
tion. Would  we  wish  to  impress  on  young  persons  a  sound  regard  to 
veracity  ?  we  must  maintain  a  strict  regard  to  it  in  our  own  intercourse 
whh  mankind.  Are  we  desirous  to  train  up  our  families  in  the  obser- 
vation of  the  rules  of  justice?  we  must  take  care  to  signalize  our 
attachment  to  it  by  exemplary  uprightness  in  our  own  behaviour.  In 
every  department  of  moral  and  religious  conduct,  we  must  not  only 
point  out  the  path,  but  lead  the  way.  The  application  of  this  remark 
to  the  subject  in  hand  is  extremely  obvious.  Your  wish,  we  take  it 
for  granted,  is  to  train  up  your  children  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and,  as 
a  necessary  [branch]  of  this,  in  the  practice  of  prayer.  Is  it  likely 
you  will  succeed  in  that  wish  while  you  neglect  to  afford  them  an 
example  of  what  you  wish  them  to  practise  ?  What,  under  the  bless- 
ing of  Divine  grace,  is  so  calculated  to  impress  them  with  a  conviction 
of  the  importance  of  prayer,  as  the  being  called  at  stated  intervals  to 
lake  part  in  your  devout  supplications  to  God  ?  While  they  witness 
your  constancy,  assiduity,  and  fervour  in  this  exercise,  they  cannot 
fail  of  acknowledging  its  importance,  without  avowing  a  contempt  of 
parental  example. 

A  household  in  which  family  prayer  is  devoutly  attended  to,  con- 
joined with  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  is  a  school  of  religious 
instruction.  The  whole  contents  of  the  sacred  volume  are  in  due 
course  laid  open  before  them.  They  are  continually  reminded  of 
their  relation  to  God  and  the  Redeemer,  of  their  sins  and  their  wants, 
and  of  the  method  they  must  take  to  procure  pardon  for  the  one  and 
the  relief  of  the  other.  Every  day  they  are  receiving  "  line  upon  line, 
and  precept  upon  precept."  A  fresh  accession  is  continually  making 
to  their  stock  of  knowledge  ;  new  truths  are  gradually  opened  to  their 
view,  and  the  impressions  of  old  truths  revived.  A  judicious  parent 
will  naturally  notice  the  most  striking  incidents  in  his  family  in  his 
devotional  addresses ;  such  as  the  sickness,  or  death,  or  removal  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  time,  of  the  members  of  which  it  is  composed.  His 
addresses  will  be  varied  according  to  circumstances.  Has  a  pleasing 
event  spread  joy  and  cheerfulness  through  the  household  ?  it  will  be 
noticed  with  becoming  expressions  of  fervent  gratitude.  Has  some 
calamity  overwhelmed  the  domestic  circle  1  it  will  give  occasion  to  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  Divine  equity ;  the  justice  of  God's  proceed- 
ings will  be  vindicated,  and  grace  implored  through  the  blood  of  the 
Redeemer  to  sustain  and  sanctify  the  stroke. 

AVhen  the  most  powerful  feelings  and  the  most  interesting  circum- 


184  OX  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

stances  ure  thus  connected  witli  religion,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
hope  that,  through  Divine  grace,  some  lasting  and  useful  impressions 
will  be  made.  Is  not  some  part  of  the  good  seed  thus  sown,  and  thus 
nurtured,  likely  to  take  root  and  to  become  fruitful  1  Deeply  as  we 
are  convinced  of  the  deplorable  corruption  of  the  human  heart,  and  the 
necessity,  consequent  on  this,  of  divine  agency  to  accomplish  a  saving 
purpose,  we  must  not  forget  that  God  is  accustomed  to  work  by 
means ;  and  surely  none  can  be  conceived  more  likely  to  meet  the 
end.  What  can  be  so  likely  to  impress  a  child  with  a  dread  of  sin, 
as  to  hear  his  parent  constantly  deprecating  the  wrath  of  God  as  justly 
due  to  it ;  or  to  induce  him  to  seek  an  interest  in  the  mediation  and 
intercession  of  the  Saviour,  as  to  hear  him  imploring  it  for  him,  day  by 
day,  with  an  importunity  proportioned  to  the  magnitude  of  the  subject  ? 
By  a  daily  attention  on  such  exercises,  children  and  servants  are 
taught  most  effectually  how  to  pray :  suitable  topics  are  suggested 
to  their  minds  ;  suitable  petitions  are  put  into  their  mouths  ;  while 
their  growing  acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures  furnishes  the  argu- 
ments by  which  they  may  "  plead  with  God." 

May  I  not  appeal  to  you  who  have  enjoyed  the  blessing  of  being 
trained  up  under  religious  parents,  whether  you  do  not  often  recall 
with  solemn  tenderness  wliat  you  felt  in  domestic  worship  ;  how 
amiable  your  parent  appeared  interceding  for  you  with  God  ?  His 
character  appeared  at  such  seasons  doubly  sacred,  while  you  beheld 
in  him,  not  only  the  father,  but  the  priest  over  his  household ;  invested, 
not  only  with  parental  authority,  but  with  the  beauty  of  holiness. 

Where  a  principle  of  religion  is  not  yet  planted  in  the  hearts  of  the 
young,  family  prayer,  accompanied  with  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures, 
is,  with  the  Divine  blessing,  the  most  likely  means  of  introducing  it. 
W' here  it  already  subsists,  it  is  admirably  adapted  to  cherish,  strengthen, 
and  advance  it  to  maturity  :  in  the  latter  case  it  is  like  the  morning  and 
the  evening  dew  at  the  root  of  the  tender  blade. 

On  the  contrary,  when  there  is  no  public  acknowledgment  of  God 
in  a  family,  nothhig  can  be  expected  but  that  children  and  servants 
should  grow  up  ignorant  and  careless  of  their  highest  concerns.  You 
may  pretend,  indeed,  that  you  are  punctual  in  your  private  devotions  ; 
but  without  observing  that  this  pretence,  under  such  circumstances, 
will  seldom  bear  a  rigorous  examination.  What  is  that  part  of  your 
conduct  that  falls  under  the  notice  of  your  domestics,  that  distinguishes 
you  from  those  unhappy  persons  who  live  without  God  in  the  world  ? 
If  the  Scrij)tures  are  not  read,  if  your  family  is  never  convened  for 
worship,  no  trace  or  vestige  of  religion  remains.  A  stranger  who 
sojourns  in  such  a  family  will  be  tempted  to  exclaim,  with  much  more 
truth  and  propriety  than  Abraham  on  another  occasion,  "  Surely  the 
fear  of  God  is  not  in  this  place." 

4.  The  practice  of  family  worship  may  be  expected  to  have  a  most 
beneficial  inlluence  on  the  character  and  conduct  of  the  heads  of 
families  themselves.  In  common  with  other  means  of  grace,  it  is  rea- 
.epnable  to  expect  it  will  iiave  this  influence.     Of  all  the  means  of 


ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP.  135 

^race,  prayer  is  the  most  beneficial.  But  prayer,  under  the  circum- 
stances we  are  now  contemplating,  is  likely  to  be  productive  of 
advantages  which  deserve  to  be  considered  by  themselves. 

He  who  statedly  invites  others  to  be  witnesses  of  his  devotions 
invites  a  peculiar  inspection  of  his  behaviour,  and  must  be  conscious 
to  how  much  observation  and  contempt  he  lays  himself  open,  should 
he  betray  a  flagrant  inconsistency  between  his  prayers  and  his  conduct. 
That  parent  who  morning  and  evening  summons  his  family  to  acts 
of  devotion  is  not  perhaps  distinctly  aware  of  the  total  amount  of  tlie 
influence  this  circumstance  has  upon  his  mind.  It  will  act  as  a  con- 
tinual monitor,  and  will  impose  useful  restraint  upon  his  behaviour. 
He  recollects  that  he  is  about  to  assume  an  awful  and  venerable  char- 
acter in  the  eyes  of  his  domestics — a  character  which  must  set  the 
indulgence  of  a  multitude  of  improprieties  in  a  most  glaring  light.  Is 
he  in  danger  of  being  ensnared  into  indecent  levity,  or  of  contracting  a 
habit  of  foolish  jesting  and  talking  ?  he  recollects  he  is  soon  to  appear 
as  the  mouth  of  his  family  in  addressing  the  blessed  God.  Is  he  sur- 
rounded with  temptations  to  an  immoderate  indulgence  of  his  fleshly 
appetites  in  meats  and  drinks ;  should  he  yield  to  th«  temptation,  how 
would  he  bear  in  the  eyes  of  his  family  to  appear  on  his  knees  before 
God  ?  Is  he  tempted  to  use  harsh  and  provoking  language  to  his 
children  ?  he  recollects  he  is  in  a  few  hours  to  bear  them  in  his  arms 
before  the  Lord.  He  is  to  commend  his  companion  in  life  to  the 
Divine  mercy  and  protection  ;  how  then  can  he  be  "  bitter  against  her?" 
The  case  of  his  servants  is  to  be  shortly  presented  before  God  in  social 
prayer  :  under  such  a  recollection,  it  will  surely  not  be  difficult  for  him 
to  forbear  threatening,  reflecting  that  he  himself  has  a  Master  in  heaven. 
Knowing  that  in  the  hearing  of  all  his  inmates  he  is  about  to  bewail 
the  corruptions  of  his  nature,  to  implore  pardon  for  his  sins  and  strength 
to  resist  temptation  ;  will  he  not  feel  a  double  obligation  on  this  account 
to  struggle  against  that  corruption,  and  anxiously  to  shun  temptation? 
The  punctual  discharge  of  the  duty  we  are  contending  for  will  natu- 
rally strengthen  his  sense  of  the  obligation  of  domestic  duties,  forcibly 
remind  him  of  what  he  owes  to  every  member  of  the  domestic  circle, 
and  cement  the  ties  of  conjugal  and  parental  afleciion, 

5.  I  proceed  to  notice  a  few  of  the  probable  pleas  which  will  be 
urged  for  the  neglect  of  this  duty. 

(1.)  The  most  plausible  I  can  think  of  is  want  of  ability.  To  this 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  furnish  a  reply,  did  it  absolutely  require  a 
degree  of  ability  above  the  most  ordinary  measure.  They  who  urge 
this  plea  may  be  conscious  of  their  incapacity  to  become  the  mouth 
of  others  in  extemporary  prayer,  but  this  is  by  no  means  necessary. 
Excellent  forms,  expressive  of  the  wants  and  desires  of  all  Christian 
families,  may  be  obtained,  which,  supposing  the  inability  alleged  to  be 
real,  ought  by  all  means  to  be  employed.  We,  as  dissenters,  for  the 
most  part  use  and  prefer  free  prayer.  But  God  forbid  we  should  ever 
imagine  this  the  only  mode  of  prayer  which  is  acceptable  to  God.  We 
cannot  doubt  that  multitudes  of  devout  persons  have  used  forms  of 
devotion  with  great  and  eminent  advantage.     To  present  our  desires 


136  ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

before  God,  in  reliance  on  the  atonement  of  the  Mediator,  is  tlie  real 
end  of  prayer,  [and]  is  equally  acceptable  whether  it  be  oflered  with  or 
without  a  preconceived  form  of  words. 

The  plea  of  mental  inability  will  not  stand  the  test  of  an  examination, 
unless  it  include  an  incapacity  to  read  ;  a  case  comparatively  rare,  and 
which  we  hope  is  continually  becoming  rarer,  and  applies  to  few 
instances  of  the  neglect  we  are  complaining  of. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  those  who  complain  of  this  inability 
have  never  made  the  trial,  and  consequently  never  can  form  any 
accurate  judgment  of  their  qualifications.  Were  you  to  make  the 
attempt,  beginning  with  the  use  of  a  form  if  absolutely  necessary,  and 
making  variations  and  additions  as  your  feelings  may  suggest,  you 
would  find  the  accomplishment  of  that  gracious  promise,  "  They  that 
wait  on  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength." 

If  your  omission  of  family  prayer  is  accompanied  whh  a  similar 
neglect  of  private  devotion,  your  situation  is  indeed  deplorable ;  you 
are  living  "  without  God  in  the  world."  But  supposing  you  to  make 
conscience  of  private  prayer,  why  not  adopt  the  same  method  in 
domestic  worship,  with  the  addition  of  such  petitions  as  the  circum- 
stance of  its  greater  publicity  may  require  ?  Beware  lest  a  secret 
disaffection  to  God,  a  secret  enmity  to  his  person  and  his  ways,  lies 
at  the  foundation  of  this  apology.  It  wears  a  show  of  humility,  but  it 
is  but  a  mere  shadow  of  it  without  the  substance. 

(2.)  Another  class  of  persons  are  ready  to  admit  the  propriety  and 
utility  of  this  practice,  but  allege  that  such  is  the  variety  and  multitude 
of  their  worldly  avocations,  that  they  cannot  spare  the  time  requisite 
for  this  exercise.  Let  such  be  urged  to  remember  that  the  time 
necessary  for  the  purpose  we  are  recommending  is  very  small — five 
minutes  will  suffice  for  reading  an  ordinary  chapter ;  [not  many  more 
for  the  utterance  of  a  fervent]  prayer;  so  that  the  exercise,  morning 
and  evening,  need  occupy  little,  if  any  thing,  more  than  half  an  hour. 
And  is  this  a  space  too  much  to  be  allotted,  in  the  most  busy  life,  for 
an  exercise  so  sacred  in  its  obligation,  and  so  replete  with  advantage 
as  this  has  been  shown  to  be  ?  Where  is  the  man  so  incessantly 
occupied  as  not  to  allow  himself  more  leisure  than  tliis,  frequently, 
if  not  habitually — that  does  not  allot  more  time  to  objects  of  confessedly 
inferior  magnitude  ? 

In  addition  to  what  has  been  advanced,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
prove  that  no  loss  of  time  will  usually  result ;  for  what  may  seem  a 
loss  will  be  more  than  compensated  by  that  spirit  of  order  and  regu- 
larity which  the  stated  observance  of  this  duty  tends  to  produce.  It 
will  serve  as  an  edge  and  border  to  preserve  the  web  of  life  from 
unravelling :  it  will  tend  to  keep  every  thing  in  its  proper  place  and 
[time] ;  and  this  practice  will  naturally  introduce  a  similar  regularity 
into  other  employments. 

1  Consider  for  a  moment  on  what  principle  does  the  plea  of  want  of 
time  depend.  Plainly  on  this  :  that  religion  is  not  the  grand  concern; 
that  there  is  something  more  important  than  the  service  of  God :  that 
the  pleasing  and  glorifying  of  our  Maker  is  not  the  great  end  of  human 


THE  INEVITABLE  LOT  OF  HUMAN  LIFE.  137 

existence  ; — a  fatal  delusion,  a  soul-destroying  mistake,  which  militates 
against  the  whole  spirit  of  the  gospel,  and  presumptuously  impeaches  the 
wisdom  of  that  Saviour  who  exclaimed,  "Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of 
God,  and  his  righteousness,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto 
you."* 

(3.)  Another  class  will  perhaps  reply,  "We  are  convinced  of  the 
urgent  obligation  of  the  duty  whicfi  has  been  recommended ;  but  we 
have  so  long  neglected  it  that  we  know  not  how  to  begin, — are  ashamed 
at  the  prospect  of  the  surprise,  the  curiosity  it  will  occasion." 


But  there  is  much  impiety  in  this  shame ;  and  if  it  be  permitted  to 
deter  you  from  complying  with  the  dictates  of  conscience  and  the 
commands  of  God,  it  will  unquestionably  class  you  with  the  fearful 
and  unbeUeving,  who  shall  have  their  portion  in  the  second  death.  To 
be  ashamed  of  the  service  of  Christ  is  to  be  ashamed  of  Christ  and  his 
cross :  and  you  have  heard  the  Divine  denunciation  of  judgment  on 
such  characters  :  "  Whosoever  shall  be  ashamed  of  me  and  of  my  words 
in  this  adulterous  and  sinful  generation,  of  him  also  shall  the  Son  of 
man  be  ashamed  when  he  cometh  in  the  glory  of  his  Father  with  the 
holy  angels. "t  You  are  afraid  of  presenting  yourself  under  a  singular 
aspect  to  your  domestics  and  acquaintance :  have  you  not  reflected  on 
the  awful  and  trying  situation  in  which  you  will  be  placed  by  the 
infliction  of  the  sentence,  justly  merited,  "  Of  him  will  I  be  ashamed  ;" 
"  Rise  up,  Lord,  and  let  thine  enemies  be  scattered  ;  and  let  them  that 
hate  thee  flee  before  thee  ?" 

II.  Hints  on  the  practice.     Best  mode  of  performing  it. 

i.  Let  it  ever  be  joined  with  reading  the  Scriptures. 

2.  Let  it  be  constant. 

3.  Attend  with  a  full  decision  of  mind,  with  the  utmost  seriousness. 

4.  Seek  the  aid  of  the  Spirit. 


XXVII. 

REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  INEVITABLE  LOT  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

EccLES.  xi.  8.— If  a  man  live  many  years.,  and  rejoice  in  them  all,  yet 
let  him  remember  the  days  of  darkness,  for  they  shall  be  many. 

There  is  nothing  better  established  by  universal  observation,  than 
that  the  condition  of  man  upon  earth  is,  less  or  more,  an  afllicted  con- 
dition :  "  Man  is  born  unto  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upward. "J  As 
the  sparks  ascend  by  an  immutable  law  in  nature,  so  the  sorrows  to 
which  we  are  exposed  spring  from  necessity,  from  causes  whose 
operation  is  unavoidable  and  universal.     Look  through  all  the  genera. 

*  Matt.  vi.  33.  t  Mark  viu.  38  t  Job  v.  7. 


138  REFLECTIONS  ON  THE 

tions  of  man,  throughout  all  times  and  places,  and  see  if  you  can 
discover  a  single  individual  who  has  not,  at  one  period  or  another, 
been  exposed  to  the  arrows  of  adversity.  The  roll  or  record  of 
human  destiny  is  written  "  within  and  without,  with  lamentation,  and 
mourning,  and  wo."* 

We  are  naturally  extremely  and  immoderately  attached  to  worldly 
enjoyments  and  to  temporal  prospects.  Our  souls  cleave  to  them 
with  an  eagerness  extremely  disproportioned  to  their  real  value,  which 
is  one  of  the  maledictions  incurred  by  the  fall.  The  curse  denounced 
upon  the  earth  for  man's  sake  has  contracted  the  sum  of  earthly  good 
within  a  narrow  compass,  and  blasted  it  with  much  vanity,  but  has  not 
had  the  effect  of  dispelling  the  charm  by  which  it  engages  our  affections. 
It  is  a  part  of  the  misery  of  man,  in  his  fallen  state,  that  he  has  become 
more  attached  than  ever  to  the  world,  now  that  it  has  lost  its  value. 
Having  swerved  from  God,  and  lost  his  true  centre,  he  has  fallen  into 
an  idolatry  of  the  world,  and  makes  it  the  exclusive  object  of  his 
attachment,  even  at  the  very  time  that  its  beauty  is  marred  and  its 
satisfactions  impaired. 

"  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun,"t  "While  the 
sun  of  earthly  prospects  shines  we  are  apt  to  feel  the  day  of  evil 
at  a  distance  from  our  minds, — we  are  reluctant  to  admit  the  possibility 
of  a  change  of  scene, — we  shut  out  the  thought  of  calamity  and  distress, 
as  an  unwelcome  intruder. 

The  young  revel  in  the  enjoyment  of  health,  and  exult  in  the  gay 
hopes  and  enchanting  gratifications  suited  to  that  delightful  [season], 
as  though  they  were  never  to  know  a  period.  Amused  and  transported 
with  [their]  situation  and  [their]  prospects,  it  is  with  extreme  difficulty 
they  admit  the  conviction  that  the  days  are  fast  approaching  when  they 
shall  confess  they  have  no  pleasure  in  them.  "  Let  us  enjoy  the  good 
things  that  are  present."  "  Let  us  fill  ourselves  with  costly  wine  and 
ointments,  and  let  no  flower  of  the  spring  pass  by  us."  "  Let  us  crown 
ourselves  with  rose-buds  before  they  be  withered.";}: 

Experience,  in  most  cases,  soon  alters  their  sentiments,  and  events 
arise  which  impress  an  indelible  conviction  of  the  short  duration  of 
earthly  good.  The  bloom  of  health  is  blasted  by  disease  ;  the  seeds 
of  some  incurable  malady  begin  to  shoot  up  and  make  their  appearance  ; 
or  the  agony  of  disappointed  passions  is  impressed  ;  or  cares  and  anx- 
ieties begin  to  corrode  the  mind ;  or  the  hand  of  death  [inflicts]  some  fatal 
stroke  by  which  the  object  of  the  tenderest  affection  is  snatched  away. 

If  a  long  course  of  prosperity  has  been  enjoyed,  during  which  almost 
every  thing  has  succeeded  to  the  wish  (which  sometimes,  though  very 
rarely,  occurs),  the  confidence  in  worldly  hopes  and  prospects  is 
mightily  increased ;  the  mind  is  more  softened  and  enervated  by  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  prosperity,  and  is  the  more  unfitted  to  [go 
through]  those  scenes  of  distress  which  inevitably  await  him.  He 
who  is  in  this  situation  is  tempted  to  say,  "  I  shall  surely  die  in  my 
nest  ;"^  or,  in  the  language  of  the  rich  man  in  the  gospel,  "  Soul,  eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry, — thou  hast  goods  laid  up  for  many  years. "[| 

•  Ezek.  ii.  10.      t  Eccles.  xi  7.      }  Wisdom  of  Solomon  ii.  8.      $  Job  xxlx.  18.      ||  Luke  xii.  lik 


INEVITABLE  LOT  OF  HUMAN  LIFE.  139 

The  whole  system  of  worldly  amusement  is  adapted  to  make  us 
forget  the  real  condition  of  human  life,  to  disguise  every  object,  and  to 
invest  the  present  state  with  a  sort  of  theatrical  glow.  It  is  contrived, 
in  every  part  of  it,  to  banish  reflection,  to  hide  the  future  from  the 
view,  and  to  make  us  overlook  the  evils  of  life,  and  the  realities  of 
eternity.  But  still,  as  the  nature  of  things  remains  the  same,  as  the 
course  of  human  events  can  no  more  be  arrested  than  the  tide,  the 
only  effect  of  this  voluntary  infatuation  is,  to  render  the  stroke  of 
calamity,  when  it  does  fall,  doubly  heavy,  by  leaving  the  soul  without 
preparation  and  without  resources.  "  Their  fear  cometh  as  desolation, 
and  their  destruction  as  a  whirlwind."*  The  lot  of  mankind  is,  sooner 
or  later,  a  state  of  suflering,  from  which  no  past  successes,  no  seeming 
stability  in  our  station,  can  possibly  secure.  "  Though  a  man  live  many 
years,  and  rejoice  in  them  all ;  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of 
darkness ;  for  they  shall  be  many.     All  that  cometh  is  vanity."! 

It  is  wisdom,  then,  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  human  life ;  to  correct 
the  illusions  of  our  passions ;  and  to  regulate  our  expectations  re- 
specting the  good  and  evil  of  the  present,  by  the  result  of  universal 
observation  and  experience.  It  is  Solomon,  that  model  of  a  great  and 
prosperous  prince,  whose  [mental]  attainments,  exalted  station,  and 
extraordinary  prosperity  combined  to  confer  upon  him,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, an  exemption  from  suffering,  who,  under  the  dictate  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  penned  tliese  words,  "  If  a  man  live  many  years,  and  rejoice  in 
them  all,  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of  darkness ;  for  they  shall 
be  many." 

Let  us  proceed  briefly  to  consider  what  improvement  should  be  made 
of  this  view  of  human  life,  of  this  universal  exposure  to  affliction. 

I.  The  first  lesson  it  should  teach  us  is,  that  we  are  not  in  the  situ- 
ation in  which  man  was  first  formed.  The  original  destination  of  man 
was  not  a  state  of  suffering.  When  God  first  formed  the  world,  on 
surveying  all  that  he  had  created,  he  pronounced  it  to  be  "  very 
good."|  If  it  now  be  very  evil,  there  must  be  a  change  in  the  state 
and  condition  of  mankind,  since  the  Supreme  Being  is  immutable.  It 
would  be  utterly  repugnant  to  his  perfections  to  doom  an  innocent 
creature  to  so  much  suff'ering ;  and  the  Word  of  God  expressly  de- 
clares "  he  does  not  willingly  afflict  or  grieve  the  children  of  men."§ 
Hence  calamities  are  styled  chastisements  throughout  the  Scriptures, 
and  are  invariably  spoken  of  as  expressions  of  the  Divine  anger. 
Under  the  administration  of  a  wise  and  holy  Being,  had  there  been 
no  sin,  there  would  have  been  no  suff'ering.  Tyrants  may  delight  in 
displaying  their  power  over  their  vassals,  by  inflicting  upon  them  un- 
merited punishments ;  but  far  be  it  from  us  to  suspect  such  conduct  in 
"  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,"||  in  Him  who  "  delighteth  in  mercy."F 

The  unspeakable  calamities  to  which  we  are  exposed,  in  our  pas- 
sage through  life,  announce  our  fallen  state ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  give 
any  consistent  account  of  them,  without  referring  them,  as  the  word 
of  God  miiformly  does,  to  our  original  defection  and  departure  from 

*  Prov.  i.  27.  t  Eccles.  xi .  8.  X  Gen.  i.  31. 

^  Lam.  ill.  'ii.  \\  Eiek.  x.\xi.\.  T.  If  Mic.  vji.  i8. 


140  REFLECTIONS  ON  THE 

God.  In  this  light  his  conduct  in  inflicting  them  appears  unexception- 
ably  just  and  proper.  We  "have  forsaken  the  fountain  of  living 
water,"*  and  it  is  just  that  the  "  cisterns"  to  which  we  repair  should 
be  "  broken."  We  have  served  and  loved  "  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator  ;"t  and  it  is  just  that  created  comforts  should  be  imbittered. 
We  have  virtually  declared,  by  our  conduct,  that  there  is  no  happiness 
to  be  found  in  God  :  how  fitting  is  it  that  he  should  declare,  "  You  shall 
find  it  nowhere  else ;"  how  equitable  is  it  that  he  who  leans  upon  an 
"  arm  of  flesh,"|  instead  of  trusting  in  the  living  God,  should  often 
[find]  it  to  be  a  broken  reed,  which  wounds  him  who  stays  himself 
upon  it,  instead  of  affording  him  support !  When  we  consider  what  a 
scene  of  indescribable  distress  the  state  of  the  world  presents  at  this 
moment ; — the  devastation  of  [nations] ;  the  sudden  reverses  of  fortune 
in  the  highest  ranks ;  and  the  penury,  embarrassment,  and  distress  in 
the  lower ; — who  does  not  see  [in  these]  the  tokens  of  the  [Divine] 
displeasure ;  who  can  fail  to  perceive  the  marks  of  a  fallen  state,  and 
that  the  Lord  has  a  controversy,  by  which  he  pleads  with  all  flesh  1 

We  have  all  been  guilty  of  spiritual  idolatry,  and  the  Lord  in  his 
justice  spreads  our  carcasses  before  the  objects  of  our  guilty  attach- 
ment. "  At  that  time,  sailh  the  Lord,  they  shall  bring  out  the  bones  of 
the  kings  of  Judah,  the  bones  of  his  princes,  and  the  bones  of  the  priests, 
and  the  bones  of  the  prophets,  and  the  bones  of  the  inhabitants  of  Je- 
rusalem, out  of  their  graves :  and  tliey  shall  spread  them  before  the 
sun,  and  the  moon,  and  all  the  hosts  of  heaven,  whom  they  have  loved, 
and  whom  they  have  served,  and  after  whom  they  have  walked,  and 
whom  tliey  have  sought,  and  whom  they  have  worshipped."^  Let  us 
no  longer  regard  the  calamities  of  life  as  the  ofl"spring  of  chance,  or 
the  product  of  blind  necessity,  but,  agreeably  to  the  oracles  of  God,  as 
the  judgments  of  the  Lord. 

n.  Let  the  consideration  of  the  universal  exposure  of  man  to  ca- 
lamities and  sufferings  prevent  our  being  surprised  or  astonished  when 
it  becomes  our  own  lot.  W^hen  we  are  unexpectedly  led  into  scenes 
of  trial,  W€  are  apt  to  be  filled  with  emotion,  "  as  though  some  strange 
thing  had  happened  unto  us  ;"||  and  perhaps  we  are  tempted  to  suspect 
that  we  are  treated  with  an  unjustifiable  rigour.  We  are  ready  too 
often  to  draw  invidious  comparisons  between  ourselves  and  those  who, 
we  suppose,  are  dealt  witli  in  a  more  favourable  manner ;  and  secretly 
to  say.  Why  am  I  thus  afflicted  and  distressed ;  why  am  I  set  as  a 
mark  for  his  arrows  ?  It  might  be  sufficient,  in  order  to  repress  such 
emotions,  to  remember  that  the  Lord  is  a  sovereign,  who  gives  no  ac- 
count of  his  matters :  shall  tlie  thing  formed  say  to  him  that  formed 
him,  "  Why  hast  thou  made  me  thus  ?"  "  Who  art  thou  that  rcpliest 
against  God  ?"F  "  Shall  a  living  man  complain,  a  man  for  the  punish- 
ment of  his  sins  ?"**  We  must  be  strangely  acquainted  with  ourselves, 
if  we  are  not  aware  that  he  has  not  corrected  us  less  than  our  iniqui- 
ties deserve.  These  considerations,  however,  though  not  slight,  are 
not  the  only  ones  which  are  fitted  to  calm  the  tumult  of  the  breast. 
We  may,  Avith  advantage  to  ourselves,  and  unitedly  with  the  most  per- 

*  Jer.  ii.  13.  t  Rom.  i.  25.  J  Jer.  xvi.  5.  $  Jer.  \ill.  1,  2. 

II  1  Pet.  iv.  12.  V  Rom.  ix.  20.  •*  Lam.  iii.  89. 


INEVITABLE  LOT  OF  HUMAN  LIFE.  141 

feet  benevolence,  cast  our  eyes  abroad,  to  contemplate  the  universality 
of  distress.  We  are  not  the  only  or  the  greatest  sufferers :  we  have 
innumerable  companions  in  tribulation.  Without  giving  scope  to  ima- 
gination, or  quitting  the  realities  of  life,  we  may  easily  find  among 
our  fellow-creatures  instances  of  deeper  wo,  and  more  complicated 
distresses,  than  those  which  we  feel.  Here  we  may  see  a  person,  like 
Job,  flourishing  in  affluence,  and  reduced,  by  a  sudden  and  unexpected 
stroke,  to  the  depth  of  penury.  There  we  may  behold  another,  like 
the  same  illustrious  sufferer,  deprived  in  a  very  short  season  of  all  his 
ofispring  by  death.  There  we  see  the  widowed  mother  of  a  numerous 
family  at  a  loss  to  still  the  cries  of  her  children,  who  are  clamorous 
for  bread.  If  we  turn  in  another  quarter,  we  may  find  a  poor  unhappy 
creature  wasting  away  under  an  incurable  and  painful  disorder,  where 
the  only  vigorous  principle  seems  to  be  the  living  cancer  which  cor- 
rodes him.  Hear  the  bitter  lamentation  of  Job  :  "  Even  to-day  is  my 
complaint  bitter,  and  my  stroke  heavier  than  my  groaning."*  "  When 
I  lie  down  I  say.  When  shall  I  arise,  and  the  night  be  gone  1  I  am 
full  of  tossings  to  and  fro."t  "  Oh  that  my  grief  were  thoroughly 
weighed,  and  my  calamity  laid  in  the  balances  together !"  "  therefore 
my  words  are  swallowed  up."  "  For  the  arrows  of  the  Almighty  are 
within  me,  the  poison  whereof  drinketh  up  my  spirit."^  Hear  the 
man  after  God's  own  heart  exclaim,  "  I  water  my  couch  with  my  tears,§ 
and  mingle  my  drink  with  weeping."||  "  By  reason  of  grief  my 
flesh  is  dried  up,  and  my  heart  is  withered  as  grass. "F  Look  at  the 
history,  not  of  the  enemies  only,  but  of  the  most  eminent  servants  of 
God,  and  you  will  generally  find  their  trials  as  conspicuous  as  their 
piety :  so  true  is  it  that  the  high  road  to  heaven  is  through  suffering ; 
and  that  "  through  much  tribulation  we  must  enter  into  the  kingdom."** 

If  we  are  tempted  to  repine  at  seeing  others  in  peace  and  prosperity, 
while  we  are  harassed  and  distressed,  we  form  a  most  inadequate 
and  premature  judgment.  Their  period  of  trial  will  arrive  ;  their  day 
of  calamity  is  also  approaching ;  the  mildew  that  blights  their  enjoy- 
ments is  prepared ;  and  from  the  evil  omen  of  adversity  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  them  to  escape,  more  than  ourselves.  "  If  a  man  live 
many  years,  and  rejoice  in  them  all ;  yet  let  him  remember  the  days 
of  darkness ;  for  they  shall  be  many." 

III.  Here  we  learn  the  propriety  of  not  looking  for  happiness  err 
earth.  "  This  is  not  our  rest :  it  is  polluted. "ft  A  state  exposed  to  so 
much  calamity  can  never  have  been  designed  as  the  scene  of  enjoy- 
ment ;  it  must  have  been  calculated  for  the  purpose  of  trial.  It  is  not 
Canaan ;  it  is  the  wilderness  through  which  the  chosen  tribes  were 
destined  to  pass  in  their  way  to  it ;  it  is  a  vale  of  tears,  [along]  which 
the  Christian  pilgrim  toils  and  struggles  in  his  passage  to  the  heavenly 
kingdom.  Let  us  understand  the  real  nature  of  our  present  condition  ; 
let  us  learn  that  nothing  belonging  to  it  is  merely  or  principally  in- 
tended for  our  gratification ;  that  it  is  well  suited  to  be  the  abode  of  a 
sinful  creature  upon  trial,  under  a  dispensation  of  mercy  ;  where  there 

*  Job  xxiii.  2  t  Job  vii.  4.  t  Job  vi.  2,3,4.  ^  Psalm  vi.  6. 

II  Psalmcii.9.  IT  Psalm  cii.  4.  »  *  Acts- xiv.  22.  ft  Micah  ii.  10. 


142  ON  CHASTISEMENT 

is  just  enough  of  good  to  support  under  evil,  and  those  prospects  of 
greater  good  afforded  in  a  future  state  which  are  sufficient  to  dispel 
despondency.  It  is  a  condition  characterized  by  vicissitude,  by  danger, 
by  suffering,  and  by  hope  ;  and  he  is  to  be  esteemed  the  happiest  man 
who  most  surmounts  its  tempests,  escapes  its  pollutions,  and  is  sancti- 
fied by  its  trials.  Are  you  at  present  in  circumstances  of  ease  and 
comfort  ?  be  thankful  for  it,  but  place  no  reliance  on  its  continuance. 
Enjoy  with  moderation  whatever  is  gratifying  in  your  lot,  but  let  it  not 
engage  your  heart,  let  it  not  deeply  entangle  your  affection.  By  an 
intimate  converse  with  the  promises  of  the  gospel,  learn  to  live  above 
[the  world],  and  consider  it  not  as  [constituting]  your  portion  or  your 
happiness.  Study,  indeed,  to  the  utmost  to  be  dead  to  the  world,  and 
alive  to  God ;  that  "  when  he  who  is  our  life  shall  appear,  ye  also 
shall  appear  with  him  in  glory."* 

IV.  Let  us  all  be  engaged  to  lay  in  a  suitable  preparation  for  the 
days  of  adversity.  Let  us  be  aiming  to  acquire,  by  fiiitli  and  prayer, 
and  the  diligent  perusal  of  the  Scriptures,  those  principles  which  will 
effectually  support  us  in  the  dark  and  cloudy  day. 

The  Christian  character  is  [formed]  of  such  dispositions  as  are,  each 
of  them  apart,  and  still  more  when  combined,  adapted  to  support  the 
soul  ainitl  the  severest  trials.  Under  the  influence  of  these,  the 
Christian  believer  fears  none  of  those  things  that  may  happen.  Fahh, 
by  elevating  the  attention  to  a  future  world — to  the  glory  to  be  revealed, 
by  imparting  to  the  real  Christian  a  living  sense  of  that  atonement 
which  is  given  in  the  gospel,  is  a  principle  of  primary  efficacy.  The 
habitual  disposition  to  look  uf>on  this  present  state  as  a  passage  and 
a  pilgrimage,  which  is  deeply  wrought  into  the  Christian  character, 
is  of  itself  dn  admirable  preparation  for  suffering.  The  solemn  renun- 
ciation of  the  world  included  in  this  [impression]  of  the  [mind]  tends 
immediately  to  the  same  effect.  Thus  the  joys  of  faith,  the  consola- 
tions of  the  Holy  Ghost,  raise  the  soul  to  a  surprising  elevation  above 
the  storms  and  trials  of  life. 


XXVIIl. 

ON  CHASTISEMENT  RESULTING  IN  PENITENCE. 

Jer.  xxxi.  18. — Thou  hast  chastised  me,  and  I  was  chastised,  as  a 
bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke  :  turn  thoti  me,  and  I  shall  be  turned ,' 
for  thou  art  the  Lord  my  God. 

This  chapter  contains  great  and  gracious  promises  made  to  the 
people  of  Israel  upon  the  prospect  of  their  true  repentance.  They  are 
assured,  that  notwithstanding  the  severe  rebukes  of  Providence,  the 

♦  Col.  ui.4. 


RESULTING  IN  PENITENCE.  143 

Lord  had  mercy  in  reserve  when  their  afflictions  had  answered  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  appointed,  in  humbling  and  reforming 
them. 

Before  God  visits  his  people  with  consolation  he  prepares  them  for 
it  by  inspiring  a  penitential  spirit,  well  knowing  that  to  indulge  them 
with  his  smiles  while  they  continue  obstinate  and  unreclaimed  would 
neither  comport  with  his  character  nor  contribute  to  their  good.  His 
benignity  and  condescension  are  sufficiently  evinced  in  his  "waiting  to 
be  gracious;"  in  the  promptitude  with  which  he  pardons  the  humble 
penitent.  He  shows  himself  attentive  to  the  first  movement  of  the 
contrite  heart,  agreeable  to  his  declaration  in  the  passage  before  us, 
"  I  have  surely  heard  Ephraim."  In  these  words  we  have  the  picture 
of  the  inmost  feelings  of  an  humble  and  penitent  heart.  We  behold  it 
in  the  deepest  retii-ement,  without  the  least  disguise,  pouring  itself  out 
before  God. 

In  these  remarkable  words  we  have  an  acknowledgment  and  a 
prayer. 

I.  These  words  contain  an  acknowledgment — "  Thou  hast  chastised 
me,  and  I  was  chastised,  as  a  bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke." 

1.  This  expression  we  conceive  to  denote  the  inefficacy  of  former 
corrections.  In  the  Septuagint  it  is  rendered,  "  As  a  bullock,  I  was 
not  taught :  thou  didst  chastise  me,  and  I  was  chastised."  This  was 
all ;  and  no  other  effect  ensued  than  the  uneasy  pain  which  chastise- 
ment necessarily  imparts.  Ephraim  is  represented  as  conscious  that 
former  corrections  had  answered  little  purpose.  He  laments  the  little 
improvement  he  had  made,  and  prays  for  such  an  interposition  of  Divine 
power  and  grace  as  may  work  an  efficient  conversion '  "  Turn  thou 
me,  and  I  shall  be  turned."  The  rebukes  of  Providence  are  often 
represented  in  the  Scriptures  in  tliis  light. — "  And  ye  have  forgotten 
the  exhortation  which  speaketh  unto  you  as  unto  children.  My  son, 
despise  not  thou  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  thou  art 
rebuked  of  him  :  for  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth 
every  son  whom  he  receiveth."* 

Since  afflictive  dispensations  "  spring  not  from  the  dust,"  but  are 
ordained  of  God,  who  takes  no  pleasure  in  the  sufferings  of  his  crea- 
tures, nor  "  willingly  afflicts  the  children  of  men  ;"t — since  a  state  of 
innocence  would  have  included  an  exemption  from  every  sorrow  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  sufferings  of  life  are  not  for  the  most  part  destructive 
— there  is  no  light  in  which  it  is  so  natural  to  consider  them  as  chas- 
tisements ;  which  are  effects  of  displeasure,  but  not  of  a  displeasure 
intended  for  the  destruction  of  its  object,  but  the  amendment. 

2.  Though  corrections  are  calculated  to  produce  amendment,  though 
such  is  their  tendency  and  design,  it  is  evident,  from  observation  and 
experience,  they  often  fail  in  accomplishing  the  effect.  It  is  not  un- 
common to  see  men  hardened  under  rebukes,  and  to  grow  more  bold 
and  presumptuous  in  the  commission  of  sin,  after  having  experienced 
severer  trials  than  before.  This  melancholy  fact  is  of  no  recent  ob- 
servation ;  it  IS  frequently  described  and  lamented  in  the  word  of  God. 

*  Heb.  xii.  5,  6.  r.am.  lii.  33. 


144        ON  CHASTISEMENT  RESULTING  IN  PENITENCE. 

"  Thou  hast  stricken  them,"  says  Jeremiah,  "  but  they  have  not  grieved  } 
thou  hast  consumed  them,  but  they  have  refused  to  receive  correction  : 
they  have  made  their  faces  harder  than  a  rock ;  they  have  refused  to 
return."* 

Of  the  inefficacy  of  mere  external  correction  we  have  a  striking 
proof  in  the  conduct  of  the  generations  who  were  conducted  from  Egypt 
under  the  hand  of  Moses.  Never  were  a  people  more  frequently  or 
more  severely  corrected,  and  never  did  a  people  [show]  themselves 
more  incorrigible.  While  the  remembrance  of  their  sufferings  was 
fresh  they  seemed  disposed  in  earnest  to  seek  God  ;  but  no  sooner  did 
the  sense  of  their  calamities  wear  off,  than  they  relapsed  into  all  their 
former  disobedience  and  rebellion.  "  When  he  slew  them  then  they 
sought  him  :  and  they  returned  and  inquired  early  after  God.  And 
they  remembered  that  God  was  their  rock,  and  the  most  high  God 
their  redeemer.  Nevertheless  they  did  flatter  him  with  their  mouth, 
and  they  lied  unto  him  with  their  tongue. "t  This  is  but  a  picture  of 
what  we  may  observe  every  day.  We  see  men  under  afflictive  dis- 
pensations evince  a  degree  of  emotion :  they  appear  in  some  measure 
humbled  and  convinced ;  and  with  much  apparent  sincerity  confess 
their  persuasion  of  the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  of  the  utter  impossi- 
bility of  finding  happiness  out  of  the  ways  of  religion.  If  they  are 
brought  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  eternity  presents  itself  to  their 
immediate  prospect,  we  find  them  making  the  most  solemn  resolutions, 
condemning  their  former  course  of  life,  and  resolving,  if  spared,  to  enter 
on  a  new  course.  The  frivolous  objects  which  before  engaged  their 
attention  seem  to  have  lost  their  charm,  and  a  flattering  prospect  is 
exhibited  of  their  turning  into  the  path  of  wisdom.  From  their  sub- 
sequent conduct,  however,  it  is  manifest  their  passions  were  only  laid 
asleep,  while  their  principles  continued  unchanged.  The  influence  of 
the  world  was  suspended,  not  destroyed.  The  novelty  of  their  situa- 
tion put  new  thoughts  into  their  minds,  and  awakened  fears  to  which 
before  they  had  been  strangers.  But  as  the  whole  impression  was  to 
be  ascribed  to  circumstances,  when  these  circumstances  were  changed 
the  mind  returned  to  its  former  state.  Their  "  goodness  was  as  the 
morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  which  passeth  away."  The 
serious  impressions  they  felt  during  the  season  of  affliction  were  never 
followed  up.  They  terminated  in  no  regular  attachment  to  the  serious 
exercises  of  piety ;  or  if  they  were  led  to  pray  at  all,  they  were  not 
sufficiently  deep  and  abiding  to  produce  a  perseverance  in  that  duty. 
The  recovery  of  health  or  the  return  of  prosperity  gradually,  but  speed- 
ily, effaced  every  trace  of  serious  feeling,  and  left  them  perhaps  in  a 
Slate  of  deeper  alienation  from  God  than  ever. 

3.  Ephraim  is  here  represented  as  reflecting  upon  it.  (Proximate 
causes  of  the  ineflicacy  of  correction  by  itself.) 

4.  Inattention  to  the  hand  of  God,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  their 
neglecting  to  pass  from  the  contemplation  of  their  sufferings  to  their 
sins.  Religion  begins  with  consideration.  Till  they  are  brought  to 
thorough  reflection,  no  real  improvement  can  be  expected.     It  was  a 

*  Jer.  V.  3.  t  Ps-  Ixxviii.  34-36. 


COMFORTS  OF  CHRISTIANS  UNDER  TRIALS.  145 

frequent  complaint  with  the  Messiah,  "  My  people  will  not  consider." 
"The  Lord  crieth  unto  the  city,  and  the  man  of  wisdom  shall  see  thy 
name  :  hear  ye  the  rod,  and  who  hath  appointed  it."*  If  we  consider 
affliction  as  springing  from  the  dust,  and  content  ourselves  as  looking 
only  at  secondary  causes,  or  human  instruments,  no  wonder    * 

Men  are  apt  to  spare  themselves  ;  to  give  way  to  a  dangerous  pusil- 
lanimity, by  shrinking  from  reflections  which,  however  useful  in  their 
tendency,  they  find  to  be  painful.  They  are  apt  to  consider  their  suf- 
ferings as  expiatory. 

5.  In  the  serious  purpose  of  a  religious  life,  formed  under  afflictive 
dispensations,  too  many  depend  entirely  upon  resolutions  formed  in 
their  own  strength.  To  such  purposes  may  be  applied  the  beautiful 
image  of  Nahura  :  "As  the  great  grasshoppers,  which  camp  in  the 
hedges  in  the  cold  day,  but  when  the  sun  ariseth  they  flee  away,  and 
their  place  is  not  known."! 

II.  The  prayer, — "  Turn  thou  me,"  [may  be]  enforced  by  such  argu- 
ments as  these  : — 

1.  The  plea  of  necessity.  There  is  no  other  resource.  It  is  evi- 
dent something  is  wanting,  some  Divine  [agency],  which  shall  produce 
the  effect  which  external  events  have  failed  to  [produce], 

2.  To  entreat  God  to  turn  is  not  to  ask  an  impossibility.  The  resi- 
due of  the  Spirit  is  with  him. 

3.  It  is  worthy  of  his  interposition.  The  turning  the  heart  is  a  fit 
occasion  on  which  Omnipotence  may  act. 

4.  The  plea  may  be  enforced  by  precedents.  It  implies  no  depart- 
ure from  his  known  methods. 

5.  We  may  enforce  it  by  a  reference  to  the  divine  [mei'cy]. 


XXIX. 

ON  THE  COMFORTS  OF  CHRISTIANS  UNDER  EITHER 
WORLDLY  OR  SPIRITUAL  TRIALS. 

Psalm  xciv.  19. — In  the  multitude  of  my  thoughts  within  me  thy  com- 


forts delight  my  soul. 


Let  us  take  a  brief  survey  of  the  internal  thoughts  of  a  distressint^ 
nature  which  are  apt  to  arise  in  the  mind  of  a  good  man ;  and  next 
observe  the  tendency  of  the  comforts  of  the  gospel  to  assuage  or  remove 
the  uneasiness  which  they  have  occasioned. 

I.  Let  us  take  a  survey  of  some  of  the  distressing  thoughts  which 
are  apt  to  oppress  the  mind  of  a  good  man.     They  may  be  considered 

#  Micah  vi.  9.  -f  Nahum  iii.  17. 

;  Preached  at  Leicester,  December,  1815. 

Vol.  III.— K 


146  ON  THE  COMFORTS  OF  CHRISTIANS 

as  relating  to  these  objects :  the  state  of  the  world,  the  state  of  the 
church,  and  his  own  state  as  an  individual. 

1.  The  state  of  the  world.  When  a  good  man  surveys  the  general 
prevalence  of  irreligion  and  impiety,  when  he  considers  how  few  there 
are  comparatively  who  seek  after  God,  or  are  moved  by  any  impres- 
sion of  a  serious  nature,  he  cannot  but  be  affected.  "  I  beheld  the 
transgressors,  and  was  grieved.  Horror  hath  taken  hold  upon  me 
because  of  the  wicked  that  forsake  thy  law,"*  When,  again,  he  con- 
siders whillier  such  a  course  must  tend,  and  in  what  it  will  issue,  the 
prospect  is  still  more  alarming.  It  is  no  want  of  charity  to  suspect 
that  the  greater  part  of  mankind  fall  short  of  the  condition  of  salvation  ; 
it  is  the  very  consequence  of  submission  to  the  authority  of  revelation. 
"  Wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction, 
and  many  there  be  which  go  in  thereat."! 

2.  The  state  of  the  church.  The  palpable  inconsistency  between 
the  lives  of  numerous  professors  of  religion  and  the  real  import  of  that 
profession.  The  many  instances  of  gross  immorality  which  are  found 
in  the  Christian  church,  [supply]  the  subject  of  much  distressing  reflec- 
tion to  the  sincere  follower  of  Christ.  It  was  to  St.  Paul :  "  For  many 
walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping, 
that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ."  The  injury  sus- 
tained by  the  Divine  honour,  the  discredit  reflected  on  the  gospel  from 
this  quarter,  surpasses  calculation. 

The  obstructions  permitted  to  present  themselves  to  the  propagation 
of  divine  truth  are  of  a  sinister  tendency,  and  give  birth  to  many  a 
painful  reflection  in  the  minds  of  such  as  have  the  interest  of  Zion  at 
heart.  In  how  many  instances  is  the  introduction  of  saving  light  pre- 
vented by  the  exercise  of  intolerance,  while  the  most  detestable  cor- 
ruption and  idolatry  are  sanctioned  and  upheld  by  the  same  means  ? 
In  how  many  instances  have  the  fairest  prospects  of  good  been  suddenly 
blasted  by  superior  power,  the  faint  embers  of  the  true  religion  almost 
extinguished,  and  its  possessors  exposed  to  all  the  severities  of  per- 
secution ? 

Such  is  the  state  of  the  Protestants  in  France  at  this  moment.| 
From  an  authentic  statement  lately  sent  me,  it  appears  that  they  are 
treated  with  the  utmost  cruelty,  compelled  to  quit  their  habitations, 
hunted  and  driven  like  wild  beasts  ;  infants  are  torn  from  their  mothers 
in  order  to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  anticln-ist ;  and  in  some 
instances,  whole  families  are  massacred.  Who  can  tail  to  be  affected  ? 
So  contrary  to  recent  expectation,  so  ofl^ensively  repugnant  to  the 
design  of  Providence  and  the  dictates  of  prophecy,  who  can  fail  to 
exclaim  witli  the  pious  Joshua — "  What  wilt  thou  do  unto  thy  great 
name  V  "  Have  the  workers  of  iniquity  no  knowledge,  who  eat  up 
my  people  as  they  eat  bread  ?"^ 

3.  Uneasy  thoughts  arising  from  his  state  as  an  individual.  "Every 
heart  knows  his  own  bitterness,  and  a  stranger  intemieddleth  not 
theremth." 

»  Psalm  cxix.  158,  53.  t  Matt.  vli.  13. 

}  Sec  Note  p.  145.  ^  Psalm  liii.  4. 


UNDER  TRIALS.  147 

Here  we  may  briefly  [advert  to]  trials  of  a  worldly  and  trials  of  a 
spiritual  nature. 

(1.)  Under  the  first  of  these,  religion  neither  demands  nor  boasts 
a  perfect  insensibility.  The  inspired  psalmist  displayed  a  great  vicis- 
situde of  feeling,  arising  from  this  quarter ;  he  mourned  under  the 
calumny  and  oppression  of  his  enemies,  and  gave  utterance  to  cries 
and  tears  under  his  affliction.  He  felt  with  agonized  poignancy  the 
insults  he  m(3t  with  on  account  of  his  pious  confidence  in  God :  "As 
with  a  sword  in  my  bones,  while  they  say  daily  unto  me.  Where  is  thy 
God  ?"*  The  personal  and  domestic  sufferings  of  Job  are  familiar  to 
your  recollection,  and  are  penned  [that  they  may]  be  monuments,  to  all 
ages,  of  the  severity  with  which  God  sanctities  and  tries  his  people, 
and  of  the  happy  and  infallible  issue. 

(2.)  Uneasy  thoughts  arise  on  a  spiritual  account.  With  a  good 
man,  his  spiritual  [welfare]  is  always  an  object  of  his  first  solicitude  ; 
so  that  when  he  contemplates  the  holiness  and  purity  of  God,  he 
rannot  but  have,  at  times,  many  a  serious  inquiry  how  he  shall  appear 
before  him.  When  he  surveys  his  own  pollution  and  guilt,  the  thought 
of  appearing  before  God  is  one  upon  which  he  can  scarcely  dwell 
without  secret  trembling :  "  What  if  I  shall  be  weighed  in  the  balance 
and  found  wanting  ?"  When  we  consider  our  low  attainments  in  reli- 
gion compared  with  our  opportunities,  our  latent  corruption,  and  our 
frequent  miscarriages  and  failures,  we  are  often  tempted  to  call  in 
question  the  reality  of  our  religion,  and  to  fear  that,  after  all,  we  are 
only  "  almost  Christians."  If  I  am  truly  regenerate,  and  a  child  of 
God,  why  am  1  thus  T  Why  such  a  mixture  of  earthly  and  sensual 
afi'ectioiis  ?  Whence  such  coldness  and  deadness  in  religious  exer- 
cises ?  Why  so  little  delight  in  the  Scriptures, — so  little  complacency  ? 
"  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust."t 

(3.)  Under  desertion,  under  the  hidings  of  God's  countenance,  how 
many  painful  thoughts  arise  !  how  ready  to  indulge  despondency,  and 
to  fear  he  will  never  be  merciful  any  more  ! 

(4.)  In  the  prospect  before  him  ;  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
dangers  and  temptations  which  still  await  him ;  M'hile  he  feels  in  him- 
self nothing  but  frailty  and  weakness,  how  apt  is  he  to  apprehend 
some  fatal  overthrow  !  It  seems  almost  too  much  for  him  to  expect  to 
be  more  than  conqueror  ;  that  he  shall  be  able  to  make  his  way 
through  such  a  host  of  enemies,  and  pass  into  the  celestial  city.  He 
seems  to  feel  himself  totally  devoid  of  that  spiritual  strength  and 
vigour  which  are  requisite  for  such  combats,  which  are  necessary  to 
enable  him  to  vanquish  such  difficulties.  He  is  ready  to  cry,  "  I  shall 
never  see  that  goodly  mountain  and  Lebanon ;  I  shall  never  see  the 
king  in  his  beauty,  nor  behold  that  land  which  is  so  far  ofl'." 

II.  Let  us  briefly  notice  the  consolations  of  God  opposed  to  these 
uneasy  thoughts. 

1.  We  first  adverted  to  such  as  arise  from  the  disordered  state  of 
the  world. 

*  Psalm  xlii.  J0>  t  Psalm  cxix.  25. 

K2 


148  COMFORTS  OF  CHRISTIANS  UNDER  TRIALS. 

On  this  subject  great  consolation  springs  from  the  conviction  that 
the  Lord  reigneth.  There  sit  at  the  helm  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and 
goodness.  These  perfections  are  of  such  a  nature  that  renders  it 
impossible  for  them  to  lie  dormant  or  inactive  :  they  are  in  perpetual 
operation ;  and,  in  the  final  result,  they  will  appear  with  ineffable 
splendour  and  beauty. 

"  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  him :  righteousness  and 
judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne."  Under  the  administration 
of  such  a  Being,  all  events  will  infallibly  terminate  well, — well  for 
the  interests  of  his  glory,  and  well  for  the  interests  of  his  people. 

With  whatever  [uneasiness]  we  may  contemplate  the  prevalence  of 
moral  disorder,  and  its  portentous  effects  in  a  future  state,  the  page  of 
revelation  assures  us,  that  ultimately  the  world  will  be  filled  with  holy 
and  happy  creatures  ;  that  religion  and  virtue  will  prove  triumphant ; 
and  that  all  nations  shall  see  the  glory  of  God,  and  worship  at  his 
footstool.  And  with  respect  to  the  final  state  of  the  wicked,  there  is 
every  reason  to  conclude  that  their  numbers  will  bear  no  proportion  to 
those  of  the  blessed,  and  that  thus  no  more  misery  will  be  inflicted 
than  w-hat  will  be  rendered  conducive  to  the  order  and  happiness  of 
the  universe. 

2.  Under  painful  apprehensions  respecting  the  state  of  the  church, 
the  comforts  of  God  are  neither  few  nor  small.  It  behooves  us,  on 
such  occasions,  to  reflect  that  it  is  incomparably  more  his  care  than 
ours  ;  that  as  the  Saviour  bought  it  with  his  blood,  he  will  not  fail  to 
guide  and  govern  it  in  the  best  manner  possible.  He  has  promised 
"  The  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it."  His  interpositions 
in  its  favour  afford  a  pledge  of  what  he  will  still  accomplish  :  "  I  gave 
Egypt  for  thy  ransom,  Ethiopia  and  Sheba  for  thee.  Since  thou  wast 
precious  in  my  sight,  thou  hast  been  honourable,  and  I  have  loved  thee  : 
therefore  will  I  give  men  for  thee,  and  people  for  thy  life."* 

Afflictions  [are]  designed  to  purify  the  church. 

3.  Under  the  distressing  thoughts  arising  from  the  state  of  a  Chris- 
tian, as  an  individual,  the  Divine  comforts  are  proposed. 

In  temporal  aflliction  and  privations,  how  consoling  is  it  to  reflect 
that  they  are  all  ordered  in  infinite  wisdom,  proceed  from  the  purest 
benignity ;  that  they  will  issue  in  our  advantage,  and  that  they  will  be 
but  of  short  duration.  This,  may  the  afflicted  Christian  reflect,  is  not 
an  eternal  state ;  these  afflictions  aie  but  for  a  moment.  "  Weeping 
may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning."! 

•  Isaiah  jtliii.  3,  4.  t  Psalm  xsx.  5. 


ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD.  149 

XXX. 

ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 
James  iv.  10. — Humble  yourselves  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord, 

In  that  portion  of  his  epistle  to  which  these  words  belong,  we  find 
that  James  is  addressing,  not  the  professed  Christians,  but  their  avowed 
enemies  and  persecutors,  probably  his  countrymen,  who  still  continued 
to  display  the  highest  antipathy  to  Christianity.  "  Whence,"  says  he, 
"  come  wars  and  fightings  ?  come  they  not  hence,  even  of  your  lusts 
that  war  in  your  members  ?  Ye  desire,  and  have  not,  because  ye  ask 
not.  Ye  ask,  and  receive  not,  because  ye  ask  amiss,  that  ye  may 
consume  it  upon  your  lusts.  Ye  adulterers  and  adulteresses,  know 
ye  not  that  the  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God  ?"* 

As  the  persons  who  were  the  objects  of  these  remarks  were,  unques- 
tionably, utterly  estranged  from  the  Christian  religion,  and  the  enemies 
of  God,  it  is  evident  the  duty  inculcated  in  the  words  under  our  present 
notice  enters  into  the  first  elements  of  Christian  piety.  It  is  reported 
of  the  celebrated  Austin  of  Hippo,  that  being  asked  what  was  the  first 
thing  in  religion,  he  said,  "  Humility ;"  when  asked  what  was  the 
second,  he  answered,  "  Humility ;"  and  what  was  the  third,  he  still 
returned  the  same  answer,  "  Humility  ;" — alluding  to  the  celebrated 
answer  which  the  Athenian  orator  is  said  to  have  made  on  the  subject 
of  eloquence.  It  seemed  to  have  been  the  intention  of  that  great  maa 
to  insinuate,  that  lowliness  of  mind,  in  the  full  extent  of  its  operation, 
included  nearly  the  whole  of  practical  religion. 

Humility  may  be  considered  in  two  views ;  either  as  it  respects 
the  Divine  Being,  or  as  it  respects  our  fellow-creatures, — humility 
before  God,  or  as  it  affects  our  sentiments  and  conduct  towards 
men.  But,  while  this  distinction  is  admitted,  it  must  be  carefully 
remembered,  that  it  is  no  longer  a  Christian  virtue  than  when  it 
originates  in  just  conceptions  of  the  great  Parent  of  the  universe; 
that  the  basis  of  all  social  excellence  of  a  moral  nature,  is  in  a 
right  state  of  the  heart  towards  God.  The  virtues  M'hich  are 
severed  from  that  stock  will  soon  languish  and  decay  ;  and  as  they  are 
destitute  of  proper  principle,  so  are  they  neither  stable  nor  permanent. 

In  this  discourse  we  shall  confine  ourselves  to  the  consideration  of 
humility,  in  its  aspect  towards  the  Supreme  Being ;  or,  in  other  words, 
humility  before  God.  It  may  be  defined  as  consisting  in  that  profound, 
habitual  conviction  of  our  nothingness,  guilt,  and  pollution  before  God, 
which  a  just  knowledge  of  ourselves  will  necessarily  inspire.  It  is 
the  rectitude  of  this  conviction,  it  is  its  perfect  conformity  to  the  real 

*  James  iv.  1-4. 


150  ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 

nature  of  tilings,  which  renders  it  the  object  of  Divine  approbation. 
It  is  the  agreement  between  the  lowhness  of  our  minds  and  flie 
debasement  of  our  character,  and  the  depression  of  our  state,  which 
invests  it  with  all  its  beauty,  and  all  its  value.  The  gracious  notice 
which  this  disposition  attracts  is  not  owing  to  any  intrinsic  excellence 
in  the  object,  any  more  than  in  lofty  sentiments  connected  with  a 
reflection  on  ourselves  ;  but  solely  because  a  deep  humiliation  coincides 
M'ith  our  true  state  and  characters,  as  surveyed  by  the  eye  of  Omni- 
science. In  a  word,  it  is  the  justness  and  the  correctness  of  the  feel- 
ings and  convictions  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  an  humble 
mind,  which  give  it  all  its  worth. 

Pride  is  the  growth  of  blindness  and  darkness ;  humility,  the  pro- 
duct of  light  and  knowledge :  and  while  the  former  has  its  origin  in 
a  mistaken  and  delusive  estimate  of  things,  the  latter  is  as  much  the 
offspring  of  truth  as  it  is  the  parent  of  virtue. 

Let  it  be  observed,  that  the  disposition  under  consideration  is  not  an 
occasional  feeling,  arising  from  some  sudden  and  momentary  impulse  ; 
it  is  not  a  transitory  depression,  produced  by  some  unexpected  disclo- 
sure :  in  the  good  man,  it  is  an  habitual  state  of  feeling  ;  it  is  the 
quality  in  which  his  mind  is  uniformly  attired  ;  he  is  "  clothed  with 
humility."  Wide  and  diffusive  as  its  operation  is,  some  conception  of 
it  may  be  formed  by  attending  to  the  following  observations  :—  - 

1.  Humility  in  the  sight  of  God  will  have  a  powerful  influence  on 
all  our  thoughts  and  reflections  ;  on  ourselves,  on  our  character,  con- 
dition, and  prospects  :  a  sense  of  inherent  meanness  and  unworthiness 
in  the  sight  of  God  will  adhere  closely  to  us,  and  will  insensibly,  and 
without  effort,  mingle  with  every  recollection  of  the  Supreme  Being. 
A  sort  of  self-annihilation  before  him  will  be  natural  and  habitual ;  and 
by  a  recollection  of  his  majesty,  and  a  consciousness  of  our  utter  un- 
worthiness to  appear  in  his  presence,  we  shall  be  no  strangers  to  that 
ingenuous  shame  wliich  will  scarcely  permit  us  to  lift  up  our  eyes  to 
heaven.  Under  the  influence  of  this  principle,  we  shall  be  more  apt 
to  think  of  our  faults  than  our  virtues  ;  of  the  criminal  defects  with 
which  we  are  chargeable,  than  of  any  pretensions  to  excellence  we 
may  suppose  ourselves  to  possess. 

Our  faults  are  our  own ;  they  originate  entirely  in  ourselves  ;  to  us 
belong  all  their  demerit  and  their  shame :  while  for  whatever  inherent 
good  we  may  possess,  we  are  indebted  to  Divine  grace,  which  has 
alone  made  us  to  difler.  While  there  is  none  to  share  with  us  the 
baseness  and  turpitude  of  our  sinful  actions,  our  virtues  are  to  be  ulti- 
mately traced  to  a  source  out  of  ourselves.  Hence  whatever  is  wrong 
in  our  dispositions  and  conduct  lays  a  foundation  for  unniingled  humilia- 
tion ;  what  is  of  an  opposite  nature  supplies  no  pretext  for  uniningled 
self-complacency.  Besides,  it  requires  but  little  attention  to  perceive 
that  our  sins  admit  of  no  apology,  while  our  highest  attainments  in 
holiness  are  accompanied  by  much  imperfection :  so  that,  while  every 
pretension  to  merit  is  defeated,  our  demerits  are  real  and  substantial. 
True  humbleness  of  mind  will  dispose  us  to  form  that  correct  estimate 
of  ourselves  which  can  only  result  from  an  attention  to  the  heart,  the 


ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD.  151 

secret  movements  of  which  we  may  often  perceive  to  be  irregular  and 
depraved  where  the  external  conduct  is  correct;  and  innumerable  pol- 
lutions and  disorders  may  be  detected  there  by  Him  "  who  seeth  in 
secret,"  when  all  that  is  visible  to  man  is  innocent  and  laudable. 

Here  a  prospect  is  opened  to  the  contemplation  of  humble  piety 
which  suggests  occasion  of  abasement  and  humility  before  God,  where 
[our  friends]  see  nothing  but  matter  of  commendation  and  applause. 
It  is  this  habit  of  inspecting  the  interior  of  the  character,  and  of  carry- 
ing the  animadversions  of  conscience  to  the  inmost  thoughts  and 
imaginations  of  the  heart,  that  accounts  for  that  unfailing  lowUness  and 
humility  before  God  which  is  the  constant  appendage  of  exahed  piety, 
and  which  reconciles  the  highest  elevations  of  religion  with  the  depths 
of  self-abasement.  This  is  sufficient  to  preserve  alive  a  constant  sense 
of  deficiency  in  the  most  advanced  Christian,  of  scattering  every  idea 
of  "  having  already  attained,"  and  of  "  being  already  perfect,"  and  to 
urge  him  to  press  forward  towards  the  prize  with  unabating  ardour. 
This  was  the  spirit  of  the  great  apostle  of  the  gentiles,*  and  of  the 
most  illustrious  heroes  in  the  cause  of  Christ. 

The  self-reflective  faculty  is,  by  the  constitiuion  of  our  minds,  so 
incessantly  active,  and  the  idea  of  self  of  such  frequent  occurrence,  that 
its  effects  on  the  character  must  be  extremely  different,  according  as  it 
turns  to  the  view  its  fairest  or  its  darkest  side.  The  habit  on  which 
■we  now  speak,  of  directing  the  attention  to  criminal  defects  rather  than 
to  the  excellences  of  the  character,  is  not  only  the  dictate  of  humility, 
it  is  the  absolute  suggestion  of  prudence.  Excellences  are  not  inspired 
by  being  often  contemplated.  He  who  delights  to  survey  them  con- 
tributes nothing  by  that  exercise  to  their  prosperity  or  growth  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  will  be  tempted  to  rest  in  the  self-complacency  they  inspire, 
and  to  relax  his  efforts  for  improvement.  Their  purity  and  lustre  are 
best  preserved  in  a  state  of  seclusion  from  the  gaze  even  of  the  pos- 
sessor. But  with  respect  to  the  faults  and  imperfections  with  which 
we  are  encompassed  it  is  just  the  reverse  ; — the  more  they  are  reflected 
on,  the  more  fully  they  are  delected  and  exposed,  the  greater  is  the 
probability  that  their  growth  will  be  impeded,  and  a  virtuous  resolution 
evinced  to  extirpate  and  subdue  them.  To  think  much  upon  our  sins 
and  imperfections  is  to  turn  ourselves  to  that  quarter  in  which  our 
business  lies.  Meditating  much  on  our  virtues  and  good  deeds  is  a 
useless  occupation,  since  they  will  thrive  best  when  abandoned  to  a 
partial  oblivion. 

Some  consciousness,  indeed,  [in  the  Christian]  of  his  possessing  the 
features  of  a  renovated  mind,  and  even  of  a  progress  in  the  practice 
of  piety,  is  almost  unavoidable,  and  is  not  without  its  use,  inasmuch  as 
it  supplies  a  motive  to  gratitude  and  a  source  of  consolation ;  but  the 
moment  he  finds  himself  drawing  a  self-complacency  from  such  a  retro- 
spect, the  enlightened  Christian  is  alarmed,  nor  will  he  suffer  himself 
to  dwell  long  upon  an  object,  the  survey  of  which  is  so  replete  with 
danger.  He  hastens  to  check  himself  in  that  delusive  train  of  reflec- 
tion, and  to  recall  to  his  [mind  the  persuasion]  that  he  has  "  not  yet 

*  Phil.  iii.  12-14. 


162  ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 

attained,  nor  is  already  perfect."  The  recollection  that  he  is  a  fallen 
creature,  exposed  to  righteous  indignation — that  his  sins,  though  remit- 
ted, can  never  cease  to  be  his,  nor  to  retain  all  their  turpitude  and 
demerit — and  that  he  is,  whatever  his  attainments,  still  a  child  of  dis- 
obedience and  a  pensioner  on  mercy ; — the  constant  remembrance  of 
these  solemn  and  momentous  truths  is  sufficient  to  preserve  a  perpetual 
humiliation  in  the  sight  of  God. 

2.  HumiHty  before  God  will  have  a  beneficial  influence  on  the  mind 
in  which  divine  truth  is  contemplated,  and  its  discoveries  received.  He 
who  is  humble  before  God,  will  be  so  conscious  of  his  utter  insufficiency 
to  explain  the  mysteries  of  religion,  that  he  will  be  inexpressibly  thank- 
ful for  divine  communications.  He  will  feel  and  recognise  his  absolute 
need  of  a  guide  in  the  momentous  concerns  of  eternity.  In  the  obscu- 
rity of  reason,  heightened  by  the  perplexities  of  guilt,  he  will  distinctly 
perceive  his  entire  dependence  upon  Heaven  for  every  ray  of  informa- 
tion respecting  the  great  concern  of  reconciliation  with  the  offended 
Deity ;  and  while  he  disclaims  all  pretension  to  a  title  to  the  Divine 
favour,  he  will  be  instantly  convinced,  that  to  solve  the  problem, 
"  How  man  shall  be  just  with  God,"  must  ever  surpass  the  powers  of 
finite  reason. 

Humility  is  the  best  preparation  for  studying  the  oracles  of  God,  by 
destroying  our  confidence  in  every  other  teacher.  "  The  meek  will  he 
guide  in  judgment:  the  meek  will  he  teach  his  way."* 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  a  greater  presumption  than  those 
are  guilty  of  who  decide  beforehand  what  it  is  fit  and  proper  for  reve- 
lation to  communicate,  and  pertinaciously  reject  every  doctrine,  how- 
ever clearly  and  unequivocally  asserted,  which  is  repugnant  to  their 
previous  anticipations ; — as  though  we  possessed  some  independent 
source  of  information  sufficiently  clear  and  determinate  to  limit  and 
control  the  supernatural  suggestions  of  divine  truth.  The  supposition 
on  which  this  conduct  proceeds  is  utterly  false  and  preposterous.  In- 
dependently of  revelation,  we  have  no  data  from  which  we  can  infer 
the  purposes  of  God,  or  the  method  of  his  dealing  with  fallen  creatures. 
"For  who  hath  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord,  or,  being  his  counsellor, 
hath  instructed  him  ?"t  None  knoweth  "  the  things  of  God,  but  the 
Spirit  of  God."J: 

On  the  supposition  we  are  combating,  what  necessity  is  there  for 
revelation  at  all,  since  the  pretension  of  being  able  to  ascertain  the 
contents  of  revelation  beforehand  implies  a  previous  degree  of  know- 
ledge, which  makes  the  illumination  of  Scripture  come  too  late  ?  The 
necessity  of  revelation  is  founded  on  the  supposition  of  insuperable 
ignorance  ;  the  power  of  ascertaining  its  subsequent  discoveries  is 
founded  on  knowledge ;  and  the  two  suppositions  destroy  each  other. 

The  usual  pretence  for  rejecting  some  of  the  distinguishing  doctrines 
of  the  gospel  is,  their  mysterious  nature  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  impos- 
sibility of  comprehending  them  in  their  full  extent.  That  nothing  that 
is  repugnant  to  the  plain  dictates  of  reason  can  claim  belief  is  readily 

*  Ps.  XXV.  9.  t  Rom.  .\i.  34.    1  Cor.  ii.  16.  ?  1  Cor.  it  11. 


ON  HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD.  153 

admitted,  because  impossibilities  are  not  the  objects  of  power,  even  sup- 
posing it  to  be  infinite  ;  but  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel  are  not  of  this 
nature.  They  include,  it  is  true,  something  which  we  cannot  fully 
comprehend ;  but  they  contain  notliing  which  the  legitimate  exercise 
of  reason  perceives  to  be  absurd  :  they  surpass  the  limits  of  reason, 
without  doing  violence  to  its  dictates.  And  what  is  more  natural  to 
expect  than  that  the  communications  of  Infinite  Wisdom  should  unfold 
objects  to  our  view  which,  in  all  their  bearing  and  extent,  transcend 
the  feeble  powers  of  a  worm ;  or  that  assertions  respecting  the  mode 
of  Divine  existence  and  the  counsels  of  eternity  will  be  found  in  the 
volume  of  revelation  most  remote  from  our  previous  conjectures  ?  The 
grandeur  of  God,  the  awful,  unfatiiomable  depths  of  his  wisdom,  and 
the  mysteriousness  of  his  essence,  would  lead  rather  to  a  contrary  sup- 
position. Humility  in  the  sight  of  God  will  at  once  scatter  these 
chimeras,  and  bow  the  mind  to  the  profoundest  submission  to  Divine 
teaching.  He  who  knows  himself  will  be  prostrate  in  the  presence  of 
Infinite  Majesty,  and  say,  in  the  language  of  an  eminent  saint,  "  Speak, 
Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth."  Far  from  measuring  the  communica- 
tions of  heaven  by  the  standard  of  a  preconceived  hypothesis,  he  will 
attend  with  child-like  simplicity  to  the  oracles  of  God,  and  endeavour 
to  subject  "  every  thought  and  imagination  to  the  obedience  of  Christ." 
He  will  abandon  himself  with  the  utmost  alacrity  to  the  directions  of 
an  infallible  guide.  He  will  permit  "  the  deep  things  of  God"  to  be 
unfolded  by  that  Spirit  which  alone  is  able  to  search  them,  conscious 
that  in  the  concerns  of  eternity  "  the  foolishness  of  God  is  wiser  than 
men."* 

With  a  mind  truly  humble,  the  great  principle  which  pervades  the 
gospel  will  be  found  peculiarly  congenial ;  and  what  is  this  but  the 
principle  of  grace  ?  The  whole  system  of  the  gospel  is  emphatically 
"  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God."t  It  is  an  exhibition  of  unmerited 
favour  to  a  guilty  and  perishing  world ;  and  all  the  blessings  which  it 
proposes  to  bestow,  all  the  hopes  it  inspires,  are  ascribed  to  this  as  its 
origin.  Every  idea  of  human  desert  is  anxiously  excluded,  while  the 
whole  provision  which  it  makes  for  the  wants,  the  whole  relief  it  affords 
to  the  misery  of  man,  is  ascribed  solely  to  this  source.  To  [exhibit] 
to  the  view  "  of  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly  places"  the  riches 
of  Divine  grace  is  its  avowed  end  and  purpose.  If  he  has  "  raised  us 
up  together  with  Christ,  and  made  us  to  sit  down  with  him  in  heavenly 
places,"  it  is  "  that  he  may  show  forth  to  the  ages  to  come  the  surpass- 
ing riches  of  his  grace  in  his  kindness  towards  us  by  Jesus  Christ."J 
In  every  stage  of  the  stupendous  undertaking,  "  grace  reigns  through 
righteousness  unto  eternal  life."^ 

It  is  the  triumph  and  pre-eminence  of  grace  that  forms  the  distin- 
guishing character  of  the  Christian  system,  and  which  produces  that 
insuperable  disgust  with  which  it  is  contemplated  by  those  who,  "  going 
about  to  establish  their  own  righteousness,  refuse  to  submit  themselves, 
unto  the  righteousness  of  God."  Hence  the  attempts  are  in  many 
instances  too  successful  which  are  daily  witnessed  to  disguise  this  its 

*  1  Cor.  i.  25.  t  Acts  XX.  24.  t  EpUes.  u.  6,  7.  5  Rom.  v.  21. 


154  ON  PATIENCE. 

obnoxious  feature,  and  by  certain  extenuations  and  refinements  to  ac- 
commodate it  to  the  pride  of  the  sinful  and  unsanctified  heart.  Hence 
the  deplorable  infatuation  of  multitudes,  who  choose  rather  to  perish  m 
their  sin  than  to  be  so  entirely  and  deeply  indebted  to  unmerited  favour 
as  the  system  of  the  gospel  implies.  But  to  a  mind  truly  humbled 
nothing  is  more  welcome,  nothing  is  more  delightful,  than  the  contem- 
plation of  revealed  truth  under  this  aspect.  To  feel  himself  under  an 
unutterable  obligation  is  no  oppressive  load,  from  which  the  contrite  in 
heart  is  anxious  to  be  released.  He  cheerfully  takes  his  proper  place  ; 
loves  to  sink  into  the  lowest  depths  of  self-abasement ;  and  values  the 
blessings  of  salvation  infinitely  more  for  that  *  * 


XXXI. 
ON    PATIENCE. 

Heb.  X.  36. — Ye  have  need  of  patience. 

This  epistle  was  evidently  directed  to  persons  in  a  state  of  calamity 
and  suffering,  and  contemplates  its  readers  under  that  aspect.  It  was 
addressed  to  Jewish  converts,  who  suffered  from  the  rancorous  bigotry 
and  malice  of  their  countrymen,  who,  in  the  commencement  of  Chris- 
tianity, were  its  most  violent  and  formidable  persecutors.  It  attaches 
to  some  remarkable  period  of  persecution  which  they  had  sustained 
immediately  on  their  professing  the  gospel.  "  But  call  to  remembrance 
the  former  days,  in  which,  after  ye  were  illuminated,  ye  endured  a 
great  fight  of  afflictions,  partly ;  while  ye  were  made  a  gazing- 
stock  both  by  reproaches  and  afflictions,  and  pai-tly,  while  ye  became 
companions  of  them  that  were  so  used."*  In  this  trial  they  had 
conducted  themselves  with  great  constancy  and  firmness,  "  taking 
joyfully  the  spoiling  of  tlieir  goods."  Hence  the  apostle  takes  occasion 
to  admonish  them  still  to  persevere  in  the  hope  and  profession  of  the 
gospel,  intimating  they  were  not  to  expect  an  exemption  from  future 
trials.     "  Ye  have  need  of  patience." 

The  state  of  Christianity,  in  every  age,  has  called  for  the  exercise 
and  cultivation  of  this  grace.  It  is  a  quality  in  the  composition  of  a 
Christian  which  is  never  unnecessary,  as  he  must  not  expect  long  to 
be  in  a  situation  where  its  exertion  is  not  demanded. 

I.  The  circumstances  of  Christians  are  often  such  as  to  render  its 
exercise  indispensably  requisite,  if  they  would  glorify  God,  by  evincing 
a  suitable  spirit  and  conduct. 

1.  The  trials  which  good  men  are  called  to  endure  are  often  very 

•Heb.  X.  32,  33. 


ON  PATIENCE.  155 

severe.  They  have  their  full  share  in  the  ordinary  ills  of  life  ;  besides 
trials  which  are  peculiar  to  themselves,  arising  out  of  the  nature  of 
the  Christian  profession.  On  many  of  them  poverty  presses  with  an 
accumulated  weight. 

They  find  it  difficult,  or  impossible,  with  all  the  exertions  they  can 
make,  to  procure  an  adequate  provision  of  the  necessaries  of  life  for 
themselves  and  families.  They  are  obliged  to  content  themselves 
with  a  scanty  and  insufficient  diet,  with  clothing  insufficient  to  protect 
them  from  the  inclemencies  of  the  season,  which  is  sometimes 
aggravated  by  the  state  of  their  health  being  such  as  calls  for  certain 
comforts  and  indulgences,  which  it  is  out  of  their  power  to  procure. 
Their  subsistance  is  precarious  ;  so  that  when  they  rise  in  the  morning 
they  have  no  certainty  of  being  able  to  provide  for  the  day  that  is 
passing  over  them;  which  is  enough  to  overcast  the  mind  with  anxious 
and  dismal  forebodings.  They  could  endure  hardships  themselves 
perhaps  with  tolerable  composure ;  but  it  is  distressing  to  see  the 
helpless  and  innocent  babes  asking,  with  imploring  looks,  for  that 
relief  from  hunger  which  they  are  unable  to  supply.  How  many  a 
pious  head  of  a  family,  in  this  and  in  almost  every  other  country, 
is  placed,  at  this  moment,  in  these  afflicting  circumstances !  and, 
surely,  it  will  be  readily  acknowledged  that  such  "  have  need  of 
patience." 

-2.  The  trials  under  which  many  of  the  people  of  God  are  labouring 
are  various  and  complicated  :  a  confluence  of  afflictions  meet  together, 
and  heighten  and  exasperate  each  other.  The  evils  of  poverty  are 
aggravated  by  sickness  and  bodily  pain ;  a  constitution  broken  down 
with  the  weight  of  years  and  infirmities  is  added  to  domestic  trials  and 
disappointments  the  most  difficult  to  sustain.  Those  from  whom 
assistance  was  expected  become  cool  and  indiffisrent,  perhaps  hostile  ; 
and  the  anguish  arising  from  confidence  betrayed,  and  friendship 
violated,  is  added  to  every  other  evil.  Thus  David,  in  his  old  age, 
when  his  natural  strength  was  much  abated,  had  to  struggle  with  the 
unnatural  rebellion  of  his  son,  and  with  the  treacherous  desertion  of 
some  of  his  most  intimate  and  endeared  friends,  those  with  whom  he 
had  often  taken  sweet  counsel,  and  gone  to  the  house  of  God  in  com- 
pany. "  Had  it  been  an  enemy  I  could  have  borne  it,  but  it  was  thou, 
mine  equal  and  my  guide."  When  he  had  reason  to  hope  he  had 
surmounted  his  difficulties,  and  by  great  exertion  and  resolution  weath- 
ered the  storms  of  life,  and  was  about  to  enter  into  a  peaceful  harbour,  a 
sudden  hurricane  arose,  which  drove  him  back  into  the  ocean,  and 
threatened  him  with  total  destruction.  Job,  in  like  manner,  was  visited 
with  stroke  upon  stroke  :  first  his  property  was  torn  from  him,  then 
his  children,  then  his  health  ;  lastly,  the  friends  from  whom  he  expected 
support  and  consolation  turned  his  enemies  and  accusers.  As  he  had 
great  need  of  patience,  so  his  exemplification  of  it,  though  far  from 
being  perfect,  was  such  as  to  render  his  name  illustrious  through 
every  succeeding  age. 

3.  When  heavy  and  complicated  trials  are  of  long  continuance, — 
when,  after  enduring  them  long,  no  prospect  of  deliverance  appears,  no 


166  ON  PATIENCE. 

mitigation  is  experienced, — when  there  is  none  who  can  venture  to 
set  a  period  to  calamities, — tliis  is  a  circumstance  that  puts  patience  to 
the  severest  test.  It  is  much  easier  to  bear  a  very  acute  pain  or  affliction 
for  a  short  time,  than  one  much  more  moderate  during  a  very  protracted 
period.  Tlie  duration  of  trials  is  a  severer  exercise  of  patience  than 
their  severity.  For  a  certain  time  the  soul  collects  itself,  and  sum- 
mons up  its  resolution  to  bear ;  but  when  the  sufiering  continues  long, 
the  mind  becomes  weary  of  exerting  a  continued  eflbrt  and  is  apt  to 
yield  to  the  force  of  impatience  and  inquietude.  In  these  several  situ- 
ations the  Christian  has  need  of  patience. 

II.  Let  us  consider  the  nature  and  the  excellence  of  true  patience. 
It  is  a  grace  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  God  condescends  to  be  called  the 
"  God  of  patience ;"  and  [we  read  of]  "  the  kingdom  [and  patience] 
of  [Jesus]  Christ," — [of]  "  the  word  of  his  patience."  By  means  of 
it  they  who  suffer  possess  their  souls.  Another  intention  of  this 
passage  it  is  not  necessary  to  mention:  the  present  [being]  instructive, 
and  sufficiently  adapted  to  the  apparent  design  of  the  writer. 

[There  is]  a  great  difference  in  the  manner  in  which  the  same  trials 
are  borne  by  difi'erent  persons : — some  restless,  complaining,  dissat- 
isfied with  the  conduct  of  Providence,  and  at  all  around  them  ;  others, 
though  they  feel,  are  yet  composed,  tranquil,  self-possessed,  capable  of 
exercising  their  thoughts,  and  of  exerting  their  reason,  without  disturb- 
ance— they  "  possess  their  souls."  The  happy  eflects  of  this  frame 
of  spirit  are  the  following  : — 

1.  He  who  in  "patience  possesses  his  soul"  is  able  to  trace  his 
afflictions  to  the  hand  of  God  ;  looking  through  inferior  instruments  to 
the  hand  of  the  Supreme  Director. 

2.  He  is  prevented  from  forming  an  erroneous  and  exaggerated 
estimate  of  his  sufferings  ;  from  his  suspecting  that  they  are  singular 
and  unparalleled  ;  and  thus  from  sinking  into  despondency,  and  indulg- 
ing a  spirit  of  complaint ;  "  knowing  that  the  same  afflictions  are 
accomplished  in  your  brethren  that  are  in  the  world." 

3.  He  is  at  leisure  to  [attend]  to  the  instructions  which  afflictiens 
contain,  to  learn  those  important  lessons  which  they  are  best  adapted 
to  teach.  Affliction  is  a  school  where  we  cannot  learn,  unless  we,  in 
some  degree,  possess  our  souls  in  patience.  "  Thou  shalt  also  con- 
sider in  tliine  heart,  that  as  a  man  chasteneth  his  son,  so  the  Lord  thy 
God  chasteneth  thee.  "  And  he  humbled  thee,  and  suffered  thee  to 
hunger,  and  fed  thee  with  manna,  which  thou  knewest  not,  neither  did 
thy  fathers  know  ;  that  he  might  make  thee  know  that  man  doth  not 
live  by  bread  only,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord  doth  man  live.  Thy  raiment  waxed  not  old  upon 
thee,  neither  did  thy  foot  swell,  these  forty  years.* 

4.  He  who  possesses  his  soul  in  patience  is  able  to  perform  many 
important  duties  while  in  a  state  of  suffering.  It  is  not  a  barren  season 
to  him.  "  Blessed  are  ye  that  sow  beside  all  waters,  that  send  forth 
thither  the  feet  of  the  ox  and  the  ass."t  Much  cultivation  of  the  heart, 
much  internal  spiritual  discipline,  may  then  be  exercised. 

*  Dcut.  viii.  3,  4,  5.  t  Isaiah  xxxii.  20. 


ON  CANDOUR  AND  LIBERALITY.  157 

5.  He  who  thus  possesses  patience  is  at  liberty  to  reach  the  prom- 
ises of  God  to  open  his  mind  to  the  consolations  of  the  gospel.  He 
can  reason  with  his  soul — "Why  art  thou  so  cast  down,  O  my  soul?" 

6.  While  in  patience  we  possess  our  souls,  we  can  expatiate  in  the 
views  of  future  blessedness. 


XXXII. 

ON  CANDOUR  AND  LIBERALITY,  AS  EVINCED  IN  PROMO- 
TING THE  ERECTION  OF  PLACES  OF  WORSHIP. 

Luke  vii.  5. — He  loveth  our  nation,  and  he  hath  built  us  a  synagogue.* 

It  is  pleasing  and  instructive  to  behold  in  the  narratives  of  Scrip- 
ture frequent  instances  of  the  triumphs  of  divine  grace  over  obstacles 
utterly  insurmountable  to  any  inferior  power,  and  even  striking  examples 
of  transcendent  piety,  where,  considering  the  actual  state  of  human 
nature,  it  was  least  to  be  expected.  In  these  instances  is  verified 
the  truth  of  our  Lord's  observation,  "  What  is  impossible  with  men  is 
possible  with  God." 

We  learn  that  no  combination  of  external  circumstances,  no  pro- 
fession or  situation  in  life,  however  beset  with  temptation,  no  education, 
however  unfavourable  to  the  production  of  piety,  ought  to  make  us 
despair  of  attaining  salvation. 

Are  the  habits  of  military  life  peculiarly  hostile  to  piety,  and  is  it 
difficult,  in  connexion  with  these,  to  maintain  that  humility,  sobriety, 
and  heavenly-mindedness,  which  are  so  essential  to  religion  ?  Our 
text  exhibits,  notwithstanding,  a  most  eminent  saint  in  the  person  of  a 
centurion.  Is  a  neglected  or,  what  is  still  worse,  a  perverted  education 
a  great  obstacle  in  tlie  way  of  salvation, — an  education  from  which 
rehgion  has  been  entirely  excluded,  or  religious  principles  inculcated, 
the  most  fatal  and  erroneous  ?     Behold  an  instance  of  unparalleled 

*  The  sermon  of  which  the  brief  notes  are  here  presented  was  the  last,  except  one,  that  Mr. 
Hall  preached  ;  though  the  notes  seem  to  have  been  prepared  for  a  former  occasion.  It  was  delivered 
on  the  morning  of  February  27,  1831,  the  ."^unday  previous  to  the  attack  which  terminated  in  death. 
The  students  in  the  Bristol  Education  Society  (an  institution  devoted  to  the  preparation  of  young 
men  for  the  ministry  in  the  Baptist  persuasion)  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  preaching  in 
various  very  small  places,  in  the  more  populous  and  wretched  quarters  of  the  city  of  Bristol  ;  and 
their  labours  being  Ibund  productive  of  much  good,  it  was  judged  expedient  to  ert-ct  a  place  of 
worship,  which  might  not  only  contain  the  several  small  companies  thus  assembled,  but  accom- 
modate others  that  might  be  induced  to  attend.  A  considerable  sum  of  money  was  accordingly 
raised  for  I  his  purpose:  the  building  was  commenced;  and  in  order  to  contribute  towards  the 
remainder  of  the  expense,  it  was  proposed  to  make  a  collec'ion  in  Broadmead  chapel.  Mr.  Hall 
very  warmly  seconded  the  project,  and  recommended  it,  with  great  earnestness,  after  his  morning 
sermon.  In  the  evening  he  preached  a  very  impressive  and  splendid  discour-se  on  the  text^ 
"  Take  heed,  and  beware  of  covetousness,"  of  which  he  does  not  appear  to  have  prepared  any  notes. 
This  subject  he  meant  to  apply  to  the  case  of  the  new  place  of  worship;  but  an  exceedingly  heavy 
rain  occasioning  a  compar.itively  small  congregation,  he  stated,  towards  the  conclusion  of  the 
sermon,  that  it  would  not  be  doing  justice  to  a  cause  in  which  he  felt  so  lively  an  interest,  to  maka 
the  collection  while  so  few  persons  were  pre.sent ;  and  proposed  to  defer  it,  therefore,  to  a  future 
occasion.  But,  alas  1  this  was  the  c'ose  of  his  public  services:  and  they  who  had  so  often  seen 
his  countenance  beaming  with  intellect,  benevolence,  and  piety,  and  listened  to  his  voice  with  inex- 
pressible delight,  and  many  of  them  with  permanent  benefit,  saw  and  heard  him  no  more  !— Ej». 


158  THE  CANDOUR  AND  LIBERALITY 

devotion  and  faith  in  a  Roman  centurion,  a  heathen  by  birth,  and,  as 
there  is  every  reason  to  conclude,  trained  up  in  the  practice  of  idolatry 
from  his  earliest  infancy.  Is  the  possession  of  authority  apt  to  intoxicate 
man  with  pride,  and  especially  in  proportion  as  that  authority  is  arbi- 
trary and  despotic  ?  We  have  here,  in  a  Roman  officer,  a  pattern  of 
the  deepest  humility.  Having  occasion  to  apply  to  our  Lord  for  the 
cure  of  his  servant,  he  would  not  admit  of  his  giving  himself  the  trouble 
of  coming  in  person,  from  a  conviction  that  it  was  unnecessary,  and 
that  he  was  undeserving  of  such  honour.  Finally,  are  mankind  apt 
to  be  ill  affected  to  each  other  on  account  of  difference  of  national 
character,  and  the  opposition  which  [exists  in  their  religion?]  The 
opposition,  in  this  respect,  between  the  Romans  and  the  Jews  was  as 
great  as  can  well  be  imagined.  The  Romans  were  devoted  to  idolatry, 
and  looked  upon  the  Jews,  who  refused  to  join  in  the  worship  of  idols, 
as  a  sort  of  atheists ;  they  hated  them  for  their  singularity  and  their 
supposed  unnatural  antipathy  to  all  other  nations  ;  and,  at  this  time, 
despised  them  as  a  conquered  people.  The  centurion,  though  he  had 
been  nursed  in  these  prejudices,  and  was  now,  by  very  profession, 
employed  in  maintaining  the  Roman  authority  over  Judea,  yet  "  loved 
the  Jewish  nation,  built  them  a  synagogue,"  and  sought  an  interest  in 
the  affections  of  that  people ;  so  that  the  Jewish  elders,  sympathizing 
with  him  under  his  distress,  are  the  bearers  of  his  message  to  our  Lord. 

Let  us  attend  to  the  hints  of  instruction  suggested  by  the  character 
which  they  here  give  of  the  centurion. 

L  "  He  loveth  our  nation." 

We  have  already  remarked  the  superiority  to  prejudice  which  this 
trait  in  his  character  implies.  We  now  observe,  his  attachment  to  the 
Jewish  nation  rested  on  solid  grounds ;  it  was  such  an  attaclnnent  that 
it  was  next  to  impossible  for  a  good  man  not  to  feel.  The  Jews  were 
the  only  people  in  the  world,  before  the  coming  of  Christ,  who  were 
taken  into  an  express  covenant  with  God.  To  them  he  stood  in  a 
relation  different  from  that  which  he  sustained  towards  any  other 
people.  He  was  their  proper  national  head  and  king.  The  covenant 
on  which  he  became  so  was  entered  into  at  Mount  Sinai,  when  Jehovah 
descended  in  a  visible  manner,  uttered  his  laws  in  an  audible  voice, 
and,  by  the  express  consent  of  the  people,  communicated  to  Moses 
those  statutes  and  ordinances  which  were  ever  after  to  form  the  basis 
of  their  polity,  civil  and  religious,  and  a  perpetual  barrier  of  separation 
between  them  and  other  nations.  Conducted  by  a  train  of  the  most 
astonishing  miracles  to  the  land  of  Canaan,  God  was  pleased  to  dwell 
among  them  by  a  miraculous  symbol,  and  to  make  them  the  depositaries 
of  true  religion.  Thus  the  will  of  (lod  was  known  and  his  worship 
celebrated,  while  surrounding  nations  were  sunk  in  the  deepest  igno- 
rance. A  succession  of  prophets  was  raised  up  at  different  periods ; 
a  body  of  inspired  truths  was  communicated ;  a  peculiar  system  of 
providence  established,  as  far  as  their  affairs  were  concerned  ;  find  a 
series  of  predictions  preserved,  by  whicii  an  expectation  was  excited 
of  the  appearance  of  a  divine  person  of  their  race,  who  was  to  be  the 
"  light  of  the  gentiles,"  "  the  glory  of  Israel,"  the  person  in  whom 


OF  THE  CENTURION  RECOMMENDED.  I59 

"  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to  be  blessed,"  These  high  privi- 
leges and  prerogatives  are  thus  enumerated  by  St.  Paul :  "  Who  am 
an  Israelite,  of  whom  is  the  adoption,  and  the  glory,  and  the  covenants, 
and  the  giving  of  the  law  and  the  promises  ;  whose  are  the  fathers,  and 
of  whom  as  concerning  the  flesh  Christ  came,  who  is  God  over  all 
blessed  for  evermore." 

As  the  centurion  derived  his  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being  from 
the  Jews,  either  by  conversing  with  them  or  attending  [their  worship,] 
he  necessarily  felt  himself  attached  to  that  nation. 

Religious  benefits,  as  they  are  incomparably  superior  to  all  others, 
lay  a  foundation  for  the  strongest  attachment  among  men.  If  we  are 
taught  rightly  to  appreciate  spiritual  favours,  we  shall  feel  veneration 
and  respect  for  those  who,  under  Hod,  have  been  the  instruments  of 
conveying  them  to  us,  far  superior  to  what  we  feel  towards  any  other 
persons. 

To  love  the  Jewish  nation  is  still  a  natural  dictate  of  piety.  To  that 
nation  we  are  indebted  for  the  records  of  inspiration,  and  the  light  of  the 
gospel ;  for  the  men  who,  under  the  direction  of  the  Spirit,  composed 
the  former  and  published  the  latter  among  the  pagans  were  all  Jews. 
Moses  and  the  prophets,  Christ  and  his  apostles,  let  it  be  remembered, 
were  Jews  ;  and  though  the  Israelitish  race  are  for  the  present  suf- 
fering the  vengeance  of  the  Almighty  for  rejecting  the  Messiah,  the 
blessings  yet  in  reserve  for  them,  to  be  bestowed  at  a  future  season, 
are  great  and  signal.  Separated  for  a  time  from  the  church  of  God 
for  their  unbelief,  the  period  of  their  exaltation  is  deferred,  but  their 
glory  is  not  extinguished  :  "•  As  concerning  the  gospel,  they  are  enemies 
for  your  sakes  ;  but  as  touching  the  election,  they  are  beloved  for  their 
fathers'  sakes.  For  the  gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without  repentance." 
They  are  the  seed  of  a  glorious  church,  the  stock  of  which  remains  in 
the  earth ;  but  which,  at  a  future  time,  will  revive  and  flourish  in  the 
beauty  of  holiness,  and  send  forth  its  branches  to  the  end  of  the  earth. 
Though  they  have  long  lain  "  in  the  valley  of  vision  till  their  bones 
are  become  very  dry,"  yet  the  Lord  in  his  own  time,  and  that  not  a 
remote  one,  will  "  call  to  the  four  winds,  the  Spirit  of  God  will  revive 
them,  their  sinews  will  come  upon  their  flesh,  will  cover  them,  and 
they  shall  live."  As  the  Jews  were  the  first  instruments  in  converting 
the  nations  to  the  faith  of  Jesus,  so,  we  doubt  not,  it  is  to  them  the 
honour  is  reserved  of  the  final  and  universal  propagation  of  the  gospel : 
for  "  if  the  fall  of  them  be  the  riches  of  the  world,  and  the  diminishing 
of  them  the  riches  of  the  gentiles,  how  much  more  their  fulness  ?" 
On  this  account,  when  we  behold  the  miserable  outcasts  of  the  Jewish 
nation,  it  is  natural  and  proper  for  us  to  feel  in  a  manner  similar  to 
what  we  are  accustomed  to  do  on  beholding  a  prince  in  exile  and 
captivity,  with  the  difference  which  arises  from  the  certainty  of  their 
being  restored  to  more  than  their  former  splendour ;  "  when  the  De- 
liverer shall  come  from  Sion,  and  shall  turn  away  ungodliness  from 
Jacob." 

Was  the  Jewish  nation  an  object  of  respect  to  the  devout  worshipper 
of  God  ?    How  much  more  are  the  servants  of  Christ  entitled  to  the  same 


160  THE  CANDOUR  AND  LIBERALITY 

respect !  The  servants  of  Christ  are  "  the  true  circumcision,  who 
worship  God  in  the  Spirit,  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  have  no  confi- 
dence in  the  flesh."  They  succeeded  to  the  spiritual  privileges  of  the 
Jewish  church,  and  enjoy  them  in  a  still  higher  degree.  They  are  the 
salt  of  the  earth ;  they  are,  through  the  illuminations  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness,  the  "  light  of  the  world,"  the  "  city  set  on  a  hill,  which 
cannot  be  hid." 

The  love  of  God  will  never  fail  to  manifest  itself,  by  saving  those, 
in  every  sect  and  denomination,  who  appear  to  be  partakers  of  his 
holiness.  "Everyone  that  loveth  him  that  begat,  loveth  him  also  that 
is  begotten  of  him."  With  all  their  imperfections,  true  Christians  will 
invariably  be  esteemed  by  a  good  man  as  the  excellent  of  the  earth. 

Having  contemplated  thp  attachment  which  the  centurion  displayed 
to  the  people  of  God,  let  us  next  consider  in  what  manner  his  attach- 
ment was  evinced.  It  was  not  an  empty  profession,  productive  of  no 
fruit. 

II.  He  "  hath  built  us  a  synagogue."  The  original  words  are  more 
emphatic :  "  It  is  he  who  built  us  a  synagogue.^''  Synagogues  were 
places  of  worship,  where  the  Jews  were  wont  to  assemble  on  their 
Sabbath,  to  hear  the  law  and  the  prophets  read  and  interpreted,  ac- 
companied with  suitable  exhortations  to  the  people,  and  to  present 
prayer  and  praise  to  God.  Wherever  ten  Jews  resided  who  were  at 
leisure  to  attend  the  worship  of  God  at  ordinary  times,  as  well  as  on 
the  Sabbath,  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  Jewish  rabbles  a  Synagogue 
ought  to  be  erected.  Thither  the  people  resorted,  not  only  to  hear  the 
law,  but  also  to  ofl'er  up  their  supplications  ;  the  times  of  prayer,  which 
were  at  nine  in  the  morning,  at  noon,  and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
corresponding  to  the  times  of  presenting  the  morning  and  evening 
incense.  These  buddings  for  public  worship  were  very  much  multi- 
plied :  at  Jerusalem  there  were  many  hundreds  of  them  ;  at  Alexandria 
they  were  also  prodigiously  numerous  ;  and  there  was  scarcely  a  town 
where  any  number  of  Jews  resided  where  there  was  not  one  or  more. 
They  were  governed  by  a  council  of  elders,  over  whom  presided  an 
officer  called  the  angel  of  the  synagogue,  whence  the  tide  of  angel  is 
supposed  to  be  given  in  the  Revelation  to  the  presiding  elder  or  bishop 
in  the  Christian  church. 

In  each  synagogue  a  discipline  was  established  for  the  support  of 
purity  of  manners :  and  punishments  were  sometimes  inflicted  on 
notorious  transgressors  of  the  law.  Thus  we  read  of  Saul,  afterward 
named  Paul,  scourging  men  and  women  in  the  synagogues. 

These  places  of  worship  are  supposed  to  have  taken  rise  among  the 
Jews  after  the  return  from  the  Babylonish  captivity ;  at  least,  we  find 
no  distinct  traces  of  them  before,  though  it  was  customary,  even  in 
the  days  of  Elisha,  to  resort  for  instruction  to  the  prophets,  on  the  new 
moons  and  the  Sabbaths. 

They  were  a  most  important  appendage  to  the  temple-worship,  and 
a  principal  cause  of  preventing  the  Israelites  from  relapsing  into  idolatry, 
to  which  they  were  before  so  strongly  addicted.  Instead  of  assembling 
at  Jerusalem  three  times  a  year,  where   no  public  instruction  was 


OF  THE  CENTURION  RECOMMENDED.  181 

delivered,  but  sacrifices  and  offerings  only  presented  by  the  priest,  the 
people,  by  means  of  synagogues,  had  an  opportunity  of  listening  to 
the  writings  of  Moses  and  the  prophets  every  Sabbath-day,  the  officii 
ating  ministers  publicly  harangued  the  people,  and  the  persons  who 
frequented  the  synagogue  were  united  in  religious  society.  Whde  the 
temple-service  was  admirably  adapted  to  preserve  the  union  of  the 
nation,  and  to  prevent  innovations  in  the  public  solemnities  of  religion, 
the  synagogues  were  equally  calculated  for  an  increase  of  personal 
piety,  and  to  perpetuate  in  the  minds  of  the  people  the  knowledge  of 
revealed  truth.  After  these  were  established,  degenerate  as  the  sons 
of  Israel  became,  we  never  read  of  their  relapsing  into  idolatry.  The 
denunciations  of  the  law  were  so  often  thundered  in  their  ears,  the 
calamities  which  their  fathers  had  suffered  for  this  offence  were  too 
familiar  to  their  recollection,  ever  to  allow  them  thus  "  to  tempt  the 
Lord  to  jealousy." 

There  is  undoubtedly  a  great  resemblance  between  the  edifices 
erected  for  public  worship  among  us  and  those  of  the  Jews.  They 
appear  to  me  to  bear  a  much  greater  analogy  to  the  synagogues  than 
to  the  temple.  The  temple  was  a  single  building,  which  the  Israelites 
were  forbidden  to  multiply,  it  being  designed  to  be  a  centre  of  union  to 
the  whole  nation,  as  well  as  the  immediate  seat  of  the  Divine  presence, 
•vyhich  was  confined  to  that  spot :  synagogues  might  be  built  at  pleasure, 
and  were  spread  over  the  whole  land.  The  very  idea  of  a  temple  is 
that  of  an  immediate  habitation  of  the  Deity,  who  manifests  himself 
there  in  a  supernatural  manner,  or,  at  least,  is  believed  so  to  do  by  his 
votaries.  In  the  heathen  temples,  after  they  were  duly  consecrated, 
the  gods  in  whose  honour  they  were  erected  were  supposed  to  take 
an  immediate  and  preternatural  possession  of  them.  What  was  mere 
pretence  or  delusion  among  the  heathen  was  at  the  temple  of  Jerusa- 
lem an  awful  reality  :  the  Lord  visibly  "dwelt  between  the  cherubim.'* 
In  places  set  apart  for  Christian  worship,  there  were  no  such  visible 
tokens  of  the  presence  of  God.  The  manner  of  his  presence  is  spirit- 
ual, not  local ;  he  dwells  in  the  hearts  of  his  worshippers.  St.  Stephen 
taught  the  Jewish  nation,  that  it  was  one  of  the  distinctions  of  the 
Christian  dispensation  that  the  Highest  no  longer  "  dwelleth  in  temples 
made  with  hands."  An  altar,  a  sacrifice,  and  a  priest  were  the  necessary 
appendages  of  the  temple.  But,  among  Christians,  we  have  no  altar 
so  called  but  the  cross  ;  no  priest  but  the  Son  of  God,  who  remaineth 
"  a  priest  for  ever ;"  and  no  sacrifice  but  the  sacrifice  "  once  offered 
for  the  sins  of  the  world."  The  priestly  ofiice  of  Christ  put  an  end 
to  the  typical  priesthood  of  the  sons  of  Aaron.  It  is  an  everlasting 
priesthood,  and  admits  of  no  rival  or  substitute.  In  popular  language, 
indeed,  we  give  the  appellation  to  that  order  of  men  who  are  set  apart 
to  minister  in  sacred  things ;  and  it  is  of  no  consequence,  providing  we 
recollect  that  it  is  but  figurative  language,  not  designed  to  be  rigorously 
exact :  for  the  apostolic  definition  of  a  priest,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word,  is  one  "  taken  from  among  men,  and  ordained  for  men  in  things 
pertaining  to  God,  that  may  offer  both  gifts  and  sacrifices  for  sins." 
In  the  temple-service  no  provision  was  made  for  the  regular  instruction 

Vol.  III.— L 


162  THE    CANDOUR  AND  LIBERALITY 

of  the  people  in  the  principles  of  religion  beyond  what  the  more  serious 
attention  might  call  out  from  the  typical  import  of  its  services,  which 
were  indeed  "  a  shadow  of  good  things  to  come,"  and  obscurely  pointed 
to  the  Saviour.  It  was  erected  as  a  place  of  national  rendezvous, 
where  God  gave  audience  to  the  people  as  their  temporal  sovereign, 
and  received  their  sin-offerings  and  peace-offerings,  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  their  offences  and  tokens  of  their  allegiance.  The  ceremonial 
institution  was  then  in  the  highest  degree  pompous  and  splendid. 
Synagogues  were  established,  it  has  already  been  observed,  for  the 
worship  of  individuals,  for  the  instruction  of  the  people  in  religious 
principles,  and  for  the  exercise  of  prayer  and  devotion  every  Sabbath, 
as  well  as  on  other  suitable  occasions.  The  mode  of  worship  was 
plain  and  simple,  and  more  corresponding  to  the  genius  of  Christianity. 

To  this  we  must  add,  that  the  platform  of  the  church  was  framed, 
in  a  great  measure,  on  the  plan  of  the  Jewish  synagogues,  as  is  gene- 
rally acknowledged  by  the  most  learned  men.  The  Scriptures  were 
read  and  interpreted  in  both,  which  was  the  origin  of  preaching ; 
prayer  was  addressed  to  God  in  the  name  of  the  congregation ;  each 
was  governed  by  a  council  of  elders,  over  which  one  presided,  which 
gave  birth  to  the  title  of  bishops ;  and  irregularities  of  conduct  and 
errors  in  doctrine  were  the  subjects  of  censure  and  animadversion. 
Excommunication  in  the  Christian  church  was  similar  in  its  effects  to 
an  expulsion  from  the  synagogue.  So  great  was  the  resemblance  be- 
tween Christian  assemblies  and  synagogues,  that  they  are  sometimes, 
in  Scripture,  used  as  synonymous  terms.  "  If  there  come  into  your 
assembly,"  says  St.  James,  "  a  man  with  a  gold  ring,  or  goodly  appa- 
rel :"  in  the  original  it  is  synagogue.  We  need  not  be  surprised  at 
that  close  analogy  we  have  traced,  when  we  reflect  that  the  first  con- 
verts to  Christianity  were  principally  Jews,  who,  incorporating  them- 
selves into  societies,  adopted,  as  far  as  they  were  permitted  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  the  usages  and  forms  to  which  they  had  so  long  been  accus- 
tomed. 

III.  The  passage  which  is  the  ground  of  this  discourse  represents 
the  conduct  of  the  centurion  as  highly  praiseworthy  and  exemplary. 
"  He  is  worthy,"  say  the  Jewish  elders,  "  for  whom  thou  shouldst  do 
this ;  for  he  loveth  our  nation,  and  hath  built  us  a  synagogue." 

To  assist  in  the  erection  of  places  of  worship,  providing  it  proceed 
from  right  motives,  is  unquestionably  an  acceptable  service  to  the 
Most  High.  Whatever  extends  his  worship,  in  facilitating  the  means 
of  it,  is  directly  calculated  to  promote  his  glory  and  the  salvation  of 
men,  with  whicli  the  worship  is  inseparably  connected.  The  service 
and  worship  of  God  is  the  very  end  of  our  creation ;  the  perfection  of 
it  constitutes  the  glory  of  heaven ;  and  its  purity  and  spirituality,  in 
whatever  degree  they  subsist,  are  the  chief  ornaments  of  earth. 

The  increase  of  places  dedicated  to  public  worship  ought  surely  to 
be  no  matter  of  lamentation  or  offence.  They  are  rendered  necessary 
by  the  increase  of  i)(>pulation.  It  is  this  which  renders  that  accom- 
modation quite  inade(iuatc  at  present  vvhich  was  sufficient  in  former 
times.     The  edifices  devoted  to  the  established  religion  in  our  country 


OF  THE  CENTURION  RECOMMENDED.  ig$ 

are  plainly  too  few,  and  the  accommodation  afforded  to  the  poor  espe- 
cially too  scanty,  were  the  people  ever  so  well  disposed,  to  accom- 
modate all  who  might  wish  to  resort  to  them.  Were  I  to  advance  this 
on  my  own  [authority,]  I  am  well  aware  it  would  be  entitled  to  little 
weight.  I  must  be  allowed  to  corroborate  it  by  the  testimony  of  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  ornaments  of  the  Church  of  England,  a  cler- 
gyman, a  man  of  elevated  rank,  of  enlarged  and  profound  observation, 
and  of  exalted  piety,  who  notices  this  evil  in  the  following  terms  : — 
"  Where  are  the  poor  in  our  large  towns,  where  are  the  poor  in  the 
metropolis  to  find  room  ?  One  of  the  consequences  obviously  resulting 
from  this  deficiency,  wherever  it  subsists,  of  accommodation  in  a  paro- 
chial church  for  the  poor  is  this,  that  they  are  reduced  to  the  alter- 
native of  frequenting  no  place  of  worship,  or  of  uniting  themselves 
with  some  of  the  Methodists  or  dissenters.  Each  branch  of  the  alter- 
native has  been  adopted  within  my  knowledge.  That  those  who 
cannot  obtain  admittance  into  our  places  of  worship  should  frequent 
the  religious  assemblies  of  some  of  our  brethren  in  Christ  who  differ 
from  us,  ought  to  be  a  subject  of  thankfulness  to  ourselves.  But  are 
We  justified  in  driving  them  from  truth  which  we  regard  as  simple,  and 
as  taught  under  very  favourable  circumstances,  to  truth  blended  with 
error,  or  presented  under  circumstances  of  disadvantage  ?"  The  pre- 
ference this  writer  avows  for  his  own  denomination  is  such  as  becomes 
every  honest  man ;  while  the  favourable  opinion  he  avows  of  the 
designs  of  others  does  honour  to  his  head  and  heart. 

Till  the  legislature  will  exert  itself,  by  adopting  some  effectual 
measure  for  the  more  extensive  accommodation  of  the  people  in  paro- 
chial churches,  no  enlightened  friend  of  religion  will  complain  of  the 
supply  of  this  deficiency  by  the  exertions  of  persons  out  of  the  pale 
of  the  establishment.  It  is  above  all  things  necessary  to  the  welfare 
of  the  state,  to  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  the  glory  of  God,  that  public 
■worship  should  be  supported  and  upheld :  in  what  edifices,  or  with 
what  forms,  providing  heresy  and  idolatry  are  excluded,  is  a  consider- 
ation of  inferior  moment.  We  do  not  differ  from  our  brethren  in  the 
establishment  in  essentials  ;  we  are  not  of  two  distinct  religions  :  while 
we  have  conscientious  objections  to  some  things  enjoined  in  their  public 
service,  we  profess  the  same  doctrines  which  they  profess  ;  we  worship 
the  same  God ;  we  look  for  salvation  through  the  blood  of  the  same 
Mediator  ;  we  implore  the  agency  of  the  same  blessed  Spirit  by  whom 
we  all  have  access  to  the  Father ;  we  have  the  same  rule  of  life  ;  and 
maintain,  equally  with  them,  the  necessity  of  that  "  holiness  without 
which  none  shall  see  the  Lord." 

The  increasing  demand  for  new  places  of  worship,  or  for  enlarging 
the  old,  arises,  in  a  great  part,  from  the  increased  attention  paid  to  the 
concerns  of  religion. 

L3 


164  REWARD  IN  HEAVEN. 

XXXIII. 

ON  THE  REWARD  OF  THE  PIOUS  IN  HEAVEN. 

Matt.   v.    12. — Rejoice,  and  be    exceeding  glad:  for  great  is  your 
reward  in  heaven. 

The  gospel  of  Christ  is  not  intended  to  extinguish  or  impair  the 
natural  sensibility  of  the  human  mind  ;  but  to  purify  and  refine  it,  rather, 
by  directing  it  to  its  proper  objects.  It  proposes  to  transfer  the  affec- 
tions from  earth  to  heaven, — from  a  world  of  shadows  and  illusions  to 
a  world  where  all  is  real,  substantial,  and  eternal.  By  connecting  the 
present  with  the  future,  by  teaching  us  to  consider  every  event  in  its 
relation  to  an  hereafter,  it  presents  almost  every  thing  under  a  new 
aspect,  and  gives  birth  to  such  views  of  human  life  as,  on  a  superficial 
observation,  appear  false  and  paradoxical.  What  can  appear  more  so 
than  to  call  upon  men  to  "  rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad,"  when 
they  are  persecuted  and  reproached,  and  loaded  with  every  kind  of 
calumny  ?  Yet  such,  we  find,  is  the  language  of  that  Teacher  who, 
"  coming  from  above,  is  above  all." 

Nor  is  there  any  difficulty  in  admitting  the  justness  and  propriety  of 
the  sentiment  contained  in  this  injunction,  when  it  is  added,  "  for  great 
is  your  reward  in  heaven."  A  consummation  so  glorious  throws  a 
lustre  over  all  the  preparatory  scenes,  and  turns  into  an  occasion  of 
joy  and  exultation  that  from  which  we  should  otherwise  recoil  with 
horror.  We  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  welcome  the  short-lived 
pains  which  are  to  be  followed  by  eternal  pleasures,  and  those  tempo- 
rary reproaches  which  will  be  compensated  with  everlasting  glory. 

I.  The  felicity  which  awaits  those  who  persevere,  through  good  and 
evil  report,  in  a  steadfast  adherence  to  Christ,  is  frequently  expressed 
in  the  Scriptures  by  the  name  of  reward.  It  is  almost  unnecessary  to 
remind  you  that  this  term  is  not  on  such  occasions  to  be  taken  in  its 
most  strict  and  proper  sense,  as  though  the  patience  and  perseverance  of 
the  saints  deserved  eternal  felicity.  Nothing  is  more  opposed  to  the  doc- 
trine of  Scripture,  and  the  feelings  of  a  real  Christian,  tlian  such  an  idea. 
It  is  true,  the  inspired  writers  evince  no  reluctance  to  employ  this  term. 
Our  Lord  declares,  "  He  that  receiveth  a  prophet  in  the  name  of  a  prophet 
shall  receive  a  prophet's  reward  ;  and  he  that  receiveth  a  righteous  man 
in  the  name  of  a  righteous  man  shall  receive  a  righteous  man's  reward  ; 
and  whosoever  shall  give  to  drink  unto  one  of  these  little  ones  a  cup 
of  cold  water  in  the  name  of  a  disciple,  he  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his 
reward."*  "  Love  your  enemies,  and  do  good,  and  lend,  hoping  for 
nothing  again  ;  and  your  reward  shall  be  great,  and  ye  shall  be  called 
the  children  of  the  Highest."!  St.  Paul  assures  us,  "  Every  man  shall 
receive  his  own  reward  :  if  any  man's  work  abide,  he  shall  receive  a 

♦  Matt.  X..41,  42  t  L'lke  vi.  35 


REWARD  IN  HEAVEN.  165 

reward."*  "  Let  no  man  beguile  you  of  your  reward."!  "  Thy 
Father  which  seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly."|  "  Behold,  I 
come  quickly ;  and  my  reward  is  with  me,  to  give  to  every  man  ac- 
cording as  his  work  shall  be."'^  But  still  we  must  never  lose  sight 
of  its  true  nature — that  "  it  is  of  grace,  not  of  debt."  It  is  what  the 
infinite  condescension  of  God  is  pleased  to  bestow  on  those  who  love 
[him,]  not  what  any  man  claims  as  equitably  due :  for  our  best  per- 
formances are  mixed  with  sinful  imperfections,  which  need  themselves 
to  be  pardoned  ;  not  to  say  that  the  ability  to  perform  them  is  the  effect 
of  renewing  and  sanctifying  grace ;  so  that  while  in  one  sense  they 
are  our  deeds,  they  are  in  another  his  donations. 

The  felicity  which  God  will  bestow  upon  his  faithful  servants  may 
be  properly  denominated  a  reward.,  on  the  following  accounts : — 

1.  It  is  inseparably  joined  to  obedience,  and  is  promised  as  a  motive 
to  encourage  and  sustain  it.  Christ  will  be  the  "  Author  of  eternal 
salvation  to  them,"  and  them  only,  "  who  obey  him."l| 

2.  It  will  be  bestowed  expressly  as  a  mark  of  approbation  and  ac- 
ceptance of  the  obedience  to  which  it  is  annexed.  It  will  be  bestowed 
as  a  token  and  demonstration  of  God's  complacency  in  righteousness. 
*'  Seeing  it  is  a  righteous  thing  with  God  to  recompense  tribulation  to 
them  that  trouble  you,  and  to  you  who  are  troubled,  rest  with  us,  when 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  revealed  from  heaven  with  his  mighty 
angels."F  "  And  he  said  unto  him,  Well  done,  thou  good  servant ; 
because  thou  hast  been  faithful  in  a  very  little,  have  thou  authority 
over  ten  cities."** 

3.  The  reward,  the  felicity  bestowed,  will  be  proportioned  to  the  de- 
gree of  religious  improvement,  "  to  the  work  of  faith  and  labour  of 
love."  We  are  reminded  of  those  who  are  "  saved  as  by  fire  ;"  and 
of  those  who  have  "  an  abundant  entrance  ;"  of  "  a  righteous  man's," 
and  of  "  a  prophet's  reward ;"  of  some  who  "  sow  sparingly,"  and  of 
others  who  "  sow  bountifully,"  both  of  whom  shall  reap  accordingly. 

II.  Having  said  enough  to  establish  the  Scripture  idea  of  rewards,  I 
proceed  to  the  more  immediate  object  in  view,  which  is,  by  a  compari- 
son of  both,  to  evince  the  superiority  of  heavenly  to  earthly  rewards, 
of  its  recompenses  to  those  of  time. 

1.  The  rewards  of  heaven  are  certain.  Whether  we  shall  possess 
them  or  not  may  be  matter  of  great  imcertainty,  because  it  is  possible 
we  may  not  be  of  the  description  of  persons  to  whom  they  are  prom- 
ised. The  heirs  of  salvation  may,  at  certain  seasons,  entertain  doubts 
of  their  finally  obtaining  them ;  but  they  are  in  themselves  certain, 
since  they  are  secured  by  the  "  promise  of  him  who  cannot  lie." 

On  this  account  they  are  strikingly  contrasted  with  earthly  recom- 
penses. The  most  passionate  votary  of  the  world  is  never  certain  he 
shall  possess  an  adequate  recompense  for  all  his  toil,  and  care,  and 
earthly  sacrifices.  How  often  does  she  mock  her  followers  with  de- 
lusive hopes,  entangle  them  in  endless  cares,  and  exhaust  them  with 
hopeless  and  consuming  passions  ;  and  after  all  a.ssign  them  no  com- 

*  1  Cor.  iii.  8,  14.  t  Col.  ii.  18.  t  Matt.  vi.  8.  6  Rev.  yvU.  12. 

II  Heb.  V.  9.  TV  2  Thess.  L  6, 7         **  Luke  xix.  17. 


J,66  REWARD  IN  HEAVEN. 

pensation.  After  years  of  unremitting  fatigue  and  unceasing  anxiety, 
the  object  they  have  pursued  eludes  their  grasp,  or  appears  as  remote 
as  ever,  till,  at  the  close  of  life,  they  are  compelled  to  sit  down  in  hope- 
Jess  disappointment,  and  confess  that  they  have  "  sown  to  the  wind, 
and  reaped  the  whirlwind."  Of  the  many  prizes  which  the  world  ex- 
hibits to  human  hope,  there  is  not  one  whose  possession  is  certain ; 
nor  is  there  a  single  desire  with  which  she  inspires  her  votaries  but 
what  is  liable  to  become  a  source  of  anguish,  by  being  disappointed 
of  its  gratification.  Whatever  be  the  immediate  object  of  pursuit,  suc- 
cess depends  on  circumstances  quite  out  of  our  power ;  we  are  often  as 
much  injured  by  the  folly  of  others  as  by  our  own.  If  the  object 
which  we  are  pursuing  be  highly  desirable,  others  feel  its  attraction  as 
well  as  ourselves ;  and  we  find  ourselves  engaged  in  a  race  where 
there  are  many  competitors,  but  only  one  can  gain  the  prize. 

How  different  is  it  with  heavenly  rewards  !  In  relation  to  them,  no 
well-meant  effort  is  unsuccessful.  We  lay  up  as  much  treasure  there 
as  we  sincerely  and  perseveringly  endeavour  to  accumulate  ;  nor  is 
•jhe  success  of  our  eflbrts  liable  to  be  defeated  by  the  jeajousy  of  rivals. 

Our  attempts  to  promote  the  benefit  of  our  fellow-creatures  are  es- 
timated according  to  their  events  rather  than  their  intentions  ;  and,  how- 
ever  sincere  and  zealous  they  may  have  been,  unless  they  are  proi- 
ductive  of  some  probable  benefit,  they  are  treated  with  neglect  and 
ingratitude. 

How  different  in  regard  to  the  recompenses  of  Heaven !  He  will 
reward,  not  only  the  services  we  have  performed,  but  those  which  it 
was  our  wish  to  have  performed.  The  sincere  intention  is  recom- 
pensed as  well  as  the  deed.  "  Because  this  was  in  thine  heart,  and 
thou  hast  not  asked  riches,  wealth,  or  honour,  nor  the  life  of  thine 
enemies,  neither  yet  hast  asked  long  life ;  but  hast  asked  wisdom  and 
knowledge  for  thyself,  that  thou  mayst  judge  my  people,  over  whorn 
I  have  made  thee  king  :  wisdom  and  knowledge  is  granted  unto  thee."* 
The  friendship  of  mankind  is  sometimes  as  much  endangered  by  the 
greatness  of  the  benefit  conferred  as  by  neglect ;  and  while  little  acts 
of  attention  and  kindness  cement  the  ties  of  friendship,  such  is  the 
perverseness  of  human  nature,  that  great  favours  weaken  and  dissolve 
them. 

While  they  are  sufficiently  aware  of  the  advantages  that  they  derive, 
they  hate  the  obligation  which  they  entail;  and  feeling  themselves 
incapable  of  making  an  adequate  return,  they  consult  at  once  their 
pride  and  their  indolence  by  forgetting  it.  But  how  different  is  it  in 
relation  to  the  Supreme  Being !  we  can  never  lay  him  under  obliga-r 
tion;  yet  his  kindness  disposes,  while  his  opulence  enables,  him  to 
reward  in  the  most  liberal  manner. 

Many  are  so  inmiersed  in  meanness  and  folly  that  they  have  little 
care  but  to  be  amused  :  the  voice  of  truth  and  the  admonitions  of 
wisdom  are  discord  to  their  ear  ;  and  he  who  desires  to  conciliate  their 
regard  must  not  attempt  to  do  them  good,  but  must  sooth  their  pride, 
;jifiame  their  corruptions,  and  hasten  on  their  destruction.     They  are 

*  aChron.  i.  11. 


REWARD  IN  HEAVEN.  167 

of  the  temper  of  Ahab,  the  king  of  Israel,  who  caressed  the  false 
prophets  that  hired  him  on  to  his  ruin,  while  he  avowed  his  hatred  of 
Micaiah,  because  he  "  prophesied  evil  of  him,  and  not  good."* 

The  disinterested  patriot  who  devotes  his  nights  and  days  to  promote 
the  interests  of  his  country  may  very  probably  fall  a  victim  to  its 
vengeance,  by  being  made  answerable  for  events  beyond  human  fore- 
sight or  control ;  and  one  unsuccessful  undertaking  shall  cancel  the 
remembrance  of  a  series  of  the  most  brilliant  achievements. 

The  most  important  services  frequently  fail  of  being  rewarded 
when  they  are  not  recommended  by  their  union  with  the  ornamental 
appendages  of  rank  or  fortune.  "  There  was  a  little  city,  and  few 
men  whhin  it ;  and  there  came  a  great  king  against  it,  and  besieged  it, 
and  built  great  bulwarks  against  it :  now  there  was  found  in  it  a  poor 
wise  man,  and  he  by  his  wisdom  delivered  the  city;  yet  no  man 
remembered  that  same  poor  man."t  From  these  and  various  other 
causes  that  might  be  specified,  we  see  how  uncertain  are  the  recom- 
penses of  this  world,  and  how  delusive  the  expectations  they  excite, 
and  to  what  cruel  reverses  and  disappointments  they  are  exposed. 

How  different  the  reward  which  awaits  us  in  heaven  ;  how  infallibly 
certain  the  promise  of  Him  that  cannot  lie ;  how  secure  the  treasure 
that  is  laid  up  in  heaven,  which  "  rust  cannot  corrupt,  nor  thieves  break 
through  and  steal !"  They  are  not  liable  to  the  fluctuations  of  time 
and  chance,  but  are  secured  by  the  promise  and  the  oath  of  God. 

n.  The  recompenses  of  heaven  are  satisfying.  How  far  this 
quality  is  from  attaching  to  the  emoluments  and  pleasures  of  this 
world  universal  experience  can  attest.  They  are  so  far  from  satisfy- 
ing, that  their  effect  uniformly  is  to  inflame  the  desires  which  they  fail 
to  gratify. 

The  pursuit  of  riches  is  one  of  the  most  common  and  the  most 
seductive  which  occupy  the  attention  of  mankind,  and  no  doubt  they 
assume  at  a  distance  a  most  fascinating  aspect.  They  flatter  their 
votary  with  the  expectation  of  real  and  substantial  bliss  ;  but  no  sooner 
has  he  attained  the  portion  of  opulence  to  which  he  aspired,  than  he 
feels  himself  as  remote  as  ever  from  satisfaction.  The  same  desire 
revives  with  fresh  vigour ;  his  thirst,  for  further  acquisitions  is  more 
intense  than  ever ;  what,  he  before  esteemed  riches  sinks  in  his  present 
estimation  to  poverty,  and  he  transfers  the  name  to  ampler  possessions 
and  larger  revenues.  Say,  did  you  ever  find  the  votary  of  wealth  who 
could  sit  down  contented  with  his  present  acquisitions  1  Nor  is  it 
otherwise  with  the  desire  of  fame,  or  the  love  of  power  and  pre- 
eminence. 

The  man  of  pleasure  is  still,  if  possible,  imder  a  greater  incapacity 
of  finding  satisfaction.  The  violence  of  his  desires  renders  him  a 
continual  prey  to  uneasiness ;  imagination  is  continually  suggesting 
new  modes  and  possibilities  of  indulgence,  which  subject  him  to  fresh 
agitation  and  disquiet.  A  long  course  of  prosperity,  a  continued  series 
of  indulgences,  produces  at  length  a  sickly  sensibility,  a  childish 
impatience  of  the  slightest  disappointment  or  restraint.     One  desire 

*  1  Kings  xxu.  8.  t  Eccles.  ix.  14, 15. 


168  ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN. 

ungratified  is  sufficient  to  mai*  every  enjoyment,  and  to  impair  the 
relish  for  every  other  species  of  good.  Witness  Haman,  who,  after 
enumerating  the  various  ingredients  of  a  most  brilUant  fortune,  adds, 
*'  Yet  all  tliis  availeth  me  nothing,  so  long  as  I  see  Mordecai  the  Jew 
sitting  in  the  gate."* 

The  recompenses  of  the  world  are  sometimes  just,  though  they 
never  satisfy ;  hence  the  frequency  of  suicide.    *  *  * 

III.  The  recompenses  of  heaven  are  eternal. 


XXXIV. 

ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN. 

Exodus  xx.  7. —  Thou  shah  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God 

in  vain. 

The  laws  given  to  the  Israelites  were  of  three  kinds — ceremonial, 
judicial,  and  moral.  The  ceremonial  consisted  of  those  religious 
observances  and  rites  which  were  partly  intended  to  separate  the 
peculiar  people  of  God  from  surrounding  nations,  and  partly  to  pre- 
figure the  most  essential  truths  and  blessings  which  were  to  be  com- 
municated to  mankind  at  the  advent  of  the  Messiah.  These,  being  in 
their  [nature]  typical,  necessarily  ceased  when  the  great  Personage 
to  whom  they  pointed  made  his  appearance.  The  judicial  laws 
respected  the  distribution  of  property,  the  rights  of  rulers  and  subjects, 
and  the  mode  of  deciding  controversies,  together  with  a  variety  of  other 
particulars  relating  to  civil  polity,  which  is  always  of  a  variable  and 
mutable  nature.  The  third  sort  are  moral :  these  are  founded  in  the 
nature  of  things,  and  the  reciprocal  relations  in  which  God  and  man 
stand  towards  each  oilier,  and  are  consequently  unchangeable,  since 
the  principles  on  which  they  are  founded  are  capable  of  no  alteration. 
The  two  former  sorts  of  laws  are  not  obligatory  upon  Christians,  nor 
did  they,  while  they  were  in  force,  oblige  any  besides  the  people  to 
which  they  were  originally  addressed.  They  have  waxed  old,  decayed, 
and  passed  away.  But  the  third  sort  are  still  in  force,  and  will  remain 
the  unalterable  standard  of  right  and  wrong,  and  the  rule  throughout 
all  [periods  of  time.]  The  Ten  Commandments,  or  the  "Ten  Words," 
as  the  expression  is  in  the  original,  uttered  by  God,  in  an  audible  voice, 
from  Mount  Sinai,  belong  to  the  third  class.  They  are  a  transcript 
of  the  law  of  nature,  which  prescribes  the  inherent  and  essential  duties 
which  spring  from  the  relation  which  mankind  bear  to  God  and  to  each 
other.  The  first  four  respect  the  duty  we  owe  to  God,  and  the  last 
six  that  which  we  owe  to  our  fellow-creatures.  The  first  ascertains 
the  object  of  worship  ;  the  second  the  mode  of  worship,  forbidding  all 

♦  Esther  v.  13. 


ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN.  169 

visible  representations  of  the  Deity  by  pictures  or  images ;  the  third 
inculcates  the  reverence  due  to-  the  Divine  name ;  the  fourth  the 
observation  of  the  Sabbath,  or  of  a  seventh  part  of  our  time  to  be 
devoted  to  the  immediate  service  of  God.  These  ten  rules,  in  order 
to  mark  their  pre-eminent  importance  and  obligation,  were  inscribed 
by  the  finger  of  God  on  two  tables  of  stone,  which  Moses  was  com- 
manded to  prepare  for  that  purpose. 

Our  attention  is  at  present  directed  to  the  third  of  these  precepts — 
"  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain  ;"  in  treat- 
ing of  which  we  shall  endeavour, — 

I.  To  determine  what  is  forbidden  in  this  commandment ;  and, 

II.  The  grounds  on  which  this  prohibition  proceeds. 

I.  In  considering  what  is  forbidden  by  the  precept  before  us,  it  were 
easy  to  multiply  particulars  ;  but  the  true  import  of  it  may,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  be  summed  up  in  the  two  following : — 

1.  It  forbids  perjury,  or  the  taking  up  the  name  [of  God]  for  the 
purpose  of  establishing  falsehood.  Vanity  is  frequently  used  in  Scrip- 
ture for  wickedness,  and  particularly  for  that  species  of  wickedness 
which  consists  in  falsehood ;  and  after  all  that  has  been  [advanced] 
on  that  famous  saying  of  our  Lord,  "  every  idle  word  that  men  shall 
speak,  they  shall  give  account  thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment,"*  it  is 
most  probable  that  he  means  by  idle  word,  a  word  which  is  morally 
evil,  partaking  of  the  nature  of  falsehood,  malice,  pride,  or  impurity. 
It  is  in  this  [view]  only,  as  it  appears  to  me,  that  the  truth  of  our 
Lord's  saying  can  be  soberly  and  consistently  maintained.  When  the 
pretended  prophets  are  threatened  on  account  of  their  uttering  vain 
visions,  the  vanity  ascribed  to  them  meant  their  falsehood.  In  all 
civilized  countries  recourse  has  been  had  to  oaths,  which  are  solemn 
appeals  to  God  respecting  a  matter  of  fact  for  the  determination  of 
controversies  which  could  not  be  decided  without  the  attestation  of  the 
parties  concerned,  and  of  other  competent  witnesses.  Hence  an  oath 
is  said  by  the  apostle  to  be  "  an  end  of  all  strife. '"f  To  take  a  false 
oath  on  such  occasions,  which  is  the  crime  of  perjury,  is  one  of  the 
most  atrocious  violations  of  the  law  of  nature  and  of  God  which  can 
be  committed,  since  it  involves  two  crimes  in  one ;  being  at  once  a 
deliberate  insult  to  the  majesty  of  God,  and  an  act  of  the  highest 
injustice  towards  our  fellow-creatures. 

A  perjured  person  is  accordingly  branded  with  infamy,  as  well  as 
subjected  to  severe  punishment,  which  is  equally  demanded  by  the 
honour  of  God  and  the  welfare  of  society.  It  may  be  reasonably 
hoped  there  is  no  person  in  this  assembly  who  has  been  guilty  of  this 
crime,  or  is  under  any  strong  temptation  to  commit  it.  But  I  cannot 
omit  this  opportunity  of  expressing  regret  that  the  multiplication  of 
oaths  by  the  legislature  in  the  affairs  of  revenue  and  of  commerce 
has  tended  to  render  them  too  cheap,  and  has  greatly  diminished  the 
horror  with  which  the  very  idea  of  a  false  oath  ought  to  be  accompanied. 
Though  it  is  always  lawful  to  swear  to  a  fact  of  which  we  are  well 

*  Matt.  xii.  S6.  f  Heb.  vi.  16. 


170  ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN. 

assured,  at  the  requisition  of  a  magistrate  or  a  public  functionary ;  yet 
it  deserves  the  attention  of  a  Christian  legislator,  whether  the  introduc- 
tion [of  oaths]  on  every  the  slightest  occasion  can  have  any  other 
tendency  than  to  defeat  the  purpose,  by  rendering  them  of  no  authority ; 
to  say  nothing  of  the  blow  which  it  strikes  at  the  root  of  public  morals. 

If  it  was  a  complaint  made  by  an  ancient  prophet,  "  By  reason  of 
swearing  the  land  mourneth,"  we  have  assuredly  not  less  reason  to 
adopt  the  same  complaint.  Perjury,  it  is  to  be  feared,  is  an  epidemic 
vice  in  this  nation.  Among  many  it  is  reduced  to  a  system ;  and, 
awful  to  relate,  there  is,  as  I  am  credibly  informed,  a  tribe  of  men  who 
make  it  their  business  to  take  false  oaths  at  the  custom-house,  for 
which  they  are  paid  a  stated  price.  The  name  by  which  these  wretched 
men  are  known  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  highly  apposite ;  they  are 
styled  damned  souls*     But  to  proceed. 

2.  The  second  way  in  which  this  precept  is  violated  is  the  profane 
use  of  the  name  of  God  on  trivial  occasions  ;  in  familiar  discourses, 
whether  it  be  in  mirth  or  in  anger.  There  are  some  men  who  are  in 
the  constant  liabit  of  interlarding  their  common  discourses  with  the 
name  of  God  ;  generally  in  the  form  of  swearing,  at  other  times  in  the 
language  of  cursing  and  execration,  without  any  assignable  motive, 
except  it  be  to  give  an  air  of  superior  spirit  and  energy  to  their  lan- 
guage. The  mention  of  the  Deity  is  often  so  introduced  as  evidently 
to  appear  a  mere  expletive  ;  nor  is  any  thing  more  common  than  to 
hear  such  persons  declare  they  absolutely  mean  nothing  by  it.  When 
persons  of  this  description  are  inflamed  with  anger,  it  is  usual  for  them 
to  express  their  resentment  in  the  form  of  the  most  dreadful  execrations, 
wishing  the  damnation  of  their  fellow-creatures.  There  are  multitudes 
who  are  scarce  ever  heard  to  make  mention  of  the  name  of  the  Deity 
but  upon  such  occasions. 

To  evince  the  criminality  and  impiety  of  this  practice,  let  me  request 
your  serious  attention  to  the  following  considerations : — 

(1.)  The  practice  of  using  the  name  of  God  on  slight  and  trivial 
occasions  is  in  direct  opposition,  not  only  to  the  passage  [sslected  for 
our  meditation],  but  also  to  a  variety  of  others  which  identify  the 
character  of  God  with  his  name.  He  demands  the  same  respect  to  be 
paid  to  his  name  as  to  himself.  When  the  prophet  Isaiah  foreiels  the 
propagation  of  true  religion,  he  expresses  it  in  the  following  terms ; — 
"  They  shall  sanctify  my  name,  and  sanctify  the  Holy  One  of  Jacob, 
and  shall  fear  the  God  of  Israel."!  "  I  will  sanctify  my  great  name."| 
The  piety  of  the  tribe  of  Levi  is  thus  expressed  : — "  My  covenant  was 
with  him  of  life  and  peace  ;  and  I  gave  them  to  him  for  the  fear  where- 
with he  feared  me,  and  was  afraid  before  my  name."*^  "  I  am  a  great 
King,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  and  my  name  is  dreadfid  among  the 
heathen. "II  'J'he  respect  which  God  pays  to  his  name  is  a  frequent 
plea  with  the  saints  of  God  in  their  supplications  for  mercy :  "  What 

*  On  Friday.  tliR  15th  of  July,  1831,  the  Marquis  of  Landsdowne  declared  in  the  House  of  Peers, 
on  introducing  a  bill  lor  llie  regulation  of  oaltis  in  certain  government  departments,  that  10,000  oatha 
were  taken  in  the  department  of  the  Customs,  and  12,000  in  that  of  the  Excise,  during  the  preceding 
year.— En. 

t  Jsa.  .xxix.  23.  t  Ezek.  xxxvi.  23.  $Mal.ii.  5.  1|  Mai.  J.  14. 


ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN.  171 

■wilt  thou  do  unto  thy  great  name  ?"*  "  If  thou  wilt  not  observe  to  do 
all  the  words  of  this  law  that  are  written  in  this  book,  that  thou  mayst 
fear  this  glorious  and  fearful  name,  The  Lord  thy  God."t 

When  our  Lord  directs  us  to  pray  that  all  due  reverence  [be 
given  to  that  name],  he  expresses  it  thus : — "Hallowed  be  thy  name." 
It  is  proper  to  remark,  that  as  there  were  "  gods  many,  and  lords  many," 
among  the  heathen,  to  distinguish  himself  from  these  pretended  deities 
he  was  pleased  to  reveal  himself  to  Abraham  and  to  his  descendants 
inider  the  peculiar  name  of  Jehovah,  which  signifies  essential,  inde- 
pendent, and  unchanging  existence-J  The  reverence  paid  to  this  name 
among  the  Jews  was  carried  to  the  greatest  possible  height :  it  was 
never  pronounced  in  common,  nor  even  read  in  their  synagogues ;  but 
whenever  it  occurred  in  the  Scriptures,  the  word  Adonai  was  substi- 
tuted in  its  place.  Among  Christians,  God  has  not  been  pleased  to 
assume  any  appropriate  appellation  ;  but,  as  the  existence  of  the  pre- 
tended deities  is  entirely  exploded,  the  term  God  invariably  denotes 
ihe  One  Supreme.  The  meaning  of  it  is  no  longer  ambiguous,  it 
always  represents  the  true  God  ;  and  whatever  respect  was  justly  due 
to  the  name  of  Jehovah  among  the  Jews  is  equally  due  to  that  term 
which  is  appropriated  among  Christians  to  denote  the  existence  and 
perfections  of  the  same  glorious  Being.  Hence  it  follows,  that  when 
we  are  taught  to  pray  that  the  name  of  God  may  be  hallowed,  the 
meaning  of  that  petition  [is]  that  [the]  appellation,  whatever  it  be,  by 
which  the  Supreme  Being,  in  the  various  languages  of  the  world,  is 
denoted,  may  be  duly  reverenced.  The  term  God  among  Christians 
is  no  more  ambiguous  than  the  terra  Jehovah  among  the  Jews ;  it 
.denotes  one  and  the  same  object :  and  it  is  therefore  as  criminal  for 
us  to  use  the  one  with  levity  as  a  similar  treatment  of  the  other  would 
have  been  among  the  Jews.  And  hence  it  is  manifest  that  the  whole 
spirit  of  the  passages  here  quoted,  respecting  the  name  of  God,  is 
applicable  in  its  full  weight  to  the  subject  before  us,  and  directly 
militates  against  the  practice  we  are  now  condemning. 

(2.)  From  the  remarks  which  have  been  made  it  follows,  that  the 
practice  of  using  [his  name]  lightly,  and  [on]  trivial  occasions,  is  an 
mfallible  indication  of  irreverence  towards  God.  As  there  is  no 
[adequate]  method  of  communicating  [thought]  but  by  words,  which, 
though  arbitrary  in  themselves,  are  agreed  upon  as  the  signs  of  ideas, 
no  sooner  are  they  employed  but  they  call  up  the  ideas  they  are 
intended  to  denote.  When  language  is  established,  there  exists  a  close 
and  inseparable  connexion  between  words  and  things,  insomuch  that 
we  cannot  pronounce  or  hear  one  without  thinking  of  the  other. 
Whenever  the  term  God,  for  instance,  is  used,  it  excites  among  Chris- 
tians the  idea  of  the  incomprehensible  Author  of  nature :  this  idea  it 
may  excite  with  more  or  less  force  and  impression,  but  it  invariably 
excites  that  idea,  and  no  other.  Now,  to  connect  the  idea  of  God  with 
what  is  most  frivolous  and  ridiculous  is  to  treat  it  with  contempt ;  and 
^s  we  can  only  contemplate  [objects]  under  their  ideas,  to  feel  no 

*  Josh.  vii.  9.  t  Deut.  xxviii.  58.  i  See  p.  13-16. 


172  ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN. 

reverence  for  the  idea  of  God  is  precisely  the  same  thing  as  to  feel  a 
contempt  for  God.  He  who  thinks  of  [the  name  of]  God  without 
being  awed  by  it  cannot  pretend  to  be  a  fearer  of  God  ;  but  it  is  impos- 
sible to  use  the  name  of  God  lightly  and  unnecessarily  without  being 
in  that  predicament.  It  is  evident,  beyond  all  contradiction,  that  such 
a  man  is  in  the  habit  of  thinking  of  God  without  the  least  reverential 
emotion.  He  could  not  associate  the  idea  of  God  with  levity,  buffoon- 
ery, and  whatsoever  is  mean  and  ridiculous,  if  he  had  not  acquired  a 
most  criminal  insensibility  to  his  character,  and  to  all  the  awful 
peculiarities  it  involves.  Suppose  a  person  to  be  penetrated  with  a 
deep  contrition  for  his  sins,  and  a  strong  apprehension  of  the  wrath  of 
God,  which  is  suspended  over  him  ;  and  are  you  not  [immediately] 
aware  of  the  impossibility  of  his  using  the  name  of  the  Being  who  is 
the  object  of  all  these  emotions  as  a  mere  expletive  ?  Were  a  person 
to  pretend  to  the  character  of  an  humble  penitent,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain,  in  the  way  to  which  we  are  now 
alluding,  would  you  give  the  smallest  credit  to  his  pretensions?  How 
decisive  then  must  that  indication  of  irreverence  be  which  is  sufficient 
to  render  the  very  profession  of  repentance  ridiculous ! 

But  this  practice  is  not  only  inconsistent  with  that  branch  of  religion 
which  [constitutes]  repentance  ;  it  is  equally  inconsistent  with  sincere, 
much  more  with  supreme,  esteem  and  veneration.  No  child  could 
bear  to  hear  the  name  of  a  father  whose  memory  he  highly  respected 
and  venerated  treated  in  the  manner  in  which  the  name  of  the  Supreme 
Being  is  introduced.  It  would  be  felt  and  resented  as  a  high  degree 
of  rudeness  and  indignity.  There  is,  in  short,  no  being  whatever,  who 
is  the  object  of  strong  emotion,  whose  distinguishing  appellations  could 
be  mentioned  in  this  manner  without  the  utmost  absurdity  and  indeli- 
cacy. Nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that  the  taking  the  name  of 
God  in  vain  infallibly  indicates  a  mind  in  which  the  reverence  of  God 
has  no  place.  But  is  it  possible  to  conceive  a  state  of  mind  more 
.opposite  to  reason  and  order  than  this  1  To  acknowledge  the  existence 
of  a  Supreme  Being,  our  Maker  and  Preserver,  possessed  of  incom- 
prehensible perfection,  on  whom  we  are  totally  dependent  throughout 
every  moment  of  duration,  and  in  every  stage  of  our  existence,  without 
feeling  the  profoundest  awe  and  reverence  of  him,  is  an  impropriety, 
a.  moral  absurdity,  which  the  utmost  range  of  language  and  conception 
is  inadequate  to  paint.  If  we  consider  the  formal  nature  of  sin  as  a 
deliberate  transgression  of  the  Divine  law,  it  resolves  itself  chiefly  into 
this,  that  it  implies  a  contempt  of  infinite  Majesty,  and  supreme  power 
and  authority.  This  disposition  constitutes  the  very  core  and  essence 
of  sin.  It  is  not  merely  the  character  of  the  wicked  that  they  con- 
temn God ;  it  enters  deeply  into  the  character  of  wickedness  itself; 
nor  is  there  a  heavier  charge,  among  their  complicated  crimes,  adduced 
against  the  ancient  Israelites,  than  that  they  "  lightly  esteemed  the 
Rock  of  their  salvation."* 

With  respect  to  the  profane  oaths  and  execrations  which  most  of 

*  Deut.  xxxil.  15. 


ON  TAKING  THE  NAME  OF  GOD  IN  VAIN.  173 

those  who  are  habituated  to  "  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain"  fre- 
quently utter  when  they  are  transported  with  emotions  of  anger,  their 
criminahty  is  still  greater  as  they  approacli  the  confines  of  blasphemy. 
To  hurl  damnation  at  our  fellow-creatures  whenever  they  have  fallen 
under  our  displeasure  is  precisely  the  conduct  of  the  fool  described  by 
Solomon,  who  "  casteth  about  firebrands,  arrows,  and  death,  and  saith. 
Am  not  I  in  sport  ?"* 

We  will  do  them  the  justice  of  supposing  that  they  are  far  from 
really  wishing  the  eternal  destruction  of  their  fellow-creatures  ;  but, 
admitting  this  to  be  the  case,  admitting  they  have  no  such  intention,  is 
not  this  more  than  to  insinuate  that  these  terms  have  absolutely  no 
meaning,  and  that  the  sanction  of  the  Divine  law,  the  punishment  of  a 
future  state,  have  no  such  existence,  but  are  become  mere  figures  of 
speech, — that  Christianity  is  exploded,  and  that  its  most  awful  doc- 
trines, like  the  fables  of  pagan  superstition,  serve  only  the  purpose 
of  allusion'?  Is  it  possible  for  him  who  lives  under  an  habitual  con- 
viction of  there  being  an  eternal  state  of  misery  reserved  for  the 
impenitent,  to  [advert  to]  the  terrors  of  that  world  on  every  slight 
occasion  to  give  additional  force  to  the  expressions  of  his  anger? 

(3.)  The  practice  of  taking  the  Lord's  name  in  vain  is  not  only  a 
great  indication  of  want  of  reverence  for  God,  but  is  calculated  to  wear 
out  all  serious  religion  from  the  mind.  The  effect  of  associating  the 
most  awful  words  expressive  of  religious  objects  with  every  thing 
which  is  mean  and  degrading,  is  adapted,  in  the  highest  degree,  to  sink 
them  into  contempt.  He  who  has  reflected  the  least  on  the  laws  of  the 
human  mind  must  be  aware  of  the  importance  of  association,  or  of  that 
principle  in  consequence  of  which  ideas  and  emotions  which  have 
been  frequently  presented  to  the  mind  at  the  same  time  naturally  recall 
each  other.  It  is  by  virtue  of  this  law  of  nature,  principally,  that  habits 
are  formed,  and  that  the  links  which  connect  things  in  the  memory  are 
constituted.  By  virtue  of  this  it  is  that  objects  which  have  been  fre- 
quently presented  along  with  ludicrous  and  ridiculous  circumstances 
acquire  a  character  of  ridicule.  Hence  the  art  of  turning  persons  or 
things  into  ridicule  is  to  place  them  in  juxtaposition  with  what  is  low 
and  trivial ;  in  consequence  of  which  the  emotion  of  contempt  excited 
by  the  latter  is  made  to  adhere  to  the  former,  and  stamps  them  with  a 
similar  character.  These  remarks,  obvious  as  they  are,  may  be  suf- 
ficient to  evince  the  pernicious  efiect  of  taking  the  Lord's  name  in  vain. 
Though  it  is  not  the  formal  design  of  those  who  indulge  this  practice  ta 
turn  the  most  sacred  objects  into  ridicule,  it  perfectly  answers  that 
purpose  as  much  as  if  it  were  their  professed  intention. 

The  practice  [whose  evils]  we  are  endeavouring  to  [point  out]  will 
be  more  certainly  productive  of  that  efl!ect,  because  it  is  usually  con- 
nected with  a  total  absence  of  the  mention  of  God  on  all  other  occasions.- 
Among  this  description  of  persons  the  name  and  attributes  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  and  the  punishments  of  eternity,  are  rarely,  if  ever, 
introduced  but  in  the  way  of  profanation. 

If  the  most  awful  terms  in  religion  are  rarely  or  never  employed  but 

*  Prov.  xxvi.  18,  10. 


174  ON  THE  ORIGIN  AND  IMPORT 

in  connexion  with  angry  or  light  emotions,  he  must  be  blind  indeed 
who  fails  to  perceive  the  tendency  of  such  a  practice  to  wear  out  all 
traces  of  seriousness  from  the  mind.  They  who  are  guilty  of  it  are 
continually  taking  lessons  of  impiety,  and  their  progress,  it  must  be 
confessed,  is  proportioned  to  what  might  be  expected. 

(4.)  The  criminality  of  taking  the  Lord's  name  m  vain  is  enhanced 
by  the  absence  of  every  reasonable  temptation.  It  is  not,  like  many 
other  vices,  productive  of  either  pleasure  or  emolument ;  it  is  neither 
adapted  to  gratify  any  natural  appetite  or  passion,  nor  to  facilitate  the 
attainment  of  a  single  end  which  a  reasonable  creature  can  be  supposed 
to  have  in  view.  It  is  properly  the  "superfluity  of  naughtiness,"  and 
can  only  be  considered  as  a  sort  of  peppercorn  rent,  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  devil's  right  of  superiority.  It  is  a  vice  by  which  no  man's 
reputation  is  extended,  no  man's  fortune  is  increased,  no  man's  sensual 
gratifications  are  augmented.  If  we  attempt  to  analyze  it,  and  reduce 
it  to  its  real  motive,  we  find  ourselves  at  a  total  loss  to  discover  any 
other  than  irreligious  ostentation,  a  desire  of  convincing  the  world  that 
its  perpetrators  are  not  under  the  restraint  of  religious  fear.  But  as 
this  motive  is  most  impious  and  detestable,  so  the  practice  arising  from^ 
it  is  not  at  all  requisite  for  that  purpose  ;  since  the  persons  who  [persist 
in]  it  may  safely  leave  it  to  other  parts  of  their  character  to  exonerate' 
them  from  the  suspicion  of  being  fearers  of  God.  We  beg  leave  to 
remind  them  that  they  are  in  no  danger  of  being  classed  with  the  pious 
either  in  this  world  or  in  that  which  is  to  come,  and  may  therefore 
safely  spare  themselves  the  trouble  of  inscribing  the  name  of  their 
master  on  their  foreheads.  They  are  not  so  near  to  the  kingdom  of 
God  as  to  be  liable  to  be  mistaken  for  its  subjects. 


XXXV. 

ON  THE  ORIGlN^  AND  IMPORT  OF  THE  NAME  CHRISTIANS. 

Acts  xi.  26. — And  the  disciples  were  called  Christians  first  at  Antioch. 

It  is  the  glorious  prerogative  of  God  to  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and 
by  the  powerful  superintendence  of  his  providence  to  overrule  the 
most  untoward  events,  and  render  them  conducive  to  the  ends  of  his 
glory  and  the  good  of  his  people. 

The  persecution  which  arose  upon  the  death  of  Stephen  affords  a 
striking  instance  of  this  ;  whence  the  disciples,  being  all  scattered  and 
dispersed,  besides  the  apostles,  went  everywhere  preaching  the  word ; 
in  consequence  of  wliich,  the  neighbouring  districts  and  provinces  were 
much  sooner  visited  with  tlie  light  of  the  gospel  than  they  would  have 
been  but  for  that  event. 

Had  the  church  of  Jerusalem  continued  to  enjoy  [it]  undisturbed  in 
that  abundance  of  spiritual  prosperity  which  attended  it,  and  in  the 


OF  THE  NAME  CHRISTIANS.  I'J'5 

endearments  of  the  most  exalted  friendship,  they  would  in  all  likelihood 
have  been  indisposed  to  separate,  and  the  precious  wheat  would  have 
been  accumulated  in  one  spot.  By  the  violence  of  persecution  this 
happy  society  was  broken  up  :  the  disciples  found  it  necessary,  accord- 
ing to  the  direction  of  their  Divine  Master,  to  flee  to  other  cities,  where^ 
inflamed  with  the  desire  of  magnifying  Christ  and  of  saving  souls,  they 
distributed  tfie  precious  treasure  of  the  gospel.  Thus  the  clouds  which 
the  wind  had  scattered  descended  in  rich  and  copious  showers  to  refresh 
and  render  fruitful  the  earth :  "  And  at  that  time  there  was  a  great 
persecution  against  the  church  that  was  at  Jerusalem  ;  and  they  were 
all  scattered  abroad  throughout  the  regions  of  Judea  and  Samaria, 
except  the  apostles ;  and  they  that  were  scattered  abroad  went  every- 
where preaching  the  word."* 

Among  other  places  where  the  gospel  was  planted  on  this  occasion 
was  Antioch,  a  famous  city  built  on  the  river  Orontes,  and  the  capital 
of  Syria,  where  the  kings  of  Syria,  the  successors  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  usually  resided.  This  city  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from^ 
Antioch  in  Pisidia,  mentioned  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles. 

The  instruments  chiefly  employed  in  this  work  appear  to  have  been 
men  of  Cyprus  and  C}^rene,  who,  when  they  were  come  to  this  city 
for  the  first  time,  spoke  to  the  Greeks  (that  is,  the  pagan  inhabitants 
of  the  city),  preaching  the  Lord  Jesus.  Much  success  crowned  their 
labours ;  or,  to  speak  in  the  language  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  "  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  was  with  them,  and  a  great  number  believed  and  turned 
to  the  Lord." 

This  is  the  first  instance  we  meet  with  in  sacred  writ  of  the  gospel 
being  preached  to  the  heathen.  Though  the  apostles  and  evangelists 
had  received  from  their  Lord  a  commission  for  that  purpose,  it  was 
some  time  before  they  fully  comprehended  its  import,  or  attempted  to 
execute  it.  By  a  special  direction,  Peter  had,  indeed,  previous  to  this, 
communicated  the  gospel  to  Cornelius  and  his  family ;  but  no  general 
attempt  had  hitherto  been  made  to  propagate  Christianity  among 
idolaters. 

Until  this  time,  they  who  were  dispersed  from  Jerusalem,  in  various 
parts,  preached  the  gospel  to  Jews  only.  The  introduction  of  the 
gospel  into  Antioch  was  therefore  distinguished  by  the  remarkable 
circumstance  of  its  being  the  first  instance  in  which  the  apostles'  com- 
mission was  executed  to  its  full  extent,  and  the  treasures  of  divine  truth 
were  freely  proposed  to  the  acceptance  of  the  gentiles.  It  was  here 
the  light  of  the  word  first  began  to  dawn  on  benighted  pagans,  and 
that  the  heathen  began  to  be  "  given  to  Christ  for  his  possession." 
The  happy  union  of  Jews  and  gentiles  in  one  church,  and  the  breaking 
down  of  the  middle  wall  of  partition  which  had  for  ages  divided  them 
from  each  other,  commenced  here.  That  ancient  oracle  in  which  it 
was  foretold  that  "  God  would  enlarge  Japheth,  and  that  he  should 
dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem,"t  then  began  to  receive  its  accomplishment. 
Those  whom  Jesus  had  made  "  fishers  of  men,"  and  who  had  hitherto 

*  Acts  viii.  1,4.  ,  t  Clen.  ix.  27. 


176  ON  THE  ORIGIN  AND  IMPORT 

confined  their  labours  to  the  scanty  rivulets  and  shallow  pools  of  one 
people,  began  now  to  "  launch  out  into  the  deep,"  and  to  cast  their  net 
in  the  wide  ocean. 

When  tidings  of  these  things  came  to  the  ears  of  the  church  at 
Jerusalem,  they  were  far  from  feeling  emotions  of  envy.  The  holy 
apostles  were  strangers  to  any  uneasy  sensation  on  finding  that  event 
accomplished  by  meaner  instruments  which  they  had  neglected  to 
attempt.  They  immediately  "  sent  forth  Barnabas,  that  he  should  go 
as  far  as  Antioch  ;  who,  when  he  came  and  saw  the  grace  of  God, 
was  glad,  and  exhorted  them,  that  with  purpose  of  heart  they  should 
cleave  to  the  Lord."  His  character  explains  his  cond\ict ;  for  "  he 
was  a  good  man,  and  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  faith ;  and  much 
people  were  added  unto  the  Lord." 

Not  satisfied  with  contributing  his  own  exertions  to  the  formation 
of  the  work,  he  called  in  superior  aid :  he  [went]  to  "  Tarsus,  to  seek 
Saul ;  and  when  he  had  found  him,  he  brought  him  to  Antioch."  Thus 
this  church,  in  addition  to  other  extraordinary  circumstances,  had  the 
honour  of  being  one  of  the  first  scenes  in  which  the  great  apostle  of 
the  gentiles  laboured.  It  was  here  he  began  to  scatter  those  celestial 
sparks  which  soon  after  kindled  a  general  conflagration  in  the  world. 
"And  it  came  to  pass  that  a  whole  year  they  assembled  themselves 
with  the  church,  and  taught  much  people."  Then  follows  the  cir- 
cumstance on  which  we  have  founded  this  discourse  :  "And  they  were 
called  Christians  first  at  Antioch." 

L  As  the  appellation  of  "Christian"  was  unknown  till  this  time,  it 
is  natural  to  inquire  by  what  appellation  they  were  distinguished  pre- 
viously. From  the  Scriptures  it  appears  there  were  various  names  by 
which  the  followers  of  Christ  were  characterized.  Among  themselves 
the  most  usual  denomination  was  brethren.  "  And  we  came  the  next 
day  to  Puteoli,  where  we  found  brethren."*  "  If  any  man,"  saith  St. 
Paul,  "  that  is  called  a  brother  be  a  fornicator,  or  covetous,  or  an 
idolater,  with  such  an  one  no  not  to  eat."t  They  were  styled 
"  believers  :"  "  And  believers  were  the  more  added  to  the  Lord,  both 
of  men  and  women. ":j:  They  were  denominated  "  disciples  :"  "  There 
went  with  us  also  certain  of  the  disciples  of  Caesarea,  and  brought  with 
them  one  Mnason  of  Cyprus,  an  old  disciple,  with  whom  we  should 
Iodge."§  Their  enemies,  by  way  of  contempt,  styled  them  Nazarenes ; 
thus  TertuUus  accuses  Paul  of  being  "  a  ringleader  of  the  sect  of  the 
Nazarenes. "II  Of  similar  import  to  this  was  the  appellation  of  Gali- 
leans, and  the  term  a'iiniats,  or  sect,  meaning  by  that  a  body  of  men  who 
had  embraced  a  religion  of  their  own  in  opposition  to  that  established 
by  the  law.  And  this  appellation  of  Galileans  was  continued  to  be 
employed  by  the  enemies  of  Christ  as  a  term  of  reproach  as  late  as 
the  time  of  .lulian,  who  reigned  al)out  the  middle  of  tlie  fourth  century, 
and  used  it  incessantly  in  liis  invectives  against  Christians.  The  fol- 
lowers of  Christ  were  also  styled  "  men  of  this  way :"  "  And  I  per* 
secuted  this  loay  unto  the  dealh."r 

*  Acts  xxviil.  13,  11,  t  1  Oor.  v.  11.  t  A'lts  v  14. 

5  Acts  xxi.  16.  II  Acts  xxiv.  5.  If  Acts  xxli.  4. 


OF  THE  NAME  CHRISTIANS.  177 

II.  Another  question  naturally  here  occurs, — Was  this  name  given 
by  human  or  divine  authority  ?  On  this  the  Scriptures  offer  no  certain 
information,  nor  can  any  thing  be  affirmed  with  confidence.  It  is  not 
at  all  probable  an  appellation  so  inoffensive,  and  even  so  honourable, 
originated  with  their  enemies  ;  they  would  have  invented  one  that  was 
more  opprobrious.  But  supposing  it  to  have  been  assumed  first  by  the 
disciples  themselves,  we  can  scarcely  suppose  they  would  have  ventured 
to  take  a  step  so  important  as  that  of  assuming  an  appellation  by  which 
the  church  was  to  be  distinguished  in  all  ages,  without  divine  direction ; 
especially  at  a  time  when  the  extraordinary  gifts  of  the  Spirit  were  so 
common,  and  in  a  church  where  prophets  abounded.  For  "  there  were 
in  the  church  that  was  at  Antioch  certain  prophets  and  teachers  ;  as 
Barnabas,  and  Simeon  that  was  called  Niger,  and  Lucius  of  Cyrene, 
and  Manaen,  which  had  been  brought  up  with  Herod  the  tetrarch,  and 
Saul.*"  Is  it  to  be  supposed  thai  they  would  assume  a  new  appellation 
without  recourse  to  the  prophets  for  that  direction  ;  or  that,  supposing 
it  to  have  had  no  other  than  a  human  origin,  it  would  have  been  so  soon 
and  so  unanimously  adopted  by  every  part  of  the  Christian  church  ? 
This  opinion  receives  some  countenance  from  the  word  here  used, 
which  is  not  in  any  other  instance  applied  to  the  giving  a  name  by 
human  authority.  In  its  genuine  import,  it  bears  some  relation  to  an 
oracle.f  Names,  as  they  are  calculated  to  give  just,  or  false  representa- 
tions of  the  nature  of  things,  are  of  considerable  importance  ;  so  that 
the  affixing  one  to  discriminate  the  followers  of  Christ  in  every  period 
of  time  seems  to  have  been  not  unworthy  of  divine  interposition. 

III.  The  next  inquiry  which  arises  on  this  subject  respects  the 
propriety  and  import  of  this  name. 

1.  Of  its  propriety  no  doubt  can  be  entertained.  It  has  always  been 
usual  in  the  schools  of  philosophy,  and  in  the  sects  arising  out  of  a 
difference  of  opinion  in  religion,  to  give  to  the  partisans  the  name  of  the 
founder.  Thus  the  Platonists  were  so  styled  from  Plato,  the  Pytha- 
goreans from  Pythagoras,  the  Aristotelians  from  Aristotle,  the  Saddu- 
ceans  from  Zadoc.  The  propriety  of  the  followers  of  Christ  taking 
their  name  from  him  was  still  more  striking.  The  respective  leaders 
we  have  mentioned  merely  communicated  their  opinions  to  their 
followers,  and  after  they  quitted  the  present  [state]  had  no  further 
influence  over  them  ;  the  conviction  ceased  for  ever.  It  is  far  otherwise 
with  the  disciples  of  Christ :  he  is  now  as  much  as  ever  their  living- 
head  ;  he  lives  in  them,  and  they  live  by  him.  To  them  he  stands 
in  the  same  relation  as  the  natural  head  to  the  members.  It  is  not  a 
civil,  but  a  vhal — not  a  temporary,  but  a  perpetual  and  eternal  union, 
which  subsists  between  Christ  and  his  followers.  By  a  sacred  and 
mysterious  influence,  he  imparts  his  very  image  to  his  disciples ;  and 
it  is  surely  fit  they  should  receive  their  name  from  him  from  whom 
they  have  derived  their  nature. 

*  Acts  xiii.  1. 

t  Be>Lso7i,  Doddridge,  and  others,  think  that  the  word  xp»?;'aTi(Tai  implies  that  it  was  done  by  a 
divine  direction  But  Parkhurst  tliinks  that  the  passages  quoted  by  Doddridge  do  not  bear  him  out 
in  his  interpretation. — Ed. 

Vol.  III.— M 


178  ON  THE  ORIGIN  AND  IMPORT 

In  bestowing  the  appellation  of  Christians  on  the  disciples  of  Christ, 
God  may  be  considered  as  fulfilling  that  gracious  declaration,  "  Thon 
shall  be  called  by  a  new  name,  which  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  shall 
name  ;"*  "  The  Lord  God  shall  slay  thee,  and  call  his  servants  by 
another  name."t 

It  soon  began  to  prevail  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other.  When 
Peter  wrote  his  first  Epistle,  it  seems  to  have  been  in  familiar  use  : 
"  If  any  man  suffer  as  a  Christian,  let  him  not  be  ashamed  ;  but  let 
him  glorify  God  on  this  behalf.";}:  St.  James  styles  it  "  that  worthy 
name  ;"  it  is  truly  a  most  excellent  and  honourable  appellation  :  "  Do 
they  not  blaspheme  that  worthy  name  by  which  ye  are  called  T^  In 
the  times  of  persecution,  the  only  question  asked  of  such  as  were 
arraigned  at  the  tribunal  of  the  magistrate  was,  "  Are  you  a  Christian  ?" 
To  answer  this  in  the  aflirmative  was  looked  upon  as  in  every  way  to 
justify  the  proceeding  to  the  utmost  extremities.  And  in  the  midst 
of  the  sharpest  torments,  the  martyrs  found  a  relief  and  refreshment 
in  repeating,  at  each  pause  of  agony,  "  I  am  a  Christian." 

2.  The  proper  import  of  this  name  is,  a  follower  of  Christ :  it  denotes 
one  who,  from  mature  deliberation  and  an  unbiassed  mind,  embraces 
the  religion  of  Christ,  receives  his  doctrine,  believes  his  promises,  and 
makes  it  his  chief  habitual  care  to  shape  his  life  by  his  precepts  and 
example. 

The  Christian  and  the  man  of  the  world  are  diametrically  opposite 
characters  ;  since  it  is  a  chief  part  of  our  Saviour's  design,  and  the 
great  scope  of  his  religion,  to  redeem  us  from  the  present  evil  world. 

The  Christian  is  one  who  professes  to  have  attained  such  a  practical 
knowledge  of  Christ  as  enables  him  to  walk  even  as  he  walked.  The 
rules  by  which  he  lives  are  the  words  of  Christ;  his  example  is  the 
model  after  which  he  copies  ;  the  happiness  he  aspires  to  is  that  of 
being  for  ever  with  the  Lord. 

Here  it  is  too  apparent  that  multitudes  assume  the  name  of  Christian, 
to  whom  it  is,  in  strict  propriety,  utterly  inapplicable.  Educated  in  a 
country  where  Christianity  is  the  established  religion,  they  acquiesce 
in  its  truth,  or  perhaps  never  tliought  the  inquiry,  whether  it  were  true 
or  not,  of  sufficient  importance  to  engage  their  attention.  But  to  what- 
ever distinguishes  the  real  (christian — his  faith,  liis  hope,  his  charity; 
to  whatever  relates  to  a  spiritual  union  witli  Christ — faith  in  liis  sacri- 
fice, delight  in  his  person,  or  an  animating  hope  of  his  appearance,  they 
remain  total  and  contented  strangers.  They  neither  have  any  share 
in  these  things,  nor  are  dissatisfied  at  the  consciousness  of  not  possess- 
ing them.  They  feel  no  scruple  in  associating  the  name  of  Clirist  with 
many,  perhaps,  of  the  vices,  and  witli  all  the  spirit  of  the  world.  This 
assumption  of  the  name  of  Christ,  without  aspiring  to  the  least  resem- 
blance to  his  character,  has  done  incalculable  injury  to  the  interest  of 
religion.  To  this,  more  than  to  any  other  cause,  we  must  ascribe  the 
little  progress  vital  Christianity  has  made  in  the  world.  It  is  [this] 
that  imboldens  the  scoffer,  encourages  the  infidel,  the  profligate,  the 

*  Isa.  Ixii.  2.  t  Isa-  Ix''-  15- 

i  1  Pet.  iv.  16.  5  James  ii.  7. 


OF  THE  NAME  CHRISTIANS.  179 

votaries  of  paganism,  and  seals  the  eyes  of  the  impenitent  in  every 
nation  in  deeper  and  more  death-like  slumber  :  "  For  the  name  of  God 
is  blasphemed  among  the  gentiles  through  you,  as  it  is  written."*  The 
time  is  coming  when  the  liOrd  Jesus  will  vindicate  the  honour  of  that 
name  which  wicked  men  have  disgraced.  It  had  been  better  for  them 
not  to  have  named  the  name  of  Christ,  than,  having  named  it,  not  to 
depart  from  all  evil. 

IV.  Let  me  take  occasion  from  these  words  to  urge  you  to  become 
Christians  in  reality  and  truth.  The  name  without  the  reality  will 
only  augment  your  guilt  and  aggravate  your  doom ;  but  the  possession 
of  genuine  religion  will  add  unspeakably  to  your  happiness  both  here 
and  hereafter.  To  be  a  partaker  of  Christ  is  to  be  at  peace  with  God, 
— to  have  peace  of  conscience,  to  possess  a  beneficial  interest  in  all 
things,  and  an  assured  hope  of  life  everlasting.  He  came  that  you 
might  have  life,  and  more  than  life.  He  came  to  give  rest  to  your 
souls,  to  afford  you  strong  consolation  under  the  sorrows  of  the  world, 
support  in  the  hour  of  death,  and  an  entrance,  when  your  mortal  course 
is  ended,  into  the  glory  to  be  revealed.  He  is  ready  to  vanquish  your 
spiritual  enemies  for  you,  to  cleanse  you  from  all  your  impurities,  purge 
you  from  all  your  guilt,  and  make  you  "  meet  to  be  partakers  of  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light."  While  the  bare  profession  of 
Christianity  will  bestow  neither  profit  nor  delight,  the  possession  of  it 
in  reality  will  be  replete  with  botli,  and  will  afibrd  the  "  promise  of  the 
life  that  now  is,  and  of  that,  which  is  to  come."!  It  will  deliver  you 
from  a  thousand  snares  against  which  there  is  no  other  relief;  eman- 
cipate you  from  the  bondage  of  a.  multitude  of  degrading  passions,  and 
invest  you  with  the  "  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God."  However 
lightly  you  may  esteem  it  now,  be  assured  that  the  moment  is  coming 
when  to  belong  to  Christ,  to  be  in  union  with  him,  will  be  felt  to  be  a 
greater  happiness  than  to  be  master  of  the  world.  Every  other  honour 
will  fade;  every  other  distinction  will  pass  away;  every  other  enjoy- 
ment be  exhausted  ;  while  the  crown  of  righteousness  which  Christ 
will  give  to  his  sincere  followers  will  shine  with  undecaying  brightness 
through  the  ages  of  eternity.  Let  the  young  be  persuaded  it  will  add 
unspeakable  grace  to  the  charms  of  youth ;  temper  its  vivacity  with 
wisdom,  tincture  its  passions  with  innocence,  and  form  it  for  a  happy, 
useful,  and  honourable  life.  It  will  be  an  ornament  to  youth,  a  safe 
directory  in  the  active  pursuits  of  life,  a  staff'  and  a  consolation  amid 
the  decays  and  infirmities  of  age.  To  see  you  set  out  in  the  ways 
of  Christ  will  afford  the  highest  satisfaction  to  the  church  of  God  ;  the 
most  exalted  pleasure  to  your  parents,  who  watch  every  movement 
of  your  mind  with  parental  solicitude,  ready  to  rejoice  over  you  with 
transport  when  they  can  say  of  any  of  you,  as  it  was  said  of  Saul, 
"  Behold,  he  prayeth." 

V.  We  cannot  but  look  back  w'ith  regret  to  the  period  when  the 
followers  of  Christ  were  known  by  no  other  name.  Happy  period, 
when,  instead  of  being  rent  into  a  thousand  parts,  and  split  into  innu- 
merable divisions,  the  church  of  Christ  was    "  one    fold  under  one 

♦  Rom.  ii.  24.  f  1  Tim.  iv.  8. 

M2 


180  ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN. 

Shepherd !"  The  seamless  coat  of  the  Redeemer  was  of  one  entire 
piece  from  the  top  to  the  bottom.  The  world  was  divided  into  two 
grand  parties — (Christians  and  pagans.  This  happy  state,  we  have  no 
doubt,  will  occur  again  :  "  The  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and 
the  leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  kid  ;  and  the  sucking  child  shall 
play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall  put  his  hand 
on  the  cockatrice'  den.  They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my 
holy  mountain  :  for  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord."* 

In  consequence  of  a  more  copious  communication  of  the  Spirit,  some 
of  our  differences  of  opinion  will  be  removed,  and  "  the  shepherds  will 
see  eye  to  eye,"  and  others  of  them  will  be  lost  in  the  indulgence  of 
Christian  charity,  in  the  noble  oblivion  of  love. 

In  the  mean  time,  if  party  names  must  subsist,  let  us  carefully  watch 
against  a  party  spirit ;  let  us  direct  our  chief  attention  to  what  consti- 
tutes a  Cliristian,  and  learn  to  prize  most  highly  those  great  truths  in 
which  all  good  men  are  agreed.  In  a  settled  persuasion  that  what  is 
disputed  or  obscure  in  the  system  of  Christianity  is,  in  that  proportion, 
of  little  importance,  compared  to  those  fundamental  truths  which  are 
inscribed  on  the  page  of  revelation  as  with  a  sunbeam  ;  whenever  we 
see  a  Christian,  let  us  esteem,  let  us  love  him  ;  and  though  he  be  weak 
in  faith,  receive  him,  "  not  to  doubtful  disputation." 


XXXVI. 

ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN,  AS  A  CRITERION  OF  A  STATE 
OF  SALVATION. 

1  .loHN  iii.  14. — We  knoiv  that  toe  have  passed  from  death  unto  life, 
because  we  love  the  brethren. 

As  it  is  an  inquiry  of  the  highest  moment  whether  we  are  in  a  state 
of  acceptance  with  God  or  under  condemnation,  we  ought  carefully  to 
attend  to  the  marks  and  criterions  by  which  these  two  opposite  states 
are  distinguished  in  the  word  of  God.  The  Scripture  abounds  with 
pirections  on  this  subject;  so  that  if  we  remain  in  an  habitual  state  of 
suspense  and  uncertainty,  it  is  not  to  be  ascribed  to  deficiency  of  light 
in  the  sacred  oracles,  but  must  be  imputed,  for  the  most  part  at  least, 
to  the  want  of  strict  and  impartial  inquiry.  Too  many  professors  of 
Christianity  content  themselves  without  attaining  a  satisfactory  evi- 
dence of  their  real  character  in  the  sight  of  God  ;  hoping  all  is  well, 
without  resting  on  sure  and  solid  grounds  :  by  which,  if  their  religion  is 
really  vain,  they  incur  the  charge  of  presumption  ;  and  if  it  is  genuine, 
deprive  themselves  of  the  richest  source  of  comfort,  as  well  as  of 
motives  to  the  most  ardent  gratitude.  For  how  is  it  possible  to  praise 
God  for  a  favour  which  we  are  not  certain  we  have  received  ?    Or  if  a 

*  Isa.  xi.  6.  8,  9. 


ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN.  181 

feeble  hope  is  entitled  to  devout  acknowledgment,  our  praises  must 
be  faint  and  languid  in  proponion  to  the  mixture  of  darkness  and  un- 
certainty which  attends  it.  We  are  exhorted  to  give  all  diligence,  that 
we  may  obtain  the  full  assurance  of  hope :  we  should  never  read  in 
the  writings  of  this  eminent  apostle  the  rapturous  exclamation,  "  Be- 
hold, what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we 
should  be  called  the  sons  of  God,"*  had  he  been  in  that  state  of  sus- 
pense respecting  his  prospects  for  eternity  in  which  too  many  Chris- 
tians allow  themselves  to  remain. 

With  a  view  to  assist  the  professors  of  the  gospel  in  their  attempts 
to  ascertain  their  real  condition,  we  request  your  serious  attention 
while  we  endeavour  to  explain  and  illustrate  the  criterion  of  character 
the  apostle  suggests  in  the  text :  "  Hereby  we  know  that  we  have 
passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren." 

Death  and  life  are  the  two  extremes  set  before  us, — spiritual  death 
and  spiritual  life ;  for  in  this  sense,  it  is  obvious,  the  words  must 
be  understood.  When  the  apostle  speaks  of  our  passing  from  death 
unto  life,  the  phraseology  necessarily  implies  that  death  is  our  natural 
state  as  sinners  ;  and,  consequently,  that  he  who  is  perfectly  conscious 
of  his  having  experienced  no  change  is  under  no  necessity  of  inquiring 
further :  he  infallibly  abideth  in  death.  "  He  that  loveth  not  his  brother 
abideth  in  death."!  A  transition  from  one  state  to  another  is  supposed 
in  every  case  where  there  is  a  well-founded  hope  of  salvation ;  and 
the  design  of  the  apostle  in  the  words  before  us  is  to  suggest  an 
infallible  criterion  of  the  reality  of  such  a  transition. 

When  he  speaks  of  love  to  the  brethren,  we  must  understand  liini 
to  mean  love  to  real  Christians,  who  are  frequently,  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, distinguished  by  this  appellation  :  "  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love 
of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for  us  :  and  we  ought  to  lay 
down  our  lives  for  tlie  brethren. "|  In  reproving  the  Corinthians  for 
their  contentious  spirit,  St.  Paul  used  this  language :  "  Brother  goeth 
to  law  with  brother,  and  that  before  the  unbelievers.  Why  do  ye  not 
rather  take  wrong  ?  why  do  ye  not  rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be  de- 
frauded 1  Nay,  ye  do  wrong,  and  defraud,  and  that  your  brethren."^ 
In  this  passage,  it  is  manifest  tliat  the  term  brethren  is  equivalent  to 
Christian,  and  that  it  is  employed  in  contradistinction  to  unbelievers. 
When  the  apostle  lays  down  love  to  real  Christians  as  an  infallible 
sign  and  token  of  a  justified  state,  he  cannot  be  supposed  to  include 
every  sort  of  attachment  which  may  be  felt  towards  them,  from  what- 
ever principles  or  on  whatever  occasion  it  arises.  No  doubt  can  be 
entertained  that  there  are  circumstances  in  which  the  genuine  disciples 
of  Christ  may  be  objects  of  love,  without  its  furnishing  the  least 
evidence  of  a  religious  character.  Religion  may  have  no  sort  of  con- 
cern in  it.  Parents  may  love  their  children,  children  their  parents, 
husbands  their  wives,  and  wives  their  husbands,  whatever  be  the  reli- 
gious character  of  the  party  beloved,  upon  principles  merely  natural. 
The  natural  affections  and  desires,  by  which  society  is  cemented,  and 

•  1  John  iii.  1,  t  1  John  iii.  14.  %  1  John  iii.  16.  $  1  Cor.  vi.  6-8. 


182  ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN. 

mankind  are  bound  to  each  other,  can  afford,  it  is  evident,  no  lest  or 
criterion  of  rehgious  principle. 

True  Christians  may  possess  certain  qualities  Avhich,  according  to 
the  principles  of  liuman  nature,  are  calculated  to  command  a  portion 
of  esteem  and  affection ;  such  as  prudence,  generosity,  kindness,  and 
fidelity :  to  which  nothing  but  a  brutish  insensibility  can  render  men 
entirely  [indifferent.]  There  are  certain  social  and  moral  virtues 
which  are  so  useful  to  the  world,  and  so  attractive  in  themselves,  as  to 
be  the  natural  objects  of  partiality  ;  and  these  Christianity  will  improve, 
rather  than  impair.  We  may  proceed  a  step  further,  and  add,  that  a 
Christian  may  be  even  indebted  to  his  religion  for  certain  qualities 
which  excite  attachment,  and  yet  that  attachment  shall  afford  no  proof 
of  the  religious  character  of  him  who  feels  it :  "  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit 
is  in  all  goodness."*  This  goodness,  this  genuine  benevolence  of 
Christian  deportment,  has  its  charms  ;  and,  on  a  variety  of  occasions, 
may  excite  esteem  in  persons  who  have  no  regard  to  the  principle  from 
whence  it  flows.  "  Demetrius  had  good  report  of  all  men,  and  of  the 
truth  itself."!  When  St.  Paul  had  been  inculcating  certain  Christian 
graces,  he  adds,  he  that  hath  these  things  "  is  acceptable  to  God  and 
approved  of  men. "J  If  we  find  ourselves  overpowered,  as  it  were, 
and  captivated  by  the  display  of  Christian  virtue,  we  are  not  hence 
entitled  immediately  to  draw  a  favourable  conclusion  respecting  our 
state,  without  looking  deeper,  and  inquiring  how  we  stand  aft'ected 
towards  the  principle  whence  these  virtues  emanated. 

This  leads  us  to  observe,  that  it  is  the  ground  on  which  our  attach- 
ment to  a  Christian  is  founded  that  can  alone  afford  a  favourable  de- 
cision in  this  matter.  Do  we  love  the  brethren  as  brethren,  Christians 
as  Christians,  on  account  of  the  relation  they  bear  to  their  heavenly 
Father,  and  on  account  of  their  union  to  Christ  ?  In  any  specific  case, 
when  we  feel  warmly  attached  to  a  Christian,  is  it  founded  on  this 
consideration,  that  he  is  a  Christian,  a  follower  of  the  holy  and  im- 
maculate Lamb  of  God  \  If  we  can  answer  this  question  in  the  affirma- 
tive, St.  John  authorizes  us  in  our  deeming  it  an  infallible  evidence 
of  our  having  passed  from  death  unto  life.  It  affords  such  an  evidence 
in  two  ways: — 

I.  Negatively,  it  proves  that  we  are  not  of  the  world. 

II.  Positively,  it  demonstrates  that  w'e  are  of  God. 

I.  It  proves  that  we  are  not  of  the  world :  for  the  world  is  entirely 
desthute  of  an  attachment  to  tlie  disciples  of  Christ,  as  such.  At  no 
period  did  the  world  appear  favourably  disposed  to  the  disciples  of 
Christ  as  such,  or  on  account  of  their  relation  to  this  their  divine  Head. 
Our  Lord  repeatedly  warned  his  followers  to  expect  just  the  contrary  : 
"Ye  shall  be  hated  of  all  men  for  my  name's  sake."^  "If  ye  were 
of  the  world,  the  world  would  love  its  own :  but  because  ye  are  not 
of  the  world,  but  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  therefore  the 
world  hateth  you."||     "  I  have  given  them  my  word ;  and  the  world 

*  Epti.  V.  9.  t  3  John  12.  X  Rom.  xiv.  18. 

^  Matt.  X.  22.  II  John  xv.  19. 


ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN.  183 

hath  hated  them,  because  they  are  not  of  the  world,  even  as  I  am  not 
of  the  world."* 

The  course  of  events  from  that  to  the  present  time  has  verified  the 
truth  of  the  Saviour's  declaration, — "  They  were  hated  of  all  men  for 
his  name's  sake ;"  they  were  "  persecuted  from  city  to  city,"t  and 
even  the  most  eminent  among  them  accounted  as  "  the  oifscouring  of 
all  things."!  I'^  every  subsequent  age,  and  in  every  country,  the  true 
disciples  of  Christ  have  encountered  opposition,  which  has  been  almost 
invariably  more  or  less  violent  in  proportion  to  their  attachment  to  the 
Saviour,  to  the  purity  of  their  faith,  and  the  lustre  of  their  piety. 
Look  at  the  world  at  present ;  view  it  in  this  highly  favoured  nation, 
furnished  as  it  is  with  wholesome  laws,  and  restrained  from  open  per- 
secution :  do  you  perceive  the  world  to  evince  a  predilection  for  the 
serious  and  earnest  followers  of  Christ?  Is  decided  Christian  piety, 
conspicuous  in  the  character  of  any,  a  passport  to  distinction  and  favour  ? 
On  the  contrary,  will  a  man  be  better  received  in  worldly  circles  for 
being  supposed  to  resemble  Christ?  No.  We  can  be  at  no  loss  to 
answer  these  questions,  or  avoid  perceiving  that  the  world  continues 
invariably  consistent  with  itself  in  "  loving  its  own,"^  and  none  but  its 
own.  If  in  any  instance  its  aflections  stray  beyond  its  own  circle, 
if  in  any  instance  it  extends  its  favourable  regards  to  a  real  Christian, 
it  is  never  on  account  of  his  being  a  Christian, — it  is  never,  as  St.  John 
expresses  it,  "  for  the  truth's  sake,  which  dwelleth  in  bim."||  Since  this 
is  an  unquestionable  fact,  that  the  world  is  thus  unfavourably  disposed 
towards  serious  (Miristians  ;  if  it  be  otherwise  with  us,  h  proves  that 
we  are  "  not  of  the  world  ;"ir  or,  in  other  words,  that  we  have  "  passed 
from  death  unto  life." 

II.  The  love  of  the  brethren,  as  such,  affords  a  positive  proof  of 
our  being  of  God. 

This  will  appear  in  a  clearer  light  if  we  consider  the  grounds  on 
which  love  to  Christians  proceeds  : — 

1.  To  love  Christians,  as  siich^  is  to  love  them  on  account  of  their 
relation  to  God  and  the  Redeemer. 

2.  On  account  of  their  attachment  to  both. 

3.  On  account  of  the  resemblance  which  they  bear  to  these  divine 
Persons. 

].  He  who  loves  Christians  as  such  is  attached  to  them  on  account 
of  their  relation  to  God.  The  Supreme  Being  stands  in  a  peculiar 
relation  to  Christians,  as  their  God  :  He  is  their  "  covenant  God  and 
Father  through  Christ  Jesus."  They  are,  emphatically,  a  peculiar 
treasure  to  him  above  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  They  are  his  pos- 
sessions, his  inheritance,  his  people.  In  every  age  there  have  been  a 
people  in  whom  the  blessed  God  claimed  a  peculiar  interest,  on  whom 
he  fixed  his  special  love,  and  manifested  himself  unto  them,  as  he  does 
not  to  the  world  ;  a  people  who  were  "  the  temple  of  God,"**  the  seat 
of  his  special  presence,  among  whom  he  walked  and  dwelt.  Under 
tlie  Christian  dispensation  true  Christians  compose  this  people.     la 

*  John  xvii.  14.  t  Matt,  xxiii.  34.  }  1  Cor.  iv.  13.  $  Jphn  xv.  19. 

11  2  John  3.  IT  Jotm  xv.  19.  **  l  Cor.  ui.  16. 


184  ON  LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN. 

whatever  interesting  and  endearing  relation  God  stood  to  Abraham,  to 
Isaac,  and  to  Jacob,  he  stands  in  that  same  relation  to  the  sincere 
followers  of  Christ.  They  are  the  objects  of  that  special  love  of 
which  the  Saviour  speaks  in  these  words  :  "  For  the  Father  himself 
loveth  you,  because  ye  have  loved  me,  and  have  believed  that  I  came 
out  from  God."*  To  feel  attached  to  Christians  on  this  account  is  a 
proof  of  a  heart  well  affected  towards  the  Supreme  Being,  reconciled 
to  his  requirements  and  government :  and  as  "  the  carnal  mind  is  en- 
mity against  God,"t  it  affords  an  evidence  that  this  enmity  is  subdued. 
If  we  feel  favourably  towards  the  domestics  of  a  family  on  account  of 
their  relation  to  their  master,  it  is  an  evidence  of  affection  to  the  master 
himself;  it  is  a  fruit  of  it.  The  relation  which  Christians  bear  to  the 
Redeemer  is  still  more  intimate  and  endearing  :  they  are  the  people 
that  were  given  him  to  redeem  before  the  world  [began  ;]  they  are  the 
children  for  whose  sake  he  took  flesh  and  blood ;  they  are  his  pupils, 
his  household,  and  family ;  nay,  more,  his  spiritual  spouse  and  the 
members  of  his  mystical  body.  The  love  of  the  brethren  contemplates 
them  in  that  light,  and  consequently  evinces  a  heart  well  affected 
towards  their  Lord  and  head.  To  give  "  a  cup  of  water  in  the  name 
of  a  disciple"!  shall  not  lose  its  reward, 

2.  On  account  of  their  attachment  to  God,  and  their  zeal  for  the 
interest  of  his  glory.  This  is  so  essential  a  part  of  the  Christian  char- 
acter that  it  cannot  be  separated  from  the  grounds  and  reasons  of  a 
rational  regard  for  Christians,  unless  we  are  supposed  to  be  ruled  by 
a  blind  and  unthinking  impulse.  Our  esteem  for  good  men  will  be 
intimately  blended  with  tlie  consideration  of  their  being  on  God's 
side.  While  the  rest  of  the  world  continue  in  a  state  of  enmity  and 
alienation,  we  must  look  upon  these  as  reconciled,  as  persons  who 
have  given  a  cordial  and  respectful  reception  to  his  ambassadors,  and 
have  renewed  their  alliance,  or  rather  made  their  submission,  upon  the 
gracious  terms  he  was  pleased  to  propose.  "  You,  that  were  enemies 
in  your  mind  by  wicked  works,  yet  now  hath  he  reconciled  in  the  body 
of  his  flesh  through  death."^  And  being  reconciled,  thev  are  employed 
to  manage  his  interests,  to  maintain  his  honour,  and  to  propagate  as 
far  as  possible  the  sentiments  of  loyal  obedience  by  which  they  them- 
selves are  actuated.  These  views  enter  deeply  into  tiie  Christian 
character  and  calling.  How  can  we  give  a  more  unequivocal  evidence 
of  a  loyal  and  affectionate  disposition  towards  the  prince  than  by  abet- 
ting his,  in  opposition  to  the  disaflccted,  party  ?  As  the  case  will  not 
admit  of  neutrality — as  he,  in  such  a  situation,  who  is  not  for  the  prince 
is  necessarily  looked  upon  as  a  rebel,  so  a  cordial  attachment  to  his 
interests  cannot  be  more  decisively  expressed  than  by  a  determined 
[adherence]  to  those  who  cheerfully  submit  to  his  authority,  and  delight 
in  his  government.     "  He  that  knoweth  (iod  heareth  us."|| 

3.  True  Christians  are  distinguished  by  some  peculiar  traits  of  re- 
semblance to  God  and  the  Redeemer  ;  and  this  enters  into  the  grounds 
of  that  regard  for  them  which  the  apostle  speaks  of  in  the  text.    They 

*  John  xvi.  27.  t  Rom.  viii.  7.  t  Matt.  x.  42. 

$  Colons,  i.  2J,  22.  II  1  John  iv.  6. 


ON  THE  DUTY  OF  INTERCESSION.  185 

not  only  adore  the  divine  nature,  but  are  in  some  degree  partakers  of 
it ;  not  only  "  behold  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  but  are  changed 
into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory."*  Their  character  makes  a 
very  distant,  it  is  confessed,  but  yet  a  real,  approach  to  the  absolute 
rectitude  of  the  Divine,  which  they  [constantly]  study  and  imitate, 
[until]  they  are  presented  before  him  unblameable  in  holiness.  In 
regeneration  some  traces  of  the  paternal  image  are  impressed ;  and 
with  that  strange,  that  more  than  natural  aftection  it  becomes  them  to 
feel  towards  such  a  parent,  they  become  "  followers  of  God,  as  dear 
children."!  If  they  profess  to  have  fellowship  with  God,  they  evince 
that  profession  to  be  no  empty  boast,  by  walking  in  the  light  as  he  who 
is  in  the  light.  If  they  profess  to  know  Christ,  to  have  a  sacred  inti- 
macy with  him,  they  justify  the  pretension  in  some  good  degree  by 
walking  as  he  also  walked,  by  doing  righteousness  as  he  also  did. 

To  feel  an  attachment  to  Christians  on  this  account  is  an  unequivo- 
cal proof  of  a  love  of  rectitude,  a  love  of  God,  an  attachment  to  those 
great  moral  properties  in  which  the  true  beauty  of  the  Divine  character 
consists. 

Close  with  three  remarks. 

I.  The  criterion  supplied  in  the  text  may  be  inverted.  If  we  do  not 
love  Christ,  other  love  will  discover  itself  by  the  choice  of  our  society. 

II.  It  is  not  only  a  safe,  but  a  useful  criterion  suggested  in  the  text, 
which  may  be  applied  to  great  advantage.  We  may  see  the  sun 
through  the  water  when  we  cannot  look  upon  it  in  its  place  in  the 
heavens. 

III.  It  should  be  our  care  to  improve  in  this  part  of  the  Christian 
character,  to  abound  therein  more  and  more. 

Love  is  the  characteristic  of  the  Christian. 


XXXVII. 

ON  THE  DUTY  OF  INTERCESSION. 

1  Tim.  ii.  1. — I  exhort,  therefore,  that  supplications,  prayers,  interces- 
sions, and  giving  of  thanks  he  made  for  all  men. 

I.  DUTV. 

1.  The  reasons  and  obligations  of  prayer  arise  out  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  religion — the  belief  that  there  is  a  God,  and  that  he  is 
"  the  rewarder  of  such  as  diligently  seek  him."  The  duty  of  interces- 
sion, or  praying  for  others,  springs  from  the  relation  we  stand  in  to  our 
fellow-creatures.  As  the  former  is  an  essential  part  of  piety,  so  the 
latter  is  a  branch  of  benevolence,  not  less  essential.  To  love  our  neigh- 
bour as  ourselves  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  second  table  of  the  law.  Un- 
less we  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer  we  have  no  pretensions  to  the 

*  2  Cor.  iii.  18.  t  Ephes.  v.  1. 


186  ON  THE  DUTY  OF  INTERCESSION. 

character  of  Christians  ;  but  if  we  are  convinced  that  the  prayer  of  tlie 
righteous  avails,  we  have  no  right  to  withhold  from  those  we  ourselves 
are  bound  to  love  this  advantage,  especially  as  it  is  a  benefit  which  it 
is  always  in  our  power  to  confer  without  loss  or  detriment  to  ourselves. 
In  almost  every  other  instance,  the  favour  we  confer  seems  at  least  to 
come  into  competition  with  the  claims  of  self-interest ;  but  m  this  there 
is  no  possible  interference  or  intrusion. 

Here  only  are  we  able  fitly  to  imitate  the  Supreme  Being,  who  im- 
parts to  all  without  diminishing  his  own  store.  The  dutv  of  mterces- 
sion  is  also  recommended  and  enforced  by  this  important  consideration, 
that  it  opens  a  chanuel  in  which  the  benevolence  of  every  individual 
may  flow.  To  afford  pecuniary  relief  is  the  privilege  of  the  rich  ;  to 
guide  the  councils  of  a  nation,  of  the  wise  ;  to  ensure  victory  by  arms, 
of  the  powerful :  but  the  most  obscure  person  may  intercede,  and  by 
this  means  promote  the  welfare  of  millions,  and  affect  the  destiny  of 
nations. 

2.  That  we  are  [led]  to  infer  this  duty  from  the  general  principles 
of  reason  and  religion.  It  is  implied  in  the  social  form  of  the  prayer 
taught  by  our  Lord,  where  we  are  commanded  to  address  God  as  our 
Father.  It  is  expressly  enjoined  by  apostolic  authority,  in  the  passage 
now  under  consideration.  It  is  also  a  duty  exemplified  by  the  practice 
of  the  most  eminent  saints.  Abraham  interceded  for  Sodom,  Job  for 
his  friends,  Moses  for  the  people  of  Israel,  Samuel  for  Saul,  &c.  In- 
tercession formed  a  principal  branch  of  the  priestly  function  of  the 
law.  Our  great  High-priest  spent  some  of  the  most  precious  mo- 
ments near  the  end  of  his  earthly  course  in  interceding  with  his  Father, 
not  only  on  behalf  of  his  disciples,  but  of  all  who  should  "  afterward 
believe  on  his  name." 

The  apostle  assures  us,  it  is  by  virtue  of  his  continued  intercession 
in  heaven  that  he  is  "  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  come  to  God 
by  him  ;"  so  that  in  his  hands  it  is  the  refuge  of  the  guilty,  the  hope 
of  the  perishing,  a  mysterious  chain  fastened  to  the  throne  of  God,  the 
stay  and  support  of  a  sinking  world. 

H.  The  benefits  of  intercession ;  which  may  be  considered  in  two 
lights, — as  they  respect  ourselves,  and  as  they  regard  others. 

1.  As  they  respect  ourselves. 

(1.)  It  will  have  a  happy  tendency  to  increase  our  benevolence.  As 
the  love  of  God  and  of  man  make  up  the  whole  of  religion,  so  there  is 
nothing  more  likely  to  promote  the  love  of  our  fellow-creatures  than 
the  bearing  them  in  our  minds  before  the  throne  of  Grace.  How  can 
we  fail  to  feel  concern  for  the  happiness  of  those  for  whom  we  pray? 

Either  our  petitions  must  be  full  of  hypocrisy,  or  our  good  wishes  to 
them  must  he  hearty  and  sincere.  To  pray  for  their  welfare,  and  yet 
be  indifferent,  would  constitute  the  grossest  dissimulation.  In  ven- 
turing to  address  the  Supreme  Being  in  their  behalf,  we  assume  the 
character  of  advocates.  To  be  indilferent  to  their  welfare  is  to  belie 
the  character  and  betray  our  trust.  That  criminal  self-love  which  is 
the  great  reproach  of  our  nature  is  grown  to  such  a  height  principally 
in  consequence  of  our  habitual  inattention  to  the  situation  of  others. 


ON  THE  DUTY  OF  INTERCESSION.  187 

We  contemplate  ourselves  and  our  own  circumstances,  till  we  almost 
forget  there  are  any  other  beings  in  ttie  world.  When  we  can  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  step  out  of  this  narrow  circle,  and  look  at  the  distresses 
and  anxieties  which  those  around  us  have  to  encounter,  a  generous 
compassion  is  excited,  the  tenderness  of  nature  is  touched,  and  our  own 
troubles  appear  light  and  inconsiderable.  Most  of  our  vices,  my  breth- 
ren, may  be  traced  to  a  want  of  reflection.  And  what  is  the  best  remedy 
for  this  thoughtlessness  and  vanity,  as  far  as  it  respects  our  duty  to 
others  1     Intercession. 

In  solemn  intercession  with  God  the  misery,  the  helplessness,  and 
dependence  of  our  fellow-mortals,  or  rather  of  our  fellow-immortals,  rise 
in  view  with  all  their  affecting  peculiarities  ;  at  those  moments,  when 
the  mind  is  the  most  calm,  tender,  and  elevated — at  those  moments  when 
none  but  God  can  enter — when  we  feel  our  own  nothingness  before  Him 
who  is  all  in  all.  When  we  have  been  "  spreading  before  the  Lord"  the 
circumstances  of  an  orphan  who  has  no  friend,  of  a  widow  who  has  no 
protector,  of  an  unhappy  man  who  is  under  the  dominion  of  lusts  which 
are  hurrying  him  fast  to  eternal  destruction  ;  is  it  possible  to  rise  from 
our  knees  without  feeling  sentiments  the  most  noble,  tender,  and  disinter- 
ested ;  without  feeling  in  some  measure  what  Paul  felt  when  he  said, 
"  Who  is  weak  and  I  am  not  weak  ;    who  is  offended  and  I  burn  not  f 

Is  it  possible  to  return  immediately  into  ourselves,  and  to  behave 
with  unfeeling  insolence,  as  though  the  world  were  made  for  us  ;  instead 
of  remembering  that  we  are  a  small  part  of  an  immense  whole,  an  incon- 
siderable member  of  a  vast  family  ? 

As  we  are  concerned  to  employ  prayer  and  intercession  for  all  men, 
that  narrowness  of  mind  which  confines  our  solicitude  to  a  small  circle 
instead  of  all  within  our  reach,  universal  good  or  ill,  \vill  be  the  most 
effectually  promoted  or  remedied. 

If  we  comply  in  any  tolerable  measure  with  this  apostolic  injunction, 
by  off^ering  solemn  prayer  for  the  happiness  of  the  world  and  the  pros- 
perity of  the  church,  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  and  the  salvation 
of  the  whole  earth,  in  proportion  as  our  thoughts  diffuse  themselves, 
our  hearts  will  necessarily  become  enlarged. 

(2.)  It  will  be  the  best  antidote  against  all  angry  and  malignant 
passions. 


.  We  may  consider  the  benefit  of  intercession  as  it  respects  others. 

There  is  a  remarkable  passage  in  Ezekiel  xiv.  14  :  "  Though  these 
three  men,  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job,  were  in  it,  they  should  deliver  but 
their  own  souls  by  their  righteousness,  saith  the  Lord  God." 

From  this  passage  we  may  infer  two  things  : — First,  that  there  are 
seasons  when  even  the  intercession  of  the  most  eminent  will  not  avail; 
seasons  in  which  it  is  unalterably  determined  to  inffict  punishment. 
Secondly,  we  may  infer  that  these  are  so  rare  and  so  extraordinary, 
that  to  declare  he  will  not  turn  away  for  intercession  is  the  strongest 
token  of  his  fierce  indignation. 

(L)  If  God  delights  to  hear  prayer,  it  is  most  reasonable  to  believe 


188  ON  THL  DUTY  OF  INTERCESSION. 

he  will  favourably  regard  intercessory  prayer  ;  for  then  the  supplicant  is 
exercising  two  most  important  virtues  at  once, — piety  and  benevolence. 
He  is  then  employed  in  fulfilling  the  whole  law,  and  makes  the  nearest 
approach  to  the  Divine  nature. 

(2.)  Examples  of  its  success ; — Abraham,  Moses,  and  Job. 


III.  General  objects  of  intercession. 

1.  Our  civil  governors.  We  are  under  the  strongest  obligations  to 
this,  on  account  of  the  inestimable  benefits  involved  in  good  govern- 
ment, which,  like  the  natural  health  of  the  body,  is  indispensably  ne- 
cessary to  our  happiness,  yet  is  scarcely  perceived  till  it  be  interrupted. 
We  of  this  country  are  under  peculiar  obligations  to  this  duty. 

2.  The  church,  "  the  mother  of  us  all,"  from  whom  we  are  born, 
at  whose  breasts  we  have  been  nourished  with  the  "  sincere  milk  of 
the  word."  "  For  Zion's  sake  will  I  not  hold  my  peace,  and  for  Jeru- 
salem's sake  I  will  not  rest,  until  the  righteousness  thereof  go  forth  as 
brightness,  and  the  salvation  thereof  as  a  lamp  that  burneth.  And 
the  gentiles  shall  see  thy  righteousness,  and  all  kings  thy  glory :  and 
thou  shalt  be  called  by  a  new  name,  which  the  mouth  of  the  Lord 
shall  name."*  Let  us  pray  for  its  extension,  for  its  peace,  for  its  purity, 
for  the  accomplishment  of  all  the  promises  made  to  it. 

3.  The  distressed  of  every  description  have  peculiar  claims  to  our 
prayers.  Indigent  Christians,  who  ever  appear  to  be  in  a  peculiar 
manner  the  objects  of  compassion,  will  share  in  our  petitions  to  a 
throne  of  Grace.  To  pray  for  others  is  the  best  salve  and  relief  of 
powerless  benevolence.  For  where  can  we  turn  our  eyes  without 
seeing  persons  misled  by  error  and  delusion  which  we  wish  in  vain  to 
arrest,  made  wretciied  by  vices  which  we  cannot  reform,  or  oppressed 
with  misery  it  is  out  of  our  power  to  avert  ?  Must  it  not,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, furnish  the  greatest  incitement  to  go  into  the  presence 
of  that  Being  to  whom  it  is  infinite  mercy  to  heal  the  maladies  of  mind 
and  body,  and  to  do  "  for  us,  and  for  all  men,  above  all  we  can  ask  or 
think?"  When  we  have  thus  commended  the  case  of  our  distressed 
fellow-creatures  to  the  Divine  notice — when  we  have  thus  committed 
them,  as  it  were,  into  the  arms  of  our  heavenly  Father — we  feel  calm : 
our  compassion  grows  softer,  while  it  loses  its  anxiety,  and  our  benevo- 
lence, like  his,  becomes  strong  and  glowing,  without  solicitude. 

4.  Our  friends  and  relatives. 

#****  *.  *  » 

Application. 

•  Isaiah  Ixii.  1,  2.  " 


GOD'S  ETERNITY.  189 


XXXVIII. 

GOD'S  ETERNITY  CONSIDERED,  IN  REFERENCE  TO  THE 
SUSPENSION  OF  HIS  PROMISED  PURPOSES. 

2  Pet.  iii.  8. — But,  beloved,  he  not  ignorant  of  this  one  thing,  that  one 
day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as 
one  day* 

That  spirit  of  prophecy  with  which  the  holy  apostles  were  endowed 
enabled  them  to  foretel  the  principal  defections  from  the  Christian 
faith  which  should  distinguish  the  last  days, — the  papal  superstition 
and  infidel  impiety. 

We  have  long  witnessed  the  fulfilment  of  both  these  predictions : 
the  gross  idolatry,  cruel  edicts,  and  tyrannical  claims  of  the  Church  of 
Rome  have  been  for  ages  promulgated ;  and  now  that  superstition 
appears  to  be  in  its  dotage,  and  falling  fast  into  decay,  a  new  progeny 
has  arisen — a  scoffing,  infidel  spirit. 

They  founded  their  disbelief  of  Christ's  coming  to  destroy  the  world, 
to  judge  the  wicked,  and  to  reward  his  servants,  on  the  pretended  uni- 
formity of  the  course  of  nature.  No  event  which  bears  any  resem- 
blance to  that  which  the  gospel  foretels,  they  pretend,  has  ever  taken 
place.  In  affirming  this,  the  apostle  charges  them  with  "  wilful 
ignorance"  [of  the  destruction  of  the  world  by  water.] 

He  then  proceeds  to  declare  that  the  heavens,  which  at  present  sub- 
sist, are  reserved  for  a  similar  catastrophe,  and  are  doomed  to  undergo 
a  more  signal  overthrow.  Nor  can  any  argument  be  deduced  against 
the  certain  accomplishment  of  the  divine  declarations,  from  the  seeming 
length  of  the  time  during  which  their  execution  is  delayed  :  since 
"  one  day  is  with  God  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as 
one  day." 

In  attempting  to  improve  these  words,  we  shall, 

I.  Endeavour  to  illustrate  their  import,  and  establish  the  truth  of  the 
proposition  which  they  contain. 

II.  Show  to  what  particular  uses  the  truth  which  they  exhibit  may 
be  applied. 

I.  Let  us  attempt  to  illustrate  the  assertion,  "  One  day  is  with  the 
Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day." 

It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  enter  into  the  sense  and  meaning  of  the 
apostle  in  these  words,  to  consider  on  what  occasion  they  were  intro- 
duced. 

They  are  designed  as  an  answer  to  the  objections  which  irreligious 
scoffers  advance  against  the  certainty  of  the  accomplishment  of  the 
divine  declarations,  founded  on  its  long  delay.  Impatient  and  short- 
sighted mortals  are  apt  to  suppose  that  what  is  delayed  long  will  never 

*  Preached  at  Leicester,  Sunday,  January  6th,  1811 ;  the  first  Sunday  in  the  new  year. 


190  GOD'^  ETERNITY. 

take  place  ;  that  an  evil  which  has  been  long  apprehended,  but  through 
a  series  of  ages  has  never  actually  taken  place,  need  be  dreaded  no 
more,  but  may  be  safely  classed  among  the  phantoms  of  a  vain  terror. 

In  reply  to  this,  the  apostle  states  that  "  one  day  is  with  the  Lord 
as  a  thousand  years  ;"  and  that  long  and  short,  when  applied  to  a  part 
of  duration,  are  not  the  same  in  his  apprehension  as  ours :  that  what 
appears  a  long  time  to  us  does  not  appear  so  to  him,  whose  estimate 
is  so  difierent,  and  whose  views  are  so  much  more  extended.  A  thou- 
sand years  seem  to  us  a  very  long  period,  but  in  his  eyes  appear  ex- 
tremely short ;  they  are  but  as  a  day. 

This  idea  of  the  difierent  apprehension  which  God  has  of  time  from 
what  we  possess,  is  exhibited  in  several  passages  of  Scripture  :  "  A 
thousand  years  in  thy  sight  are  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is  past,  and 
as  a  watch  in  the  night."*  To  the  same  purpose  spake  the  royal 
Psalmist,  in  the  39th  Psalm  :  "  Make  me  know  mine  end,  and  the 
measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is  ;  that  I  may  know  how  frail  I  am. 
Behold,  thou  hast,  made  my  days  as  an  handbreadih ;  and  mine  age  is 
as  nothing  before  thee."t 

1.  Every  portion  of  duration  is  something  real,  and  has  a  true  and 
proper  existence ;  but  the  epithets  great  and  small,  when  applied  to 
this  (as  well  as  to  any  thing  else),  are  merely  comparative.  They 
necessarily  imply  a  comparison  of  one  quantity  with  another,  without 
which  they  can  never  be  applied  with  justice  ;  for  what  is  great  com- 
pared with  one  quantity  becomes,  at  the  same  moment,  little  when 
compared  with  anotlier,  and  vice  versa. 

Thus,  fourscore  years  are  at  present  considered  as  a  great  age ; 
but  would  not  have  been  called  so  before  the  [general  deluge].  That 
age  is  now  styled  great  with  propriety,  because  it  is  so  compared  with 
the  usual  term  of  life,  which  is  considerably  less  ;  and,  for  an  opposite 
reason,  it  would  before  the  flood  have  been  styled  small,  because  it 
would  have  been  so  compared  with  the  average  term  of  human  life  at 
that  period,  which  was  much  greater.  We  should  consider  fifty  years 
as  forming  a  very  large  portion  of  human  life ;  but  the  same  number 
of  years  in  the  history  of  an  empire  would  be  justly  considered  small. 
Thus  is  the  same  quantity  either  great  or  small  as  you  place  it  by  the 
side  of  something  nuich  inferior  to  it  in  magnitude,  or  much  superior. 

2.  Hence  it  results  that  absolute  greatness  belongs  onlv  to  what  is 
infinite  ;  for  whatever  falls  short  of  this,  however  great  it  may  appear, 
its  supposed  greatness  is  entirely  owing  to  the  incidental  absence  of 
another  object  that  is  greater.  It  may  be,  it  will  be,  infallibly  reduced 
to  insignificance,  the  moment  it  comes  into  comparison  with  that  which 
is  so  prodigiously  superior  to  it. 

3.  In  duration,  al)s()hite  greatness  belongs  only  to  eternity.  The 
epithet  great,  or  whatever  other  is  most  expressive  of  the  profoundest 
astonishment,  is,  with  the  utmost  propriety,  applied  to  that  unfathom- 
able abyss.  Incapable  of  being  placed  in  any  light,  or  brought,  even 
by  imagination,  into  any  comparison  which  should  reduce  it  to  insignifi- 

*P8aImxc.  4.  t  PsalmxxxLx.  4,  5. 


GOD'S  ETERNITY.  191 

canee,  it  asserts  its  pre-eminence,  and  vindicates  its  majesty,  in  all 
places  and  [times],  in  all  the  possible  varieties  of  being,  or  combinations 
of  thought. 

4.  We  must  then  conceive  that  He  who  has  subsisted  throughout 
eternal  ages  ;  who  knows  no  "  beginning  of  days,  nor  end  of  years  ;"  who 
possesses  eternity ;  to  whom  all  its  parts  (if  we  may  be  allowed  so  to 
speak)  are  continually  open,  both  past  and  future ;  must  have  a  very 
different  apprehension  of  that  inconsiderable  portion  of  it  we  call  time, 
from  creatures  who  are  acquainted  with  no  other.  His  apprehension, 
we  may  easily  conceive,  will  be,  in  this  respect,  very  different ;  and 
that  what  to  us  appears  a  large  portion  will  in  his  eyes  appear  very 
inconsiderable. 

Nor  let  any  one  here  object,  and  say  it  must  appear  as  it  is,  and, 
therefore  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  it  appears  to  him  different  from 
what  it  does  to  us.  No  doubt  it  appears  to  him  exactly  as  it  is.  His 
apprehensions  are,  unquestionably,  agreeable  to  the  nature  of  things  ; 
but  it  does  not  follow  from  thence  that  it  must  appear  in  the  same  light 
as  it  does  to  us :  and  if  there  may  be  a  difference,  it  is  surely  the 
highest  presumption  to  make  ourselves  the  standard. 

That  each  portion  of  duration  appears  to  him  real  we  admit ;  we 
are  not  contending  for  its  being  annihilated  in  his  view.  Something  it 
is,  and  something  it  appears,  unquestionably,  in  his  eyes,  who  views 
things  as  they  are  ;  but  this  is  far  from  proving  that  a  limited  portion 
of  duration  must  appear  to  him  of  the  same  precise  magnitude  as  it 
does  in  our  eyes. 

We  know,  by  experience,  how  susceptible  we  are  of  a  diversity  of 
apprehension  in  this  respect ;  and  that  at  some  periods,  and  in  some 
situations,  the  same  portion  of  time  appears  much  longer  than  at  others. 
In  circumstances  of  extreme  misery,  the  moments  seem  to  linger,  and 
the  lapse  of  time  is  slow.  How  long  would  a  few  minutes  appear 
passed  in  excruciating  torment !  In  a  season  of  anxious  expectation, 
which  has  a  portion  of  misery  in  it,  the  same  effect  is  experienced  in  a 
lower  degree.  On  the  contrary,  in  a  state  of  enjoyment  the  hours 
seem  to  take  wings,  and  we  are  but  little  sensible  of  the  progress  of 
time.  When  the  mind  is  fully  engaged  on  a  delightful  subject,  when 
the  attention  is  deeply  absorbed  in  a  pleasing  train  of  reflection,  we 
become  scarcely  conscious  that  any  space  of  time  has  elapsed.  We 
must  infer  from  hence  that  perfect  happiness  diminishes  inconceivably 
the  impression  of  time  ;  as,  on  the  contrary,  intense  misery  increases  it. 

Among  all  the  conceptions  we  form  of  the  Supreme  Being,  there  is 
none  the  propriety  of  which  we  can  less  doubt  than  of  his  perfect 
happiness ;  nor  have  any  who  have  believed  on  him  failed  to  ascribe 
to  him  this  perfection  in  the  highest  possible  degree.  He  is  styled  in 
Scripture  "  the  blessed  and  only  Potentate,"  the  happy  God :  and  as 
he  is  the  fountain  of  all  happiness  to  his  creatures,  it  resides  in  him 
as  in  its  utmost  plenitude — as  in  its  proper  seat.  If  his  gracious  pres- 
ence is  such  a  perpetual  spring  of  felicity ;  if  it  is  at  "  his  right-hand 
there  are  pleasures  for  evermore  ;"  how  much  must  he  enjoy  every 
moment  in  the  contemplation  of  his  perfections,  in  the  survey  of  his 


192  GOD'S  ETERNITY. 

works  and  designs,  and  in  the  possession  of  his  consciousness  of  his 
supreme  dominion  and  transcendent  excellence,  his  unutterable  and 
unbounded  felicity ! 

Conceive,  then,  of  a  Being  absolutely  independent,  and  existing  from 
eternity  ;  in  the  enjoyment  of  infinite  happiness,  always  master  of  his 
purpose,  never  perplexed  with  difficulty,  never  agitated  with  anxious 
expectation,  resting  on  his  own  all-sufficiency,  and  viewing  with  compla- 
cency each  attribute  of  his  infinite  fulness.  What,  then,  is  an  age  in 
his  view,  compared  to  what  it  is  in  the  eyes  of  mortals  ?  Surely  with 
such  a  Being  "  one  day  must  be  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand 
years  as  one  day." 

Admiration  is  in  most  instances  the  offspring  of  ignorance  ;  at  least, 
it  implies  a  limitation  of  the  views :  so  that  an  object  shall  appear 
great  in  the  contemplation  of  one  man,  which,  to  another  of  more 
elevated  and  capacious  powers,  shall  appear  small  and  inconsiderable. 
But,  to  an  infinite  understanding,  nothing  can  appear  great  that  does 
not  partake  of  its  own  infinity.  The  Supreme  Mind,  and  that  alone, 
grasps  eternity,  possesses  it  every  moment.  He  not  only  comprehends, 
but  constitutes,  eternal  duration,  by  enduring  "  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting;" for  there  could  be  no  eternal  duration  if  something  did  not 
always  endure:  we  cannot  conceive  of  its  existence  but  as  a  mode  of 
being,  and  that  being  is  God. 

The  measure  by  which  he  estimates  time  is,  consequently,  quite 
different  from  that  which  we  are  compelled  to  apply  in  its  contem- 
plation. We  measure  one  portion  of  duration  by  another  ;  he  measures 
time  by  eternity.  How  inconceivably  different  must  be  the  appre- 
hension arising  from  these  difierent  methods  of  considering  it  !  In 
attempting  to  form  a  conception  of  endless  duration,  we  are  under  the 
necessity  of  accumulating  ages  upon  ages,  and  multiplying  millions  of 
ages  into  millions ;  accompanied  with  this  conviction,  that  we  have 
arrived  no  nearer  to  an  adequate  comprehension  of  it ;  that  there 
remains  beyond  us  an  infinitely  larger  space  than  we  have  travelled 
over.  To  his  view  it  is  every  moment  present  :  to  him  it  is  familiar, 
as  his  element,  his  habitation  ;  and  from  that  stupendous  elevation  he 
looks  down  upon  the  scenes  of  time  and  the  lapse  of  ages.  These 
reflections  may  assist  us  to  conceive  how  to  him  one  day  must  neces- 
sarily be  as  "  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand   years  as  one  day." 

n.   The  use  to  which  the  doctrine  of  the  text  may  be  applied. 

1.  It  removes  the  ground  of  objection  against  the  fulfihnent-of  the 
divine  declarations  arising  from  the  accomplishment  being  long 
delayed. 

If  some  time  is  to  be  allotted  for  preparation,  some  space  for  opera- 
tion, it  surely  belongs  to  (iod  to  determine  of  what  extent  it  should  be  ; 
this,  perhaps,  you  will  admit.  But  why  so  long  a  space  ?  But  in 
whose  eyes  is  it  long  ?  In  yours,  who  are  but  the  creatures  of  a  day, 
who  are,  from  the  narrowness  of  your  views,  liable  to  perpetual  illusions 
and  deception?  or  in  CJod's  ?  And,  amid  this  diversity  of  appre- 
hension, can  you  hesitate  in  deciding  which  is  correct? 

No  slackness  in  his  purpose  is  then  to  be  imputed  to  him,  according 


THE  LORD'S-DAY.  193 

to  what  men  account  slackness  ;  no  unsteadiness  in  his  resolution,  no 
revokitioii  of  his  determination. 

Nothing-  is  to  be  concluded  in  favour  of  the  impunity  of  prosperous 
vice,  nor  of  the  final  neglect  of  oppressed  and  afflicted  piety.  The 
prosperity  of  the  wicked  is  but  for  a  moment :  "  I  have  seen  the 
wicked  in  great  power,  and  spreading  like  a  green  bay-tree :  yet  I 
passed  by,  and  he  was  not ;  yea,  1  sought  him  out,  but  he  could  not 
be  found." 

2.  It  accounts  for  the  peculiar  cast  of  Scripture  language  when 
employed  in  announcing  the  coming  of  Christ,  and  the  end  of  all  things. 

3.  Though  we  cannot  immediately  change  our  senses,  let  us  endeav- 
our to  conform  our  ideas  and  convictions  to  the  dictates  of  Infallible 
Wisdom  on  this  subject.  Let  us  consider  the  whole  duration  of  things 
here  as  very  short. 

The  more  we  drink  into  the  spirit  of  the  Scriptures,  the  more  will 
this  be  the  case. 


XXXIX. 

THE  LORD'S-DAY  COMMEMORATIVE  OF  CHRIST'S 
RESURRECTION. 

Psalm  cxviii.  24. —  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made  ;  we  will 
rejoice  and  be  glad  i?i  it. 

This  Psalm  appears  to  have  been  composed  on  David's  accession 
to  the  dominion  over  all  Israel ;  when  he  had  subdued  his  enemies 
around,  and  completely  established  himself  as  a  great  and  victorious 
prince.  It  was  probably  set  to  music  on  the  anniversary  of  David's 
coronation.  That  was  a  most  joyful  event.  As  a  very  important 
passage  in  [this  Psalm]  is  applied  to  Christ,  both  by  himself  and  his 
apostles,  no  doubt  can  be  entertained  of  its  referring,  in  its  fullest  and 
sublimest  sense,  to  the  person  and  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer.  In  this 
light  I  shall  consider  it  in  the  following  discourse :  and  as  the  Lord's- 
day  is  appointed  to  commemorate  the  resurrection  of  our  Saviour,  at 
which  his  kingdom  commenced,  I  shall  endeavour  to  invite  your  atten- 
tion to  those  sources  of  religious  joy  which  are  opened  by  that  event. 
The  event  which  this  day  is  designed  to  celebrate  is  calculated  to 
afford  joy  on  the  following  accounts : — 

I.  On  this  day  the  purcliase  of  our  redemption  was  completed. 

In  order  to  render  the  salvation  of  sinners  consistent  with  the  lioliness 
and  justice  of  the  Divine  nature,  some  great  moral  expedient  became 
necessary.  The  expedient  which  the  Divine  Wisdom  adopted  was 
the  substitution  of  the  Son  of  God  in  the  room  of  sinners  ;  who  freely 
consented  to  assume  our  nature,  and  to  sustain  those  sufferings  which 

Vol.  III.— N 


194  THE  LORD'S-DAY  COMMEMORATIVE 

the  Father  deemed  requisite  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  justice,  and 
especially  the  suffering  of  death.  Though  the  merit  of  his  obedience 
is  more  eminently  ascribed  in  Scripture  to  his  death  ("He  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross"),  yet  we  are  justified 
in  considering  all  the  humiliation  he  endured  during  his  abode  on 
earth  as  forming  a  part  of  his  merit,  and  consequently  of  the  price  of 
our  redemption.  His  voluntary  condescension  in  coming  into  our 
world,  his  assuming  our  nature  itself,  with  all  its  infirmities  and  sorrows, 
formed  an  important  part  of  his  merit,  because  he  was  under  no  pre- 
vious obligation  to  da  it. 

His  merit,  as  far  as  it  was  the  result  of  his  sufferings,  was  composed 
of  three  parts  :■ — 

1.  His  assumption  of  human  nature  itself;  which,  as  he  was  under 
no  previous  obligation  of  doing,  was  in  the  highest  degree  meritorious. 

2.  The  endurance  of  evils  which  were  not  necessarily  included  in 
it ;  such  as  poverty,  contempt,  and  innumerable  privations. 

.3.  [His]  death ;  the  efficacy  of  which  was  specific,  resulting  not 
merely  from  it  as  suffering,  but  as  that  precise  species  of  suffering 
which  the  law  inflicted  on  disobedience:  "In  the  day  thou  eatest 
thereof,  thou  shalt  die."  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  The  pain  of 
death  terminated  when  he  cried,  "  It  is  finished !"  but  the  humiliation 
still  remained  until  his  resurrection. 

Justice  is  now  satisfied,  the  law  is  magnified  and  made  honourable. 
The  majesty  of  heaven  and  earth  appear  in  the  person  of  the  Saviour, 
with  an  inviting  benignity  dressed  in  smiles,  proclaiming  peace  from 
tl:e  cross  "  to  them  lliat  are  nigh,  and  to  them  that  are  far  ofl'." 

II.  On  this  day  the  character  of  C'hrist  was  illustriously  vindicated, 
and  his  pretensions  fully  asserted  and  sustained.  During  his  life  he 
laboured  under  the  accusation  of  deceiving  the  people  ;  his  miraculous 
works  were  imputed  to  diabolical  agency,  and  death  [was]  inflicted  on 
him  under  the  character  of  a  blasphemer,  because  he  affirmed  himself 
to  be  the  Son  of  God :  he  was  "  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with 
power,  according  to  the  spirit  of  holiness,  by  the  resurrection  from  the 
dead."*  "  Then  said  Jesus  unto  them.  When  ye  have  lifted  up  the 
Son  of  man,  then  shall  ye  know  that  I  am  he,  and  that  I  do  nothing  of 
myself;  but  as  my  Father  hath  taught  me,  I  do  these  things."! 

The  grand  proof  of  Christ's  messiahship  is  his  resurrection. 

To  witness  his  resurrection  was  the  principal  office  of  the  apostles  : 
"  Wherefore  of  these  men  which  have  companied  with  us  all  the  time 
that  the  Ivord  Jesus  went  in  and  out  among  us,  beginning  from  the 
baptism  of  John,  until  that  same  day  that  he  was  taken  up,  must  one 
be  ordained  to  be  a  witness  with  us  of  his  resurrection. "J  It  was  the 
evidence  to  which  he  had  himself  appealed :  "  Destroy  this  temple,  and 
in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up  again. "^  It  was  such  an  attestation  of 
divine  approtiatiou  as  was  never  conferred  before  or  since. 

III.  This  day  aflbrded  to  Christ  a  signal  triumph  over  his  enemies. 
During  his  abode  in  the  grave,  his  enemies  exulted,  the  world  rejoiced, 
his  disciples   were  rejected  and  dispersed.     Witness  the  desponding 

*  Rom.  i.  4.  t  John  viii.  28.  J  Acis  i.  21,  22.  $  John  il.  J9. 


OF  CHRIST'S  RESURRECTION.  195 

language  of  his  disciples  on  their  way  to  Emmaus  :  "  We  thought  it 
liad  been  he  that  should  have  redeemed  Israel ;  and,  besides  all  this, 
it  is  the  third  day  since  these  things  were  done."  The  hopes  of  the 
church  were  sunk,  to  the  lowest  point  of  depression :  it  seemed  as  if 
the  name  of  Jesus  and  his  cause  were  for  ever  entombed  in  his  grave. 
But  how  gloriously  was  the  scene  reversed  by  his  resurrection  !  The 
person  of  the  Saviour  was  for  ever  removed  beyond  the  reach  of  further 
assault,  and  his  cause  was  more  than  ever  triumphant :  "  And  with 
great  power  gave  the  apostles  witness  of  the  resurrection  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  :  and  great  grace  was  upon  them  all."*  Greater  miracles  were 
wrought  by  the  apostles  in  his  name  than  any  which  he  wrought 
himself.  From  thence  we  must  date  the  extensive  and  successful 
propagation  of  the  gospel.  The  Spirit  descended,  and  the  eleven 
apostles  were  sent  forth  into  all  the  world.  He  then  began  to  assume 
the  sceptre  of  universal  dominion,  to  sit  upon  the  throne  of  David,  to 
rule  and  to  establish  it  for  ever  and  ever.  "  All  power  was  given  unto 
him  in  heaven  and  in  earth." 

IV.  On  this  day  our  Lord  gained  an  everlasting  victory  over  the 
last  enemy,  and  triumphed  over  death  in  that  nature  which  had  always 
been  subject  to  its  dominion  before.  Death  had  reigned,  not  only 
from  Adam  to  Moses,  but  through  all  subsequent  generations,  subjecting 
the  whole  race,  and  trampling  them  with  indignity  in  the  dust.  Mil- 
lions and  millions  had  descended  into  his  dreary  prison,  of  which  none 
had  ever  been  able  to  break  the  bars,  and  escape  from  the  confinement. 
The  king  of  terrors  maintained  an  undisputed  dominion,  a  despotic 
sway,  over  all  the  past  generations  of  mankind.  Some  were  indulged 
with  a  larger  respite  than  others.  Some  descended  into  his  mansions 
with  more  funereal  pomp  and  pageantry  ;  but  when  arrived  there,  they 
all  met  with  the  same  reception:  the  same  darkness  enveloped  them; 
and  they  equally  said  "  to  corruption,  Thou  art  my  sister ;  to  the 
worm.  Thou  art  my  mother."  But  on  this  day  a  new  order  of  things 
commenced.  Death  for  the  first  time  encountered  an  enemy  more 
powerful  than  himself;  and  though  he  seemed  to  prevail  for  a  moment, 
he  was  for  ever  foiled  in  the  conflict.  He  received  into  his  territory, 
in  the  guise  of  a  captive.  Him  whom  he  found  a  conqueror.  [Christ] 
exhibited  the  first  specimen  of  immortal  man :  not  that  shadow  of 
immortality  consisting  in  being  remembered  and  celebrated  for  ages  by 
creatures  who  are  hastening  to  the  tomb  ;  but  an  immortality  con- 
sisting in  a  form  which  is  imperishable, — a  glorious  being,  over  Avhich 
death  hath  no  more  power,  Avhich  will  subsist  in  undecaying  youth 
and  splendour  when  the  heavens  are  no  more.  This  is  the  pattern 
and  example  to  which  the  children  of  the  resurrection  will  be  conformed. 

V.  On  this  day  we  are  called  to  rejoice  in  that  sure  and  certain 
prospect  which  the  resurrection  of  Christ  affords  to  all  true  believers, 
of  ascending  with  him  to  heaven,  and  of  there  partaking  with  him  of 
his  glory.  As  he  was  the  substituted  representative  of  true  believers, 
what  was  accomplished  in  him  at  his  resurrection  will  ere  long  be 
accomplished  in  them :  the  victory  over  death  which  he  acquired  he 

*  Acts  iv.  33. 

N3 


196  CHRIST'S  CARE  OVER 

will  impart  to  them ;  the  glory  which  he  has  received  he  will  give  to 
them ;  the  eternal  rest  into  which  he  has  entered  at  his  ascension  he 
hath  prepared  for  them  : — "  Every  man  in  his  own  order :  Christ  the 
first-fruits ;  then  they  that  are  Christ's  at  his  coming."  In  nothing 
that  our  Saviour  sufiered  or  obtained  is  he  to  be  considered  in  the  light 
of  a  private  character.  Nothing  was  suffered  on  his  own  account,  or 
effected  merely  with  a  view  to  his  own  benefit.  "  As  he  bore  our  sins 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,"  and  "  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  to 
bring  us  to  God,"  the  rewards  which  he  merited,  the  dignity  to  which 
he  was  exalted,  are  not  confined  to  his  own  person,  but  accrue  to  every 
part  of  his  mystical  body. 


XL. 

CHRIST'S  CARE  OVER  CHURCHES  AND  MINISTERS. 

Rev.  ii.  1. —  These  things  saith  he  that  holdeth  the  seven  stars  in  his 
right  hand,  who  vxdkcth  in  the  midst  of  the  seven  golden  candlesticks. 

As  Jesus  Christ  is  the  "  true  light"  of  the  world,  so  a  principal 
means  by  which  he  dispenses  his  illumination  is  by  the  appointment 
of  a  stated  ministry,  and  the  formation  of  Christian  churches.  By 
concentrating  and  uniting  their  efforts, — by  collecting  their  information, 
their  zeal,  and  piety  into  a  [[)oint,]  they  dispel  much  of  the  darkness 
of  the  present  state.  This  state  is  frequently  in  Scripture  compared 
to  night :  "  The  night  is  far  spent ;  the  day  is  at  hand."*  During  the 
prevalence  of  this  darkness,  previous  to  the  rising  of  the  "  Sun  of 
righteousness,"  he  has  placed  his  ministers  as  stars  in  the  firmament, 
and  appointed  his  churches  to  be  as  lamps  or  candlesticks. 

By  the  representation  of  the  text,  we  are  strongly  reminded  of  the 
sole  end  and  design  for  which  ministers  are  constituted  and  churches 
formed:  it  is  to  dispense  spiritual  illumination  to  a  benighted  world; 
it  is  tliat  they  may  shine  with  knowledge  and  holiness.  As  far  as 
they  answer  this  purpose  they  are  useful  and  important ;  in  proportion 
as  they  lose  sight  of  it  they  forfeit  every  just  claim  to  esteem,  and 
sink  into  insignificance  and  contempt.  It  is  their  duty  to  "hold  forth 
the  word  of  life."t  The  light  they  are  appointed  to  dispense  is  the 
pure  doctrine  of  Christ,  exhibited  by  an  open  profession,  and  sustained 
and  reconnnonded  by  the  virtues  of  a  holy  life.  AVlien  churches  depart 
from  the  essential  truths  of  Christianity,  they  become  incapable  of 
answering  the  end  of  their  institution.  They  are  no  longer  useful 
lights,  but  delusive  meteors  ;  whicli,  instead  of  guiding  souls  to  heaven, 
mislead  and  betray  them  to  destruction. 

False  teachers  are  compared  by  Jude  to  "  wandering  stars,"|  in 

*  Rom.  xiii.  12.  t  PhUip.  ii.  16.  t  Jude  13. 


CHURCHES  AND  MINISTERS.  197 

opposition  to  those  mentioned  in  the  text,  who  are  supposed  to  continue 
in  dieir  station,  and  afford  a  reguhir  and  steady  light.  In  representing 
Christ's  ministers  under  the  metaphor  of  stars,  it  is  not  improbable 
there  may  be  an  allusion  to  Daniel :  "  They  that  be  wise  shall  shine 
as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament;  and  they  that  turn  many  to 
righteousness  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever."* 

The  appellation  of  "  the  bright  and  morning  star"  is  assumed  by  our 
Saviour  himself;  and  as  ministers,  though  at  an  immeasurable  distance, 
are  yet  nearest  him  in  the  official  rank  in  the  church,  so  ouglit  they 
most  to  resemble  him  in  the  distinguishing  features  in  the  Christian 
character.  The  church  is  represented  as  having  on  her  head  "  a  crown 
of  twelve  stars,"!  which  denote  the  twelve  apostles.  John  saw  seven 
of  these  stars  and  lamps  :  which  may  either  refer  to  the  precise  num- 
ber of  the  churches  to  whom  Christ  sends  distinct  epistles  ;  or,  as 
seems  more  likely,  the  number  is  adopted  as  a  mystical  number, 
agreeable  to  the  arrangement  of  this  book,  which  consists  of  seven 
seals,  seven  trumpets,  seven  vials,  and  contains  a  distinct  [intimation] 
of  the  seven  spirits  that  are  before  the  throne.  There  is  contained  an 
allusion  to  the  golden  candlestick  in  the  temple,  which  consisted  of 
seven  branches.  "  The  eyes  of  the  Lord,  which  run  to  and  fro  through 
the  whole  earth."| 

Let  us  proceed  to  consider, — 

L  What  is  meant  by  our  Lord's  holding  the  stars,  his  ministers,  in 
his  hand. 

His  holding  the  stars  in  his  hand  implies  the  appointuig  them  to  the 
^vork  of  the  ministry.  His  qualiiying  them  for  the  successful  discharge 
of  it,  and  his  absolute  [disposal  and  direction]  of  them  and  all  their 
concerns. 

1.  It  implies  that  it  is  he  who  appoints  them  to  tlieir  office.  From 
him,  as  the  sole  Head  of  the  church,  they  derive  their  commissions. 
They  are  his  servants  and  messengers.  He  sometimes  describes 
them  by  appellations  peculiar  to  the  Jewish  church  ;  as  when  he 
tells  the  Jews,  "  Behold,  I  send  unto  you  prophets,  and  wise  men,  and 
scribes  :"^ — but  more  frequently  by  titles  peculiar  to  the  New  Testa- 
ment. "  When  he  ascended  up  on  high,  he  gave  some,  apostles ; 
some,  prophets ;  and  some,  evangelists ;  and  some,  pastors  and 
teachers. "II  Hence  St.  Paul  gives  thanks  to  Jesus  Christ,  who  had 
enabled  him,  "  for  that  he  counted  him  faithlul,  putting  him  into  the 
ministry."F 

2.  It  is  he  who  imparts  the  qualifications  which  are  necessary  for 
the  effectual  discharge  of  their  office :  "  And  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
was  exceeding  abundant  with  faith  and  love  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus."** 
All  that  love  to  souls,  and  that  regard  to  the  advancement  of  the 
Divine  honour,  which  are  so  essential  to  a  Christian  minister,  proceed 
from  him.  Ministerial  talents  are  his  gift.  The  continual  supplies 
of  grace  which  are  requisite  in  the  whole  course  of  the  Christian 
ministry  proceed  from  him :    "  The  supply  of  the  Spirit  of  Clirist 

*  Dan.  xii.  3.  t  Rev.  xii.  1.  t  Zech.  iv.  10.  §  Matt,  xxiii-  34 

II  Ephes.  iv.  8, 11.      U  1  Tim.  i.  12.  **  1  Tim.  i.  14. 


198     CHRIST'S  CARE  OVER  CHURCHES  AND  MINISTERS. 

Jesus:"*  "There  are  diversities  of  administrations,  but  the  same 
Lord."' 

3.  They  are,  with  all  their  concerns,  at  his  absolute  disposal.  He, 
by  the  secret  arrangements  of  his  providence,  appoints  "  the  bound  of  their 
habitation,"  and  allots  their  respective  fields  of  labour,  not  unfrequently 
in  a  manner  entirely  foreign  from  their  expectation ;  so  he  assigns 
them  the  measure  of  their  success,  setting  before  them  on  various 
occasions  "  an  open  door,  which  no  man  can  shut."t  (Speak  of  the 
angel  of  the  church  of  Philadelphia.) 

II.  The  import  of  his  walking  in  the  midst  of  the  golden  candlesticks. 

1.  It  imports  an  accurate  inspection  of  the  state  [of  every  church,] 
both  as  a  society  and  as  individuals,  "  I  know  thy  works,"  is  a 
declaration  with  which  he  frequently  prefaces  his  admonitory  epistles. 
Nothing  in  the  behaviour  of  Christian  churches  escapes  his  notice, 
whose  "  eyes  are  as  a  flame  of  fire."  He  remarks  the  attention,  or 
inattention,  with  which  his  messages  are  received ;  he  observes  who 
are  formal  and  lukewarm,  and  who  fervent  and  sincere  in  their  worship  ; 
who  are  diligent  in  their  attendance  on  the  means  of  grace,  and  who 
are  glad  to  avail  themselves  of  trivial  excuses  for  neglecting  them.  He 
notices  all  the  difierent  degrees  of  seriousness  which  professing 
Christians  bring  into  the  divine  service.  There  is  not  a  sigh  from  the 
contrite,  not  a  tear  of  penitential  sorrow,  or  of  tender  joy,  that  escapes 
his  notice.  "  He  looks  not  at  outward  appearances,  but  at  the  heart." 
He  perceives  the  difference  between  those  churches  which  have  left 
their  "  first  love,"  and  those  who  are  diligently  pressing  on  to  perfec- 
tion ;  between  those  that  are  indifferent  to  the  extension  of  his  kingdom, 
and  those  who  are  incessantly  labouring  and  praying  for  its  enlarge- 
ment ;  those  who  decline  to  the  paths  of  error,  and  "  hold  the  doctrine 
which  he  hates,"  and  those  who  "  hold  fast  the  form  of  sound  words." 

2.  His  walking  among  them  implies  that  his  business,  so  to  speak, 
lies  in  the  management  of  his  churches.  It  is  his  "  building,"  his 
"  husbandry."!  The  interest  of  his  church  is  peculiarly  his  interest, 
in  the  maintenance  of  which  his  presence  and  grace  are  especially 
exerted.     He  walks  among  the  churches  as  a  proprietor  in  his  field. 

He  superintends  the  affairs  of  the  world,  but  always  with  a  view  to 
the  enlargement  and  prosperity  of  his  church.  The  church  is  his 
mystical  body,  with  which  he  is  most  intimately  and  inseparably  united. 
He  rules  the  world  by  his  sceptre,  but  he  gladdens  the  churcli  by  his 
presence.  The  former  consists  only  of  his  subjects,  this  of  his  brethren 
and  sisters. 

3.  His  walking  among  them  denotes  the  complacency  he  takes  in 
them.  Something  of  complacency  seems  to  be  implied  in  this  expres- 
sion, "I  will  set  my  tabernacle  among  you:  and  my  soul  shall  not 
abhor  you.  And  I  will  walk  among  you,  and  will  be  your  God,  and 
ye  shall  be  my  people. "i^ 

(Apply  the  whole.) 

•  Philip,  i.  19.  t  Rev.  iii.  8.  t  1  Cor.  Ui.  9.  ^  Lev.  xxvi.  11, 12. 


NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN.  •  199 

XLI. 

NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN.    . 

Rev.  xxi.  22. — And  I  saw  no   temple   therein :  for  the   Lord   God 
Almighty  and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  of  it. 

This  book  contains  a  prophecy  of  the  state  of  the  church  from  tlie 
time  in  which  it  was  communicated  to  the  consummation  of  all  things. 
It  includes  the  principal  revolutions  to  which  it  was  to  be  subject,  and 
the  assaults  it  was  to  sustain,  during  a  series  of  ages,  from  the  time  of 
John  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  chapter  out  of  which  my  text  is 
taken  is,  with  great  probability,  considered  as  a  description  of  the 
heavenly  world.  In  the  chapter  preceding,  we  have  a  striking  descrip- 
tion of  the  day  of  judgment.  "And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and 
him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven  fled  away  ; 
and  there  was  found  no  place  for  them.  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small 
and  great,  stand  before  God  ;  and  the  books  were  opened  :  and  another 
book  was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life  :  and  the  dead  were  judged 
out  of  those  things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their 
works."*  After  this,  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  are  described, 
very  similar  to  the  language  of  Peter  :  "•  For  we  look  for  a  new  heaven 
and  a  nevv  earth,  in  which  dwelleth  righteousness."  The  perfection 
of  the  state  represented  here  is  such  as  can  agree  only  with  the 
heavenly  world.  "  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes ;  and  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying, 
neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain  :  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away."t  Amoug  the  other  privileges,  access  to  the  tree  of  life  is 
specified,  evidently  denoting  a  state  of  immortality.  "  Blessed  are 
they  that  do  his  commandments,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree 
of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city."J 

Considering  this  as  a  description  of  the  heavenly  state,  we  shall 
first  endeavour  to  point  out  the  meaning  and  import  of  this  declaration, 
and  next  attempt  some  practical  improvement. 

I.  Let  us  endeavour  to  point  out  the  meaning  and  import  of  this 
declaration, — "  I  saw  no  temple  therein,"  &c. 

1.  It  cannot  be  intended  to  insinuate  that  heaven  will  not  be  a  state 
of  devotion.  It  is  in  every  part  of  the  word  of  God,  and  in  this  book 
in  particular,  represented  as  a  state  of  the  highest  and  most  exalted 
devotion.^  Devotion  will  then  be  carried  to  its  highest  perfection. 
The  absence  of  the  temple  does  not  denote  the  absence  of  devotion  : 
as  it  is  the  noblest  employment  of  creatures  here,  it  is  impossible  to 
suppose  it  will  be  neglected  in  the  heavenly  world. 

2.  Nor  is  it  intended  to  intimate  that  there  will  not  be  most  glorious 
and  supernatural  manifestations  of  God  in  that   state.     Having  the 

*  Rev.  XX.  11,  12.  t  Rev.  xxi.  4. 

i  Rev.  xxii.  14.  ^  Rev.  xv.  2,  3;  xiv.  2,  3. 


200  •  .        NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN. 

glory  of  God  is  a  most  distinguishing  part  of  its  description.  The 
peculiar  presence  of  God  is  announced  as  one  of  its  peculiar  privileges.* 
"  Behold,  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  he  will  dwell  amoncr 
them."  Contrasting  the  present  with  the  future  state,  the  apostle  says, 
"  Now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face  :  then 
shall  I  see  as  I  am  seen,  and  know  as  I  am  known." 

The  import  of  this  declaration  may  probably  be  expressed  in  the 
following  particulars.  There  will  be  no  place  in  the  celestial  world 
distinguished  by  peculiar  tokens  of  the  Divine  presence  above  others. 

(1.)  A  temple  is  a  building  set  apart  exclusively  for  the  honour  of 
God,  where  he  was  accustomed  to  manifest  his  presence  in  a  visible 
symbol,  in  distinction  from  other  places.  The  ancient  temple  was 
divided  into  three  compartments.  The  court,  at  the  door  of  which 
stood  the  brazen  altar  of  burnt-offering.  To  this  the  victims  were 
brought,  and  the  Israelitish  people  had  access.  The  second  was  the 
court  of  the  priests,  at  the  farthest  end  of  which  stood,  on  one  side,  the 
golden  altar  of  incense,  and  on  the  other  the  table  of  the  shew-bread. 
This  it  was  the  prerogative  of  the  priests  only  to  enter.  It  was  styled, 
in  distinction  from  the  other,  "  the  Holy  Place."  The  third  was  the 
Sanctum  Sanctorum,  or  "  Holy  of  Holies,"  where  was  placed  the 
mercy-seat,  surrounded  on  each  side  by  the  cherubim,  whose  wings 
were  stretched  out  so  as  to  cover  it ;  and  upon  it  the  Supreme  Being 
manifested  himself  in  a  visible  glory,  like  a  king  sitting  upon  his  throne. 
Hence  he  was  invoked  by  the  saints  of  old,  as  "  he  that  sat  between 
the  cherul)im."  This,  which  was  the  inmost  recess  of  the  temple, 
was  the  chamber  of  audience,  and  the  place  of  the  oracle.  And  to  this 
the  high-priest  only  had  access,  once  a  year,  upon  the  great  day  of  the 
atonement,  which  was  the  tenth  of  the  seventh  month.  No  other  part 
of  the  Holy  Land  was  ordinarily  favoured  with  similar  manifestations. 
As  it  was  the  peculiar  distinction  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  it  conferred 
a  [specific]  sanctity  on  the  place,  whence  it  was  styled  the  Holy  City. 

In  heaven,  the  presence  of  God  will  not  be  restricted  to  a  particular 
place :  it  will  diffuse  itself  everywhere  ;  in  consequence  of  which  the 
whole  will  become  holy.  There  will  be  no  part  of  it  consecrated  as 
a  local  temple,  because  the  whole  will  be  a  temple.  As  it  is  said  of  the 
sun  that  the  city  will  have  no  need  of  it,  because  the  Lord  God  will 
enlighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  be  the  light  thereof;  so  it  will  be  with 
respect  to  a  temple.  'J'he  whole  will  be  so  illuminated  with  the  glory 
of  God,  so  adorned  with  the  most  impressive  exhibitions  of  his  august 
presence,  that  there  will  be  no  distinction  possessed  by  any  part  above 
another.  Every  region  of  it  will  be  equally  replete  with  the  glory  of 
God,  which  is  the  [thing]  chiefly  meant  by  the  latter  clause  of  the  text, — 
"  The  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  Lamb  will  be  the  temple  thereof." 
The  inhabitants  will  have  no  occasion  to  remove  from  one  place  to 
another,  or  to  approach  to  a  particular  spot,  in  order  to  [behold]  the 
glory  of  God ;  but  where  they  [are,  they]  will  be  alike  sensible  of  his 
presence,  and  equally  awed  and  transported  by  it.     None  will  have 

*  Rev.  xxi.  3. 


NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN.        .  •  201 

occasion  to  adopt  the  language  of  the  devout  Psalmist,  and  say, 
"  When  shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God  V  for  they  shall  always 
appear  before  him  alike ;  "  they  shall  continually  behold  his  face,  and 
serve  him  day  and  tiight  in  his  temple." 

In  the  passage  just  now  quoted,  we  find  mention  made  of  a  temple ; 
which  is  perlectly  consistent  with  the  declaration  of  the  text,  [in  which] 
John  declares  he  saw  none.  He  is  now  describing  heaven  itself:  in 
heaven  he  perceived  no  temple,  no  particular  place  assigned  by  way 
of  distinction  for  the  worship  of  God.  In  the  former,  he  intends  to 
represent  heaven  itself  under  the  appellation  of  a  temple. 

(2.)  A  temple  is  distinguished  by  having  certain  services  allotted  to 
it,  which  it  is  unlawful  to  perform  elsewhere.  Thus,  al'ter  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem  was  erected,  it  became  criminal  to  perform  certain  rites 
of  worship  in  any  other  place.  The  burning  of  incense  and  the  offering 
of  sacrifice  were  limited  and  restrained  to  that  spot.*  "  Take  heed 
to  thyself  that  thou  offerest  not  thy  burnt-oflerings  in  every  place  that 
thou  seest ;  but  in  the  place  which  the  Lord  shall  choose  in  one  of  thy 
tribes,  there  shalt  thou  offer  thy  burnt-oflerings,  and  there  shalt  thou 
do  all  that  I  command  thee."  "  Thou  mayst  not  eat  within  thy  gates 
the  tithe  of  thy  corn,  or  of  thy  oil,  or  of  thy  vine,  or  of  the  firstling 
of  thy  herds,  or  of  thy  flock,  nor  any  of  the  vows  which  thou  vowest, 
jior  thy  free-will  offerings,  or  heave  oflerings  of  thy  hand;  but  thou 
must  eat  them  before  the  Lord  thy  God  in  the  place  which  the  Lord 
thy  God  shall  choose." 

No  distinction  will  subsist  between  the  difl^erent  mansions  in  our 
heavenly  Father's  house.  As  all  will  be  equally  holy,  the  same  modes 
of  worship  will  pervade  the  whole  ;  and  whatever  will  be  suitable  to 
one  place  will  be  suitable  to  all.     In  this  sense,  John  saw  no  temple. 

(3.)  During  the  continuance  of  the  temple,  regular  sacred  seasons 
were  appointed  at  which  all  the  males  of  the  nation  were  commanded 
to  appear  before  God.  Three  times  a-year,  all  the  male  part  of  the 
nation  was  ordered  to  present  themselves  before  God  at  Jerusalem, 
the  place  which  he  chose  to  record  his  name.  These  periods  were, 
the  feast  of  the  passover,  the  feast  of  pentecost,  and  the  feast  of  taber- 
nacles, or  of  in-gathering  at  the  close  of  the  year.  Besides  these  solemn 
anniversaries,  there  were  certain  hours  of  prayer,  mentioned  in  the  tliird 
chapter  of  Acts,  at  which  devout  men  were  wont  to  frequent  the  temple, 
to  present  their  supplications  to  God  :  these  were  the  third,  the  sixth 
(corresponding  to  our  noon),  and  the  ninth  hour.  In  the  heavenly 
world,  no  distinction  of  sacred  times  and  seasons  \v\\\  be  known :  no 
weekly  rest,  no  annual  solemnities,  will  be  longer  recognised  ;  the 
devotion  of  hs  blessed  inhabitants  will  be  one  eternal  Sabbath.  "  There 
remaineth  a  rest"  («  keeping  of  Sabbath),  saith  St.  Paul,  "  for  the 
people  of  God."  Here  the  pious  look  forward  with  delight  to  the 
recurrence  of  the  sacred  day,  when  they  may  dismiss  all  earthly  cares, 
and  devote  themselves  more  immediately  to  the  service  of  the  Most 
High :  "  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me.  Let  us  go  up  unto  the 
house  of  the  Lord.     Our  feet  shall  stand  in  thy  courts,  0  Jerusalem  !" 

*  Deut.  xvi.  5 ;  xv.  20 ;  xii.  13. 


202  •  NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN. 

(4.)  This  declaration  is  probably  intended  to  intimate  that  devotion 
•will  no  longer  form  a  distinct  part  of  the  employment  of  the  heavenly 
world,  but  that  it  will  be  intimately  incorporated  with  all  their  actions 
and  sentiments.  In  the  present  condition  of  our  being,  so  many  wants 
arise  from  the  body,  so  many  necessities  of  a  worldly  nature  to  be 
provided  for,  that  it  is  but  a  small  part  of  their  time  that  many  can 
devote  to  the  offices  of  religion.  We  have  two  worlds  with  which  we 
are  concerned — the  world  that  now  is,  and  that  which  is  to  come  ;  and 
these  give  birth  to  two  distinct  interests — the  interests  of  the  body  and 
those  of  the  soul.  Though  the  latter  are  infinitely  the  most  important, 
the  former  cannot,  and  ought  not,  to  be  neglected :  they  demand  a 
large  portion  of  our  exertions,  and  with  too  many  absorb  the  whole  of 
their  attention  and  solicitude.  "  What  shall  we  eat,  and  what  shall  we 
drink,  and  wherewidial  shall  we  be  clothed  ?"  is  the  general  inquiry. 
Truly  holy  persons  employ  their  hands  upon  the  world,  and  set  their 
hearts  on  heaven  ;  but  even  these  find  it  difiicult,  amid  the  distractions 
and  cares  of  the  present  state,  to  keep  their  aftections  set  upon  the 
things  that  are  above.  Their  souls  too  often  cleave  unto  the  dust,  and 
their  hearts  are  sometimes  overcharged.  Nothing  of  that  nature  will 
be  experienced  there  :  "  God  will  be  all  in  all."  No  wants  will  there 
remain  to  be  supplied,  no  dangers  to  be  averted,  no  provision  to  be 
made  for  futurity.  The  contemplation  and  enjoyment  of  the  Great 
Eternal  will  present  an  ample  occupation  of  the  mind  for  ever  and 
ever. 

It  may  seem,  in  our  present  dark  and  imperfect  state,  difficult  to 
conceive  how  the  exercises  of  the  mind  and  heart  on  the  blessed  God 
can  employ  an  eternity.  But  we  must  remember  that  the  object  is 
infinite  ;  that  the  creation  is  but  an  atom,  or  a  point,  compared  to  the 
immensity  of  his  being  and  perfections  ;  and  if,  in  the  survey  and  ex- 
amination of  the  creation,  the  mind  feels  such  ample  scope,  we  need 
not  wonder  if  its  great  Author  supply  an  infinitely  wider  range  of 
operation,  when  he  lays  himself  open  to  the  view  of  his  creatures,  and 
permits  them  to  "  see  him  as  he  is."  When  we  possess  an  immediate 
and  intuitive  view  of  his  nature  and  excellences,  and  no  longer  see 
him  "through  a  glass  darkly,  but  face  to  face,"  no  doubt  the  powers 
of  the  soul  will  find  full  employment,  without  danger  of  feeling  itself 
straitened  in  him,  "  who  is  all  in  all."  There  are  probably  faculties 
in  the  soul  which  are  here  either  not  apparent  at  all,  or  are  very 
imperfectly  developed.  Among  these,  the  powers  of  action  and  con- 
templation will  be  perfectly  combined :  the  exercise  of  the  reason  will 
not  interfere  with  that  of  the  heart ;  but  we  shall  be  capable  of  feeling 
all  the  ecstasies  of  devotion,  in  conjunction  with  mental  operations, 
with  which  it  is  at  present  scarcely  compatible.  We  shall  not  worsliip 
at  one  time,  and  at  another  be  engaged  in  active  pursuits  and  employ- 
ments ;  but,  while  we  burn  with  the  highest  ardours  of  devotion,  we 
shall  be  capable  of  doing  the  will  of  God,  of  executing  those  mysterious 
purposes  which  it  is  his  wish  we  should  accomplish. 

The  pursuit  of  truth,  the  enjoyment  of  good,  and  the  actual  business 
of  life  require  distinct  portioiis  of  time.     Wliile  the  soul  is  intensely 


NO  TEMPLE  IN  HEAVEN.  '  203 

employed  in  comparing  its  ideas,  ilie  movements  of  the  heart  languish, 
or  are  suspended.  It  is  very  difficuh,  in  the  present  state,  to  be  ardent 
and  speculative, — for  the  understanding  and  the  heart  to  be  both  intensely 
engaged  ;  but  this  is  owing  to  the  limitation  of  our  capacity.  It  is 
incident  to  a  state  of  imperfection,  which  we  may  easily  suppose  will 
be  done  away. 

For  a  similar  reason,  the  active  pursuits  of  life  are  scarcely  com- 
patible with  the  attainment  of  knowledge.  In  our  present  gross, 
corporeal  state,  the  effort  necessary  lo  keep  up  the  animal  machine  in 
a  state  of  intense  exertion  exhausts  the  vigour  of  the  mind,  and  leaves 
little  room  for  the  powerful  exercise  of  the  reason.  In  eternity,  we 
may  readily  conceive  it  will  be  otherwise  :  this  inert  and  sluggish  body 
will  be  replaced  by  a  spiritual  body  ;  motion  will  be  performed  without 
fatigue ;  the  body  will  be  a  fit  instrument  for  executing  the  purposes 
of  the  soul. 

At  present,  the  occupations  in  which  we  are  engaged  have  no  imme- 
diate relation  to  the  Deity ;  tliey  are  capable  of  being  sanctified  only 
by  a  general  intention  of  pleasing  God,  while  it  is  impossible  to  advert 
incessantly  to  his  presence,  or  to  make  him  the  immediate  object  of 
our  thought.  In  eternity,  the  capacity  wdl  be  so  enlarged  and 
extended  that  the  idea  of  God  will  be  incessantly  impressed,  the 
beams  of  his  glory  will  perpetually  penetrate  the  heart,  and  the  fire 
,of  love  will  never  cease  to  burn  upon  the  altar. 

Improvement. 

I.  How  impossible  for  undevout  persons  to  be  fitted  for  heaven ; 
how  impossible  for  them  to  relish  its  employments  or  enjoyments. 

II.  How  anxious  should  we  be  to  improve  the  seasons  of  devotion 
and  the  means  of  grace  as  a  preparation  for  heaven. 

III.  What  a  well-founded  hope  of  heaven  may  they  indulge  who 
feel  a  supreme  delight  in  the  exercises  of  religion.  Such  are  evidently 
ripening  for  an  invisible  and  eternal  state. 

IV.  Hence  we  perceive  the  exact  correspondence  of  the  employment 
of  the  heavenly  world  to  the  taste  and  disposition  of  real  Christians.* 

*  Preached  at  Leicester,  Sunday  morning,  August  13,  1815. 


LETTERS. 


LETTERS. 


I. 

TO  THE  BAPTIST  CHURCH,  BROADMEAD,  BRISTOL. 

Old  Aberdeen,  King's  College,  Dec.  4,  1783,* 

Dear  and  honoured  Brethren, 

I  DULY  received  your  affectionate  letter,  in  which  you  expressed 
your  desire  of  engaging  my  labours  as  an  assistant  minister.  Your 
request  does  me  honour,  and  confers  upon  me  an  obligation  which  no 
efforts  of  mine  can  fully  discharge.  Yet,  young  and  inexperienced  as 
I  am,  I  tremble  to  think  of  engaging  in  so  arduous  a  work,  especially 
in  a  situation  where  all  my  incapacity  will  be  doubly  felt.  I  cannot 
but  think  a  few  years  would  be  necessary  to  enable  me  to  gratify  the 
lowest  expectations.  To  plunge  into  the  midst  of  life  at  so  tender  an 
age,  with  so  little  experience  and  so  small  a  stock  of  knowledge,  almost 
terrifies  me.  Your  candid  judgment  of  my  past  services  I  acknowledge 
with  a  mixture  of  pleasure  and  surprise, — pleased  to  attain  the  appro- 
bation of  the  wise  and  good,  and  surprised  I  in  any  measure  have 
attained  it,  which  I  can  attribute  to  nothing  but  the  tenderness  and 
forbearance  which  have  ever  strongly  marked  your  conduct. 

A  retired  and  private  sphere  would  indeed  be  more  upon  a  level 
with  my  abilities,  and  congenial  to  my  temper ;  yet  I  would  willingly 
sacrifice  my  private  inclinations  to  more  important  views,  and  lose 
sight  of  myself  if  1  could  benefit  others.  My  reluctance,  therefore,  to 
obey  your  call  arises  merely  from  a  feeling  of  my  weakness,  and  my 
secret  fear  lest  you  should  hereafter  have  occasion  to  repent  it.  If 
you  could  have  dispensed  with  my  labours  till  the  final  close  of  my 
studies,  I  might  then  have  hoped  to  have  been  more  able  to  serve  you  ; 
but  if  not,  I  submit.  Let  me  but  crave  your  prayers,  that  as  my  day 
so  my  strength  may  be.  Your  welAire,  honoured  brethren,  will  ever 
lie  near  my  heart;  numberless  reflections  concur  with  a  thousand 
tender  recollections  of  past  kindness  to  keep  it  there.  But  these  are 
not  my  only  inducements  to  embrace  your  proposals.  It  is  an  addi- 
tional pleasure  to  me  when  I  reflect  with  whom  I  have  the  honour  to 
be  connected, — with  one  whom  I  most  sincerely  reverence,  and  to 
whom  I  am  bound  by  every  tie  of  affection  and  gratitude.f     I  hope  I 

*  Mr.  Hall  was  at  this  time  in  his  twentieth  year.  t  Dr.  Caleb  Evans, 


208  LETTERS. 

undertake  this  work  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  look  forward  to  that  awful 
day  when  all  these  solemn  transactions  shall  be  reviewed,  and  every 
secret  motive  that  entered  into  them  will  be  brought  to  light.  Wish- 
ing you,  dear  brethren,  all  prosperity,  and  that  you  may  be  "  steadfast 
ia  that  day," 

I  subscribe  myself  yours,  &c. 

Robert  Hall,  Jun. 


II. 

TO  THE  REV.  ISAIAH  BIRT,  PLYMOUTH. 

Dear  Sir,  Cambridge,  Feb.  5,  179L 

I  have  frequently  thought  it  something  remarkable,  that  you  and  I 
have  had  an  intimate  acquaintance  for  many  years,  and  yet  that  we 
have  scarcely  exchanged  a  letter.  Our  frequent  occasional  interviews 
have  formerly  rendered  this  less  necessary;  but  now  that  I  shall  prob- 
ably be  settled  in  a  distant  situation,  and  an  opportunity  of  seeing  each 
other  may  seldom  occur,  I  cannot  satisfy  myself  without  requesting  a 
stated  correspondence.  You  will  excuse  my  earnestness  to  solicit 
this,  when  you  recollect  that  it  is  the  effect  of  that  fixed  and  well- 
founded  esteem  I  always  did  and  always  shall  bear  you.  I  will 
communicate  to  you,  not  the  incidents  of  the  day  or  of  the  week, 
for  my  time  at  present  slides  away  without  incident,  but  the  inward 
sentiments  of  my  heart,  and  the  trifles,  serious  or  gay,  that  spring  up 
there  ;  happy  if  I  can  imagine  for  a  moment  I  am  conversing  with  you 
as  we  did  in  the  days  of  yore,  when,  without  care  or  sorrow,  we  saun- 
tered in  the  fields  near  Bristol.  Ah,  happy  days,  never  to  return  again  ! 
I  am  at  present  at  Cambridge,  in  the  element  of  peace  at  least,  if  not 
of  happiness  ;  and  indeed,  after  the  tumults  of  strife  and  din  of  parties, 

quiet  itself  seems  happiness. 

*  *#■*##«# 

Perhaps  you  may  wish  to  be  informed  of  some  particulars  relating 
to  my  present  situation.  It  is,  on  the  whole,  happy.  The  people 
seem  very  harmonious,  and  much  united  to  me.  I  could  wish  their 
sentiments  were  more  orthodox,  though  the  far  greater  part  of  them 
are  sufficiently  so.  They  wlio  are  not  seem  very  ready  to  hear  cool, 
dispassionate  reasoning  on  the  other  side  of  the  question.  I  liave  tried 
their  pulse  several  times  since  I  have  been  here.  On  the  first  Sabbath 
of  my  arrival,  I  preached  in  the  morning  on  Heb.  ix.  13 — "  How  much 
more  sball  the  blood  of  Christ,  Avho,  through  the  eternal  Spirit,  oflered 
himself  without  spot  to  God,"  &c. — an  entirely  controversial  sermon 
in  defence  of  the  atonement.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  few, 
very  few,  who  did  not  acknowledge  the  justice  of  my  reflections,  and 
that  they  who  were  not  convinced  were  not  displeased.  I  should  be 
happy  if  Provideiice  should  make  nie  an  humble  instrument  of  with- 


LETTERS.  209 

Standing  the  dangerous  errors  that  are  in  vogue,  and  of  preventing  or 
lessening  their  growth  at  least,  in  the  place  where  Providence  may 
appoint  my  lot.  I  intend  very  soon  to  preach  a  sermon  professedly  on 
the  divinity  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  and  the  atonement  I  am  more  and 
more  convinced  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the  true  system  of  vital  religion  ; 
nor  will  sinners  ever  be  converted  to  God  by  a  ministry  that  excludes 
them.  I  hope  I  am  not  censorious ;  but  I  am  persuaded  that  much 
of  the  liberality  so  much  talked  of  is  rather  a  fashionable  cant  than 
any  genuine  candour  of  heart.  At  present  I  am  a  boarder,  and  shall 
continue  so,  in  case  I  should  stay  here,  for  some  time.  I  have  free 
access  to  all  the  libraries  gratis,  by  means  of  acquaintance  in  the 
university. 


Pray  write  soon,  very  soon. 


I  am  yours  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


III. 

ACCEPTING  THE  PASTORAL  CHARGE  OF  THE  BAPTIST 
CHURCH  AT  CAMBRIDGE. 

To  the  Church  lately  under  the  pastoral  care  of  Mr,  Robinson  : 

Dear  Brethren, 
I  am  truly  sensible  of  the  honour  you  have  done  me  in  inviting  me 
to  the  pastoral  office  among  you.  I  am  convinced  of  my  inability 
adequately  to  discharge  its  arduous  duties ;  but  relying  on  your  can- 
dour and  the  hopes  of  superior  assistance,  I  will  attempt  it  to  the  best 
of  my  power,  and  beg  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  that  my  endeavours 
for  your  spiritual  improvement  may  be  succeeded,  and  that  I  may  be 
able  to  commend  myself  to  every  man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God- 
I  remain  your  affectionate  friend  and  brother, 

Robert  Hall. 
Cambridge,  July  23,  1791. 


IV. 

TO  MISS  WILKINS, 

AFTERWARD    MRS.    FYSH,    OF   CAMBERWELL. 

Dear  Madam, 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  that  friendship  dictates,  of  sending 
you  these  lines.  The  interest  you  possess  in  the  affections  of  your 
friends,  and  their  solicitude  for  vour  happiness,  render  it  impossible 

Vol.  HL— O 


210  LETTERS. 

they  should  hear  of  your  affliction  without  deeply  sympathizing  with  you. 
Among  these  I  beg  leave  to  have  the  honour  of  classing  myself;  and 

though  least,  not  last.     I  was  the  other  day  at  Mr.  W 's,  and  was 

informed  you  still  continued  extremely  indisposed.  I  immediately  deter- 
mined to  take  the  liberty  of  writing,  to  express  my  esteem  and  sympathy. 
I  upbraid  myself  heavily  for  not  having  snatched  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
you  before  I  left  Bristol ;  and  had  I  foreseen  the  prolongation  of  your 
illness,  I  certainly  would  not  have  omitted  it.  From  me,  who  have 
suffered  so  much,  it  would  be  unpardonable  if  distress  of  every  kind 
did  not  extort  a  tear, — much  more  when  the  sufferer  is  a  friend  whose 
virtues  and  talents  I  respect  and  admire.  This  world  is  indeed  a 
scene  of  suffering  ;  and  it  ought,  in  some  measure,  to  reconcile  us  to 
our  lot,  that  in  feeling  distress  we  strike  chords  in  unison  with  the 
whole  universe.  Adversity  is  capricious  in  its  times  and  seasons  ;  but 
its  visitations,  sooner  or  later,  never  fail.  In  some,  it  overwhelms  the 
first  hopes  of  life,  so  that  they  no  sooner  begin  to  taste  felicity  in 
prospect,  than  they  are  crossed  with  hopeless  disappointment :  others 
it  permits  to  advance  further,  waits  till  they  spread  the  foundations  of 
happiness  deep  and  wide,  that,  just  when  they  have  nearly  finished 
the  superstructure,  it  may  overwhelm  them  with  a  more  extensive 
desolation.  Some  are  racked  with  pains  and  agonies  of  body ;  and 
others  are  preys  to  disappointed  passions  and  blasted  hopes,  wasted 
with  devouring  regrets,  and  sick  at  heart  with  melancholy  retrospects  ; 
wishing  in  vain  they  could  arrest  the  wings  of  time,  and  put  the  current 
of  life  back.  Of  all  these  classes,  every  individual  thinks  his  misfor- 
tunes the  greatest.  For  the  same  reason  we  are  never  at  a  loss  to 
hear  our  own  voice,  be  it  ever  so  slender :  the  cry  of  a  pierced  heart 
sounds  shrill  in  the  solitary  ear  of  the  sufferer.  Since  we  cannot 
essentially  meliorate,  let  us  endeavour  to  allay,  our  anguish  by  mod- 
erating our  expectations.  I  am  persuaded  all  we  can  reasonably  hope 
for  on  this  side  the  grave  is  tranquillity, — not  the  insensibility  of  a 
statue,  but  the  placidity  of  a  well-informed  mind,  relying  on  the 
promises  and  cheering  prospects  of  immortality.  But  why  do  I  thus 
address  one  who  is  as  well  acquainted  with  every  subject  of  Christian 
consolation  as  I  can  pretend  to  [be  ?]  I  am  persuaded  you  will  edify 
your  friends  as  much  by  your  patience  in  affliction  as  you  have 
enlivened  tliem  in  better  days  by  the  exercise  of  your  sprightlier 
powers.  Virtue  is  always  consistent,  and  guided  by  its  dictates  you 
will  never  fail  to  be  an  example.  This  scene  of  sufl'ering  will  not 
always  last,  nor  do  we  suffer  "  as  those  without  hope."  It  is,  indeed, 
the  night  of  nature,  a  short  night,  and  not  utterly  dark :  it  will  soon 
pass  away,  and  be  suc(;eeded  by  a  bright  and  endless  day.  ^neas 
comforts  his  companions  in  the  midst  of  distress,  by  telling  them  that 
the  retrospect  of  their  sufferings  will  hereafter  be  delightful  to  them. 
Whether  we  shall  in  this  world  be  indulged  with  such  a  satisfaction  I 
know  not ;  but  surely  it  will  be  a  source  of  the  most  pleasing  reflection 
in  a  happier  world. 

Of  Bishop  Leighton,  whose  sermons  I  wish  you  to  read.  Bishop 
Burnet  declares,  that  during  a  strict  intimacy  of  many  years,  he  never 


LETTERS.  211 

saw  him  for  one  moment  in  any  other  temper  than  that  in  which  he 
should  wish  to  live  and  die  :  and  if  any  human  composition  could  form 
such  a  character,  it  must  be  his  own.  Full  of  the  richest  imagery, 
and  breathing  a  spirit  of  the  most  sublime  and  unaffected  devotion,  the 
reading  him  is  a  truce  to  all  human  cares  and  human  passions  i  and  I 
can  compare  it  to  nothing  but  the  beautiful  representation  in  the  twenty- 
third  Psalm — it  is  like  "  lying  down  in  green  pastures,  and  by  the  side 
of  still  waters." 


Cambridge,  1791. 


V. 

TO  MRS.  FYSH,  OF  CAMBERWELL, 

ON    THE    DEATH    OF    HER    SISTER,  SIRS.    PARSONS* 

My  dear  Friend,  Cambridge,  August  14,  1796. 

Permit  me  to  express  the  deep  interest  I  take  in  your  distress,  from 
the  loss  of  the  best  of  friends  and  the  best  of  sisters,  in  the  loss  of 
dear  Mrs.  Parsons.  How  many  losses  are  united!  She- has  left  a 
husband  to  lament  the  most  lovely  of  wives,  you  the  most  endeared  of 
sisters,  the  church  of  Christ  one  of  its  brightest  ornaments,  and  the 
world  one  of  its  fairest  examples  :  all,  all  have  fallen  a  victim  in  this 
most  excellent  woman.  I  have  not  met  with  any  event  for  many  years 
that  has  affected  me  at  all  equally.  Had  I  been  permitted  to  draw 
aside  the  mysterious   veil  that  hides  futurity ;  could  I  have  had  any 

presentiments  I  saw  her  at for  the  last  time,  how  solemn  would 

have  been  the  moments,  how  awfully  interesting  my  emotions  !  I  pity 
her  husband — I  pity  her  sisters  :  this  is  a  stroke  which  must  be  severely 
felt  in  the  tenderest  manner.  I  know  the  heart  when  recently  wounded 
must  be  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  grief;  and  if  there  ever  was  an 
occasion  which  could  justify  the  most  poignant  regret,  it  is  the  present, 
in  which  we  lament  the  loss  of  so  much  excellence.  But  I  hope  you 
will  by  degrees  inure  your  imagination  to  dwell  less  on  your  loss,  and 
more  on  her  happiness.  What  a  glorious  display  of  the  power  of 
Christianity!  what  a  triumphant  departure!  O,  that  I  may  die  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Parsons,  and  that  my  last  end  may  be  like  hers  !  Her 
life  was  an  ornament  to  Christianity — a  pattern  to  her  sex.  Immor- 
tality dawned  on  her  enraptured  mind,  even  before  it  quitted  its  earthly 
abode ;  and  her  pure  and  elevated  soul  made  an  easy  transit  to  the 
society  of  the  blessed.  Her  career  was  short,  but  illustrious  ;  and  she 
crowded  into  her  little  sphere  the  virtues  of  a  long  life.  Short  as  her 
continuance  was  upon  earth,  she  was  permitted  to  exemplify  the  duties 
of  every  character,   and  to  imprint,   in  indelible   characters,  on  the 

02 


212  LETTERS. 

memories  of  all  who  were  honoured  with  her  acquaintance,  the  perfec- 
tions of  a  friend,  a  sister,  a  mother,  and  a  wife.  It  is  true,  she  has 
slept  the  sleep  of  death  ;  but  she  sleeps  in  Jesus :  she  has  gone 
before  you  into  the  holy  of  holies :  she  will  meet  you  at  the  great 
rendezvous  of  being,  the  assembly  of  the  just ;  and,  in  the  mean  time, 
instead  of  being  an  object  oi  your  pity,  probably  looks  down  upon  you 
with  ineflable  tenderness  and  compassion.  I  have  seen,  besides  your 
letter,  one  from  Mrs.  Gutteridge  ;  and  I  must  say,  I  never  heard,  on  the 
whole,  of  so  calm,  so  triumphant  a  death  :  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  been 
permitted  to  step  into  heaven  before  her  final  departure,  that  she  might 
thenceaddressherself  to  her  friends  with  more  serenity,  dignity,  and  effect. 

What,  my  dear  friend,  besides  Christianity,  can  thus  scatter  the 
horrors  of  the  soul  I  What  else  could  enable  a  young  lady,  in  the 
bloom  of  life,  with  a  prosperous  fortune,  beloved  by  a  husband, 
endeared  to  her  friends,  and  esteemed  by  the  whole  world,  to  triumph 
in  the  thoughts  of  dissolution  1  Divine  Christianity !  it  is  thine  only 
to  comfort  and  support  the  languishing  and  dying. 

I  hope  all  Mrs.  Parsons'  numerous  acquaintance  will  be  properly 
impressed  with  this  singular  dispensation  of  Providence.  Let  them 
ask  themselves  whether  the  loose  skeptical  principles  of  the  age  are  at 
all  adapted  to  such  a  scene ;  whether  they  have  any  thing  in  them  that 
will  enable  them  to  exert  th^;  calm  heroism  displayed  in  the  most  trying 
moment  by  this  departed  excellence.  Let  me  hope  some  one,  at  least 
will  be  impressed  by  this  wonderful  example  of  the  power  of  religion. 

Death  has  made  frequent  visits  to  your  family ;  the  youngest  is  now 
snatched  away.  Mr.  Beddome,  poor  Richard  Beddome,  and  now  Mrs. 
Parsons  ;  in  how  short  a  time  they  have  followed  each  other ! 

I  find  your  dear  deceased  sister  expressed  her  anxiety  at  the  progress 
of  Deism  with  her  last  breath.  To  a  serious  mind  it  affords  a  most 
melancholy  prospect :  but  you  must  observe  it  does  not  seize  the  mind 
at  once ;  it  advances  by  the  progressive  stages  of  Socinianism  and 
dissipation.  Men  first  lose  their  relish  for  what  is  vital  and  distinguish- 
ing in  Christianity,  before  they  dispute  its  evidences,  or  renounce  its 
authority.  Lax  notions  of  the  person  of  Christ,  a  forgetfulness  of  his 
mediation,  place  the  mind  in  a  deistical  state,  and  prepare  it  for  the 
most  licentious  opinions. 

The  consolations  of  your  dear  deceased  sister  did  not  result  from  a 
general  belief  of  the  doctrine  of  immortality,  in  which  the  Socinians 
place  the  whole  of  revelation ;  but  in  specific  views  of  Christ  as  a 
Saviour,  and  the  prospect  of  being  for  ever  with  him.  My  dear  friend, 
let  us  hold  fast  this  kind  of  Christianity,  without  wavering,  as  the  antidote 
of  death. 

Excuse  this  freedom,  which  results  not  from  any  suspicion  of  your 
own  defection,  but  from  a  friendly  concern  for  some  for  whom  we  both 
retain  the  sincerest  regards.     IMy  paper  forbids  me  to  add  more. 

Present  my  most  affectionate  respects  to  Mr.  Fysh,  and  accept  the 
same  yourself,  from 

Your  affectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend, 

RoBERt  Hall. 


LETTERS.  213 

VI. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS,  HAVERFORDWEST. 

My  dear  Friend.  Cambridge,  June  7,  1799. 

How  could  you  suspect  for  a  moment  that  1  wished  to  dissolve  my 
friendship  with  you,  a  friendship  which  I  have  always  esteemed  a  dis- 
tinguished honour  and  happiness?  No,  my  dear  friend.  My  long 
silence  is  indeed  inexcusable ;  but  impute  it  to  any  cause,  and  you 
will  do  me  more  justice  than  by  suspecting  my  diminution  of  regard. 
My  aversion  to  letter-writing  you  are  well  acquainted  with.  I  formed 
many  resolutions  to  surmount  it :  but,  in  the  moment  of  trial,  am 
baffled.  I  sincerely  sympathize  with  you  in  the  loss  of  your  child ; 
but,  my  dear  friend,  do  not  suffer  your  spirits  to  sink.  Remember  the 
tenure  on  which  all  human  enjoyments  are  held,  the  wisdom  and 
sovereignty  of  their  great  Author,  and  the  gracious  promise  afforded  to 
true  Christians,  that  "  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good  to  them 
that  love  him."  Remember  the  many  blessings  with  which  a  kind 
Providence  still  indulges  you.  Ought  you  not  to  rejoice  that  your 
affectionate  companion  in  life  is  spared  ;  and  that,  though  your  child  is 
snatched  from  your  embraces,  he  has  escaped  from  a  world  of  sin  and 
sorrow  ?  The  stamp  of  immortality  is  placed  on  his  happiness,  and 
he  is  encircled  by  the  arms  of  a  compassionate  Redeemer.  Had  he 
been  permitted  to  live,  and  you  had  witnessed  the  loss  of  his  virtue, 
you  might  have  been  [reserved]  to  suffer  still  severer  pangs.  A  most 
excellent  couple  in  our  congregation  are  now  melancholy  spectators 
of  a  son  dying,  at  nineteen  years  of  age,  by  inches,  a  victim  to  his 
vices.  They  have  frequently  regretted  he  did  not  die  several  years 
since,  when  his  life  was  nearly  despaired  of,  in  a  severe  fever.  "  Who 
knoweth  what  is  good  for  a  man  all  the  days  of  this  his  vain  life, 
Avhich  he  spends  as  a  shadow  ?" 

Many  interesting  scenes  have  occurred  since  our  interview.  About 
six  months  ago,  I  was  attacked  by  a  violent  fever ;  and  in  my  own 
apprehensions,  for  about  two  days  was  on  the  borders  of  eternity.  I 
never  before  felt  my  mind  so  calm  and  happy.  Filled  with  the  most 
overwhelming  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness,  my  mind  was  supported 
merely  by  a  faith  in  Christ  crucified.  I  would  not  for  the  world  have 
parted  with  that  text,  "  The  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin." 
I  never  before  saw  such  a  beauty  and  grandeur  in  the  way  of  salvfition 
by  the  death  of  Christ,  as  on  that  occasion.  I  am  fully  persuaded  the 
evangelical  doctrines  alone  are  able  to  support  the  mind  in  the  near 
views  of  death  and  judgment.  May  you  and  I  be  more  and  more 
grounded  in  a  conviction  of  their  truth,  and  acquainted  with  their  power  ! 
It  is  to  these  doctrines  the  revelation  of  Christ  is  chiefly  indebted  for 
its  efficacy  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  men. 


214  LETTERS. 


VII. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  Friend,  Cambridge,  Feb.  14,  1801. 

I  have  long  purposed  to  write  to  you,  and  should  have  done  so,  but 
from  that  unhappy  reluctance  to  writing  which  is  almost  a  part  of  my 
nature.  I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  it  did  not  arise 
from  any  abatement  of  love  and  esteem.     But  a  truce  to  apologies. 

I  am  heartily  glad  to  find  you  have  preached  at  Claphara,  where  I 
hope  you  will  find  much  to  comfort  you  in  the  opportunity  of  doing 
good  ;  for  we  can  be  truly  happy  but  in  proportion  as  we  are  the  in- 
struments of  promoting  the  happiness  of  others.  From  what  little  I 
have  heard  of  the  people,  you  will  meet  kind  and  respectful  treatment ; 
but  there  will  be  much  to  damp  your  zeal,  against  which,  I  doubt  not, 
you  will  be  upon  your  guard.  You  will  have  pleasing  society  ;  and 
the  vicinity  to  London  has  many  advantages.  May  we,  my  dear  friend, 
"  work  while  it  is  to-day,  for  the  hour  is  shortly  coming  when  we  can 

work  no  longer." 

******** 

Mr,  Hill,  by  whom  you  sent  your  letter,  just  called  in  the  morning, 
but  could  not  make  any  stay.  He  seemed  an  agreeable,  sensible  man. 
If  you  should  see  Mr.  Rowland  Hill,  present  my  Christian  respects  to 
him,  though  unknown,  and  assure  him  it  would  give  me  uncommon 
pleasure  to  see  and  hear  him  at  Cambridge,  and  that  I  shall  think 
myself  much  honoured  by  hearing  him  preach  in  my  pulpit.  I  went 
into  the  vestry  and  spoke  to  him  about  two  years  ago,  in  Surrey  Chapel; 
but  he  did  not  recollect  me,  and  I  felt  a  reluctance  to  make  so  free  as 
to  mention  my  name,  and  therefore  only  mentioned  you  as  a  common 
friend  and  retired.  He  is  a  man  for  whom  I  ever  entertained  a  very 
high  esteem.  Whatever  a  misjudging  world  may  say,  such  men  as 
these  will  •'  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  as  the  stars 
for  ever."  May  my  soul,  though  at  an  humble  distance,  be  admitted 
among  them  !  1  have  just  been  reading,  with  very  great  pleasure,  and, 
I  hope,  some  profit,  Orton  and  Stonehouse's  Letters  to  Stedman. 
They  contain  most  excellent  prudential,  moral,  and  religious  instruc- 
tion ;  devout,  liberal,  rational,  yet  fervent  piety  of  the  stamp  of  Dodd- 
ridge, who  is  now  my  prime  favourite  among  divines.  If  you  have 
not  seen  tliem,  they  will  richly  repay  your  perusal.  Dr.  Stonehouse 
and  Miss  More  both  lived  at  Bristol  at  the  time  I  resided  there ;  and 
yet,  such  was  my  extreme  folly,  I  never  took  any  means  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  cither  of  them,  which  might  very  easily  have  been 
done.  "  Surely  I  have  been  more  brutish  than  any  man."  What  op- 
portunities of  knowledge  and  improvement  have  I  lost,  and  have  now 
reached  the  meridian  of  life,  and  am  but  a  child  !  I  may  adopt,  with 
more  propriety  than  any  man  that  ever  lived,  the  prayer, — "  Remember 
not  the  sins  of  mv  vouth." 


LETTERS,  215 

What  strange  news  is  this  of  Mr.  Pitt's  leaving  the  ministry?  I 
am  glad  of  it,  though  I  suppose  the  men  that  succeed  will  persist  in 
the  same  measures.  But  a  schism  in  the  cabinet  bodes  ill  for  the  per- 
manence of  the  party ;  so  that  I  hope  the  present  change  is  only  a 
prelude  to  one  more  important.  The  present  ministry  can  surely 
never  be  permanent.  We  must  have  peace,  or  we  are  inevitably  and 
speedily  ruined.  But  I  hate  politics,  and  have  not  read  a  paper  above 
twice  tliese  nine  months  ;  so  that  you  must  not  suppose  I  am  very  pro- 
found on  these  subjects. 

You  have  heard,  no  doubt,  of  the  death  of  poor  Mr. ,  of , 

He  departed  this  life,  Monday  se'nnight,  at .     He  was  at  dinner 

at  Mr. 's,  and  was  taken  with  a  second  apoplectic  fit  between 

the  two  courses,  and  expired  in  about  two  hours.  He  never  spake, 
except  the  moment  after  he  was  seized  ;  when,  in  answer  to  Mrs. 

's  inquiry,  he  said  he  was  poorly.     Poor  man!  he  had  very 

little  happiness  in  life,  and  his  last  years  were  very  wwhappy.  No 
spirits,  no  exertion,  no  usefulness !  I  sometimes  think  it  is  a  mercy  I 
was  not  a  "  gentleman  parson ;"  for  with  my  natural  indolence,  the 
temptations  of  that  character  would  have  completed  my  ruin.  "  Let  us 
work,  my  dear  friend,  while  it  is  called  to-day." 

Pray,  have  you  heard  any  more  about  the  design  of  the  government 
to  suppress  village  preaching  and  Sunday-schools  ?  Our  friends  at 
Clapham  were  very  apprehensive  of  it  some  time  since,  but  we  hear 
little  of  it  in  the  country.  Mr.  Simeon  informed  me  lately  he  had 
litde  doubt  something  of  the  sort  would  be  attempted.  He  gave  some 
intimation  of  the  same  kind  in  a  sermon  he  preached  to  his  own  peo- 
ple. Pray  inform  me  of  all  you  have  heard  about  it,  for  it  is  an  affair 
which  lies  with  considerable  weight  on  my  mind.  If  there  should  be 
any  thing  done,  we  shall  see  dismal  times.  Do  you  know  whether 
any  thing  has  been  written  on  the  subject  1  Mr.  Simeon  and  I  are 
upon  very  friendly  terms.  I  lately  dined  with  him  at  his  own  rooms, 
and  have  repeatedly  met  him  in  company,  in  which  the  conversation 
has  been  very  agreeable.  The  reconciliation  was  effected  principally 
by  the  intervention  of  Mr.  Owen,  of  Fulham,  and  of  Alderman  Ind.  A 
paper  was  drawn  up,  and  signed  by  each  party.  We  are  upon  very 
comfortable  terms  with  the  church  people  at  present ;  never  was  less 
party  spirit  at  Cambridge.  I  wish  I  could  see  more  good  done,  but 
yet  I  must  not  complain.  Our  congregation  is  very  flourishing,  and 
things  wear  an  agreeable  aspect.  But  my  paper  admonishes  me  to 
close.  Pray  write  to  me  very  soon,  if  not  immediately,  and  let  us  see 
you  at  Cambridge  as  early  as  possible.  Remember  me  respectfully 
to  Mr.  Thompson,  Miss  Wilkinson,  Mr.  Beddome,  &c. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Yours  constantly, 

Robert  Hall. 


81  e  LETTERS. 


VIII. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  Friend,  Cambridge,  May  26,  1801. 

I  thank  you  for  your  very  kind  letter,  and  for  your  invitation  to  pay 
you  an  early  visit  at  Clapham.  You  know,  and  every  one  who  knows 
me  knows,  there  is  no  friend  living  whom  I  should  be  so  glad  to  see 
as  yourself,  but  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  gratify  this 
inclination  at  present.  I  am  just  going  to  see  my  old  friend  Kinghorn 
at  Norwich,  where  I  shall  be  absent  one,  possibly  two,  Sabbaths,  In 
the  fall  of  the  year  I  am  engaged  to  visit  Bristol,  and  to  go  as  far  as 
Plymouth;  so  that  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  pay  my 
London  and  Clapham  friends  a  visit  this  summer.  I  shall  fully  expect, 
however,  to  see  you  at  Cambridge  some  time  in  the  summer.  It  is 
long  since  you  were  here  ;  and  we  are  anxiously  desirous  of  seeing 
you,  with  Mrs.  Phillips,  to  whom  I  beg  to  be  affectionately  remembered. 
It  gives  me  extreme  pleasure  to  hear  of  your  great  acceptance  at 
Clapham.  Miss  Wilkinson  spoke  in  raptures  of  you  to  Mrs.  Gut- 
teridge.  The  distinguished  respect  the  people  have  shown  you  does 
them  much  more  honour  than  it  can  do  you.  You  are  intimate,  I  find, 
with  Mr.  Beddome's  family.  'Y\\ey  are,  indeed,  a  lovely  family,  truly 
friendly,  liberal,  and  intelligent :  there  is  no  house  where  1  spend  my 
t^^me  more  agreeably  in  London  or  the  environs.  The  parcel  you  sent 
me  consists  of  a  very  polite  letter  from  Mr.  Roberts,  enclosing  a  copy 
of  verses,  elegant,  and  truly  and  stricdy  poetical,  that  is,  replete  with 
fiction,  containing  praises  whicli  my  heart  compels  me  to  disclaim  with 
a  sigh  !  O  my  friend,  what  an  infinity  of  time  I  have  lost,  and  how 
ardendy  do  T  long  to  do  something  which  shall  convince  the  world  I 
have  not  lived  in  vain  !  My  wishes,  in  this  respect,  will,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  never  be  fulfilled.  Tranquillity  is  not  my  lot.  The  prey,  in 
early  life,  of  passion  and  calamity,  I  am  now  perfectly  devoured  with 
an  impatience  to  redeem  time,  and  to  be  of  some  lasting  benefit  to  the 
world,  at  least  to  the  church.     But  this  inter  nos. 


You  wish  me  to  answer  Bishop  Horsley.  You  have  seen,  probably, 
Rowland  Hill's  sermon.  I  should  be  little  disposed  to  answer 'HorsXey, 
or  any  individual.  AVere  any  thing  to  be  done,  it  should,  in  my  opinion, 
enter  into  the  whole  matter,  containing  an  ample  defence  of  the  liberty 
of  worship,  and  of  the  specific  efforts  of  Methodists  and  dissenters  in 
instructing  and  evangelizing  mankind.*  I,  some  time  since,  put  down 
some  thoughts  on  this  subject ;  but  whether  I  shall  proceed  will  depend 
on  the   conduct  of  the  government ;  as  a  laboured  defence  would  be, 

*  Soe  the  Fragmenis  on  Toleration,  ,tc.  in  Vol.  II.— Eb. 


LETTERS.  2lt 

probably,  impolitic,  without  a  projected  attack.  Pray  come  soon  to 
see  us.  My  respects  to  Mr.  Thompson,  Miss  Wilkinson,  Beddomes, 
Petries,  and  other  friends,  as  if  named. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Yours  constantly  and  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


IX. 

TO  MRS,  TUCKER,  PLYMOUTH  DOCK. 

Dear  Madam,  Cambridge,  Feb.  18,  1802. 

I  know  not  what  apology  to  make  for  having  so  long  neglected  to 
fulfil  my  part  of  the  mutual  promise  of  correspondence.  Impute  it  to 
any  thing  rather  than  indifference ;  for  I  can  assure  you,  with  the 
utmost  sincerity,  that  your  kindness  to  me  while  I  had  the  happiness 
of  being  under  your  roof  left  an  impression  on  my  mind  of  gratitude 
and  esteem  which  no  time  can  efface.  It  is  doing  no  sort  of  justice  to 
my  feelings  to  say  that  it  exceeded  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  expe- 
rienced in  my  life  ;  and  heightens  the  regret  I  feel  at  the  probability 
of  few  opportunities  of  personal  intercourse  with  a  friend  v»'ho  has  so 
great  a  claim  to  my  regard,  and  in  whose  welfare  I  shall  always  feel 
myself  so  deeply  interested.  When  I  look  back  on  my  past  days 
(alas  !  why  should  I  ever  look  back),  the  few  I  spent  at  Plymouth  Dock 
appear  like  a  bright  spot  in  a  dreary  prospect.  Though  my  friends  at 
Bristol  were  disposed  to  be  displeased  at  my  staying  so  long  in  Devon- 
shire, I  shall  never  repent  of  it,  since  it  afforded  me  an  opportunity  of 
renewing  and  cementing  a  virtuous  friendship — the  only  kind  of  friend- 
ship that  will  flourish  to  eternal  ages.  Yes,  madam,  I  hope  to  renew  with 
you  the  remembrance  of  my  visit  to  Dock,  and  of  your  kindness,  before 
the  Throne  where  distance  will  no  more  interrupt  the  intercourse  of  kin- 
dred minds.  What  a  happiness  to  reflect,  though  separated  here,  we  are 
advancing  every  step  nearer  to  the  place  of  meeting ;  and  in  the  mean  time 
we  are  mingling  our  addresses  at  the  same  mercy-seat,  imbibing  pleasure 
at  the  same  spring,  and  deposing  our  anxieties  in  the  same  compas- 
sionate bosom.  There  is  a  divine  reality  in  the  communion  of  saints, 
which  I  pray  we  may  more  and  more  experience. 

I  have  just  been  reading  Dr.  Whitehead's  Life  of  Mr.  Wesley  :  it 
has  given  me  a  much  more  enlarged  idea  of  the  virtues  and  labours  of 
that  extraordinary  man  than  I  ever  had  before,  I  would  not  incur  the 
guilt  of  that  virulent  abuse  which  Toplady  cast  upon  him,  for  points 
merely  speculative  and  of  very  little  importance,  for  ten  thousand 
worlds.  When  will  the  Christian  world  cease  disputing  about  religion, 
and  begin  to  enter  into  its  spirit,  and  practise  its  precepts  ?  I  am 
attempting  to  write  a  vindication  of  village  preaching  and  of  Sunday- 
schools,  but  M'hen  it  will  be  out  I  do  not  know  ;  I  endeavour  '«  do  a 
little  at  it  every  day,  but  am  a  slow  hand. 


218  LETTERS. 

From  several  quarters  I  am  given  to  understand  my  preaching  at 
Plymouth  and  Dock  gave  general  dissatisfaction.  This  intelligence 
gives  me  no  particular  concern,  being  conscious  of  my  upright  inten- 
tions ;  but  if  it  arose  in  any  degree  from  the  practical  complexion  of 
my  addresses  I  am  sorry,  as  it  indicates  a  tincture  of  that  antinomian 
spirit  which  threatens  to  deluge  the  church. 

******* 

I  am,  dear  Madam, 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


TO  MRS.  TUCKER. 


Dear  Madam,  Shelford,  Feb.  14,  1804. 

In  truth  I  had  almost  despaired  of  the  honour  of  ever  hearing  from 
you  any  more :  it  was  therefore  no  small  gratification  to  me  to  be 
indulged  once  more  with  a  sight  of  your  handwriting.  I  sincerely 
sympathize  with  you,  my  amiable  friend,  in  the  heavy  loss  you  have 
sustained,  in  being  deprived  of  so  excellent  a  father,  who  must  have 
been  endeared  to  you  in  no  ordinary  degree,  not  only  by  the  ties  of 
nature,  but  by  the  peculiar  tenderness  and  affection  he  ever  displayed 
tlirough  an  intimate  and  almost  uninterrupted  intercourse  of  a  long 
series  of  years.  I  know  by  experience  the  pang  which  the  loss  of  an 
affectionate  parent  produces,  though  under  circumstances  which  possi- 
bly might  render  the  blow  somewhat  less  severe  than  that  which  you 
sustain.  For  many  years  previous  to  the  death  of  my  most  excellent 
father,  my  situation  had  permitted  me  but  little  opportunity  of  inter- 
course, which,  though  it  did  not  in  the  least  impair  my  esteem  or  reve- 
rence, probably  diminished  that  tenderness  and  vehemence  of  attachment 
which  virtuous  children  never  fail  to  feel  towards  the  deserving  parents 
with  whom  they  reside.  Allowing,  however,  for  this  difference,  I  well 
know  the  desolating,  the  withering  sensation  which  pervades  the  heart 
on  the  loss  of  an  affectionate  father.  We  feel,  with  a  conviction  as 
instantaneous  as  lightning,  that  the  loss  is  irreparable, — that  the  void 
can  never  be  supplied,  and  that,  however  many  amiable  and  excellent 
friends  we  may  have  left,  there  is  none  who  will  so  naturally  care  for 
our  souls.  I  can  most  easily  conceive,  therefore,  and  most  tenderly 
sympathize  witli,  the  sorrow  which  so  great  a  blow  must  inflict  on  so 
tender  a  heart.  The  aids  of  reason  and  religion  may  inspire  resigna- 
tion ;  but  nothing  but  the  torrent  of  time  will  wear  away  the  traces  of 
sorrow,  and  leave  in  the  heart  a  tender  and  not  an  afflicting  remem- 
brance. It  is  needless,  to  a  mind  so  vigorous  as  yours,  to  recall  to 
your  remembrance  the  many  sources  of  gratitude  which  remain  in  the 
midst  of  your  iiffliction,  and  the  great  alleviations  which  accompany  it. 


LETTERS.  219 

Tou  will  reflect,  I  am  persuaded,  with  gratitude,  on  the  great  number 
of  years  your  dear  father  was  spared  to  you ;  you  will  remember  the 
moral  impossibility  of  his  continuing  to  enjoy,  at  so  advanced  [an  age,] 
many  additional  years  of  happiness  on  earth ;  and,  what  will  afford 
you  the  truest  consolation,  you  will  follow  him  within  the  veil,  and  con- 
template him  resting  from  his  labours,  and  sitting  down  with  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  How  infinitely  indebted, 
my  amiable  friend,  are  we  to  that  gospel  which  gives  us  everlasting 
consolation,  and  a  good  hope  through  grace  !  May  He  who  alone  has 
immediate  access  to  the  heart  calm  every  agitation,  and  solace  every 
disquietude  of  your  breast !  My  excellent  friend  will  not,  I  am  per- 
suaded, abandon  herself  to  immoderate  sorrow.  I  trust,  at  least,  you 
will  be  extremely  upon  your  guard  against  indulging  that  luxury  of 
grief,  as  it  has  been  termed,  which,  however  congenial  to  the  extreme 
sensibility  of  your  temper,  would  disqualify  you  alike  for  happiness  and 
duty.  Your  domestic  station  will,  happily  for  you,  afford  that  occupa- 
tion and  diversion  to  your  thoughts  which  will  have  a  powerful  tend- 
ency to  moderate  the  excesses  of  grief. 

******** 

I  am,  dear  Madam, 
Yours  most  sincerely  and  respectfully, 

Robert  Hall. 


XL 

TO  MR.  HEWITT  FYSH,  CAMBERWELL, 

ON  THE  DKATH  OF  MRS.  FYSH, 

My  dear  Friend,  Shelford,  March  11,  1804. 

I  deeply  sympathize  with  you  in  the  great  loss  you  have  sustained 
by  the  decease  of  your  most  excellent  wife.  It  is  a  stroke  which  will 
be  long  felt  by  all  her  surviving  friends  ;  how  much  more  by  a  person 
with  whom  she  was  so  long  and  so  happily  united  !  There  are  many 
considerations,  however,  which  must  occur  to  your  mind,  in  alleviation 
of  your  distress.  The  dear  deceased  had  long  been  rendered  incapa- 
ble by  the  severity  of  her  affliction  of  enjoying  life ;  and  a  further 
extension  of  it  would  have  been  but  a  prolongation  of  wo.  Much  as 
her  friends  must  regret  her  loss,  to  have  been  eagerly  solicitous  for  her 
continuance  here  would  have  been  a  refined  selfishness,  rather  than 
true  friendship.  She  was  spared  for  the  kindest  purposes ;  to  exem- 
plify the  power  of  religion  in  producing  a  cheerful  resignation  to  the 
will  of  God,  through  a  long  series  of  suffering,  to  a  degree  which  I 
never  saw  equalled  in  any  other  instance.  There  was  the  faith  and 
patience  of  the  saints.  Her  graces  were  most  severely  tried,  and  surely 
never  did  any  shine  brighter.  The  most  active  and  zealous  services 
in  religion  could  not  have  yielded  more  glory  to  God  than  the  dignified 


220  LETTERS. 

composure,  the  unruffled  tranquillity,  and  the  unaltered  sweetness  she 
maintained  amid  her  trials.  0,  my  dear  friend,  let  the  image  of  her 
virtues  be  ever  impressed  on  your  heart,  and  ever  improved  as  an  incen- 
tive to  that  close  walk  with  God  which  laid  the  foundation  of  all  her 
excellence.  To  have  had  an  opportunity  of  contemplating  the  influence 
of  genuine  religion  so  intimately,  and  under  so  interesting  a  form,  is  a 
privilege  which  falls  to  the  lot  of  few,  and  is  surely  one  of  the  most 
inestimable  advantages  we  can  possess.  That  she  was  spared  to  you 
so  long — tliat  her  patience  continued  unexhausted  amid  so  severe  a 
pressure — and,  above  all,  that  you  have  so  well-grounded  an  assurance 
of  her  happiness,  must  fill  you  with  a  grateful  sense  of  the  Divine  good- 
ness. This  state  is  designed  to  be  a  mingled  scene,  in  which  joy  and 
sorrow,  serenity  and  storms,  take  their  turns.  A  perpetuity  of  either 
would  be  unsuitable  to  us.  An  uninterrupted  series  of  prosperity  would 
fill  us  with  worldly  passions.  An  unbroken  continuity  of  adversity 
would  unfit  us  for  exertion.  The  spirit  would  fail  before  him,  and  the 
souls  which  he  hath  made.  Pain  and  pleasure,  scenes  of  satisfaction 
and  sorrow,  are  admirably  attempered  with  each  other ;  so  as  to  give 
us  constant  room  for  thankfulness,  and  yet  to  remind  us  that  this  is  not 
oitr  rest.  Our  dear  and  invaluable  friend  has  entered  into  the  world 
of  perfect  spirits,  to  which  she  made  so  near  an  approach  during  her 
continuance  here.  To  a  mind  so  refined,  and  exercised  in  the  school 
of  affliction,  so  resigned  to  the  Divine  will,  and  so  replete  with  devotion 
and  benevolence,  how  easy  and  delightful  was  the  transition  !  To  her 
to  live  was  Christ,  and  to  die  was  gain.  Let  us  improve  this  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  by  imitating  her  example  ;  let  us  cherish  her  memory 
with  reverential  tenderness  ;  and  consider  it  as  an  additional  call  to  all 
we  have  received  before  to  seek  the  things  that  are  above.  I  confess 
the  thought  of  so  dear  a  friend  having  left  this  world  makes  an  abate- 
ment of  its  value  in  my  estimation,  as  I  doubt  not  it  will  still  more  in 
yours.  The  thought  of  my  journey  to  London  gives  me  little  or  no 
pleasure  :  for  I  shall  hear  the  accents  of  that  voice  which  so  naturally 
expressed  the  animation  of  benevolence — I  shall  behold  that  counte- 
nance which  displayed  so  many  amiable  sentiments — no  more.  But 
can  we  wish  her  back?  Can  we  wish  to  recall  her  from  that  blissful 
society  which  she  has  joined,  and  where  she  is  singing  a  new  song? 
No,  my  dear  friend  ! — you  will  not  be  so  selfish.  You  will,  I  trust, 
aspire  with  greater  ardour  than  ever  after  the  heavenly  world,  and  be 
daily  imploring  fresh  supplies  of  that  grace  which  will  fit  you  for  an 
everlasting  union  with  our  deceased  friend.  I  hope  her  amiable  nieces 
will  profit  by  this  expressive  event.  And  as  they  have  (blessed  be 
God  for  it !)  begun  to  seek  after  Sion  with  their  faces  thitherward,  that 
they  will  walk  forward  with  additional  firmness  and  alacrity.  I  shall 
make  little  or  no  stay  in  London  on  my  first  journey ;  but,  as  I  long 
to  see  you,  will  spend  the  11th  instant  (that  is,  the  evening  preceding 
my  engagement  to  preach)  at  your  house,  if  agreeable.  I  shall  be  glad 
to  see  Mr.  Dore,  but  pray  do  not  ask  strangers. 

I  am  your  sympathizing  friend, 

KoBKUT  Hall, 


LETTERS.  22l 

XII. 

TO  DR.  GREGORY. 

ORIGIN   AND    OBJECT    OF    THE    ECLECTIC    REVIEW. 

Foulmire  {near  Cambridge),  Oct.  30,  1804. 
My  dear  Friend, 
You  have  probably  heard  of  the  project  of  a  new  Review,  called 
the  Eclectic  Review,  which  is  intended  to  counteract  the  irreligious 
bias  which  seems  to  attach  to  almost  all  literary  journals.  Whether  a 
sufficient  number  of  persons  of  real  talents  can  be  procured  to  give  it 
permanent  credit  and  support,  appears  to  me  very  doubtful.  Mr. 
Greathead  has  written  to  request  my  assistance,  and  I  intend  occa- 
sionally to  write  in  it.  I  have  at  the  same  time  taken  the  liberty  to 
mention  Mr.  Gregory,  as  a  person  admirabl)''  adapted  to  conduct  the 
mathematical  and  astronomical  department,  if  he  can  be  persuaded. 
Mr.  Greathead  has  accordingly  requested  me  to  write  to  you  on  this 
subject,  and  to  assure  you  that  your  assistance  will  be  most  welcome, 
and  the  terms  your  own.  I  really  think  a  review  of  the  kind  pro- 
posed would  be  a  public  benefit :  as  the  cause  of  piety  and  moderate  or- 
thodoxy stands  no  chance  at  present.  Will  you  permit  me  to  inform  Mr. 
Greathead,  to  whom  it  is  left  to  treat  with  writers,  that  you  are  willing 
to  contribute  to  it  in  the  line  of  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy  ? 


XIII. 

TO  WILLIAM  HOLLICK,  ESQ.  OF  WHITTLESFORD,  NEAR 
CAMBRIDGE. 

ON    HIS    OWN   RECOVERY    FROM    A    SEVERE    MALADY. 

My  dear  Friend,  Lticester,  Feb.  26,  1805. 

I  thought  it  would  be  some  satisfaction  lo  you  to  hear  that  I  con-^ 
tinue,  through  the  blessing  of  God,  perfectly  well.  My  health,  through 
Divine  mercy,  was  never  better  ;  nor  can  I  be  sufficiently  thankful  to 
that  good  Providence  which  has  recovered  me  from  the  gates  of  death. 
Motives  for  gratitude  crowd  in  upon  me  on  every  side ;  and  the  most 
I  have  to  complain  of  is,  that  my  heart  is  so  little  alive  to  their  im- 
pression. 

When,  my  dear  sir,  we  look  back  upon  past  life,  what  a  series  of 
evidences  present  themselves  of  a  presiding  and  parental  care  !  With 
what  propriety  may  we  adopt   the  language  of  David :  "  Bless  the 


322  LETTERS. 

Lord,  O  my  soul ;  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name ;  who 
forgiveth  all  thine  iniquities,  who  healeth  all  thy  diseases,  who 
redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction,  who  crowneth  thee  wiih  loving" 
kindness  and  with  tender  mercies  !"  I  am  more  and  more  convinced 
that  nothing  deserves  to  be  called  life  that  is  not  devoted  to  the  service 
of  God ;  and  that  piety  is  the  only  true  wisdom.  But,  alas  !  how 
difficult  it  is  to  get  these  lessons  deeply  impressed  on  the  heart,  and 
wrought  into  the  whole  habit  of  the  mind !  I  have  not  yet  been  at 
Arnsby,  but  shall  go  there  in  a  day  or  two,  and  propose  to  spend  about 
ten  days  there  ;  and  shall  probably  visit  Cambridge  in  little  more  than 
a  fortnight.  My  spirits  are  rather  low  ;  but  my  mind  is  composed, 
and  in  some  measure  resigned  to  the  leading  and  conduct  of  Divine 
Providence.  The  narrow  bounds  of  my  experience  have  furnished 
me  with  such  a  conviction  of  the  vanity  of  this  world,  and  the  illusion 
of  its  prospects,  that  I  indulge  no  eager  hopes.  If  God  enables  me 
to  do  some  little  good,  and  preserves  me  from  great  calamities,  it  Avill 
be  enough,  and  infinitely  more  than  I  deserve  ;  for  I  have  been,  in  the 

most  emphatic  sense  of  the  word,  "  an  unprofitable  servant." 

******** 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Yours  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


XIV. 

TO  DR.  GREGORY. 

ON    THE    CERTAINTY    ATTENDING    RELIGIOUS    KNOWLEDGE. 

My  dear  Friend,  Foulmire,  Sept.  4,  1805. 

Let  me  beg  you  will  not  impute  my  long  silence  to  a  diminution  of 
esteem  or  affection.  It  arose  simply  from  my  being  conscious  of  my 
utter  inability  to  make  any  such  reply  to  your  letter  as  should  be  in 
the  least  degree  satisfactory.  The  subject  on  wiiich  you  have  touched 
in  your  last  is  so  unspeakably  intricate,  that  the  more  I  have  reflected 
upon  it,  the  more  I  have  seemed  to  feel  myself  losi  and  perplexed. 
Of  all  the  problems  proposed  to  the  human  understanding,  the  inquiry 
respecting  the  certainty  of  the  objects  of  human  knowledge  seems  the 
most  dilhcult  of  solution.  If  the  ideal  theory  of  Locke  be  true,  and 
there  be  no  resemblance  between  the  impressions  made  on  the  senses 
and  the  inherent  qualities  of  external  objects,  we  cannot  be  said  to 
have  any  absolute  knowledge  of  things  without  us.  In  things  of  an 
abstract  nature,  such  as  the  relations  of  quantity,  ihe  consciousness  of  a 
distinct  agreement  and  disagreement  of  our  ideas  lays  a  sufficient 
basis  of  science,  though  the  objects  themselves  to  which  the  science 
is  referred  be  supposed  to  have  no  existence.  It  matters  not  whether 
there  be  a  circle  in  the  world,  in  regard  to  the  certainty  M'ith  Mhich 
we  accede  to  the  propositions  which  explain  its  properties.      It  is 


LETTERS.  223 

entirely  an  affair  of  the  mind — an  arrangement  of  its  internal  con- 
ceptions. When  we  transfer  our  ideas  to  religion,  they  appear  to  attain 
as  much  certainty  at  least  as  satisfies  us  in  the  common  affairs  of  life. 
We  must  at  once  abandon  all  reasoning,  or  admit  the  proofs  of  design 
in  the  works  of  nature ;  and  design  necessarily  implies  a  designing 
agent.  Thus  the  being  of  a  God  appears  to  rest  on  the  firmest 
basis,  though  it  may  be  impossible  to  determine,  from  the  light  of 
reason,  what  that  being  is.  When  we  advance  to  revelation,  the  evi- 
dence of  testimony  is  as  clearly  applicable  to  the  supernatural  facts 
of  Scripture  as  to  any  other  species  of  facts  whatsoever  ;  and  we 
seem  capable  of  knowing  as  much  of  God  in  his  works  and  ways  as 
of  any  other  subject.  I  concur  with  you  entirely,  that  the  phenomena 
of  religion  are  perfectly  on  a  level  in  this  respect  with  any  other 
phenomena ;  and  cannot  but  tliink  that  there  is  a  very  exact  analogy 
subsisting  between  grace  and  force,  together  with  other  principles, 
whose  existence  we  are  obliged  to  admit,  though  we  know  nothing  of 
them  but  in  their  effects.  We  can  never  penetrate  beyond  effects  ;•  we 
can  never  contemplate  causes  in  themselves,  at  least  in  our  present 
dark  and  benighted  condition :  so  that  the  skeptical  tendency  of  meta- 
physical science  ought  to  come  in  aid  of  our  religious  belief^  by  show- 
ing that  religion  labours  under  no  other  difficulties  than  those  which 
envelop  all  the  fundamental  principles  of  knowledge.  The  pro- 
foundest  metaphysician  will,  in  my  opinion  [casteris  paribus),  be  always 
the  humblest  Christian.  Superficial  minds  will  be  apt  to  start  at  the 
obscurities  of  religion,  and  to  conceive  that  every  thing  is  plain  which 
relates  to  the  objects  of  science  and  the  affairs  of  common  life.  But 
the  profound  thinker  will  perceive  the  fallacy  of  this  ;  and  when  he 
observes  the  utter  impossibility  of  tracing  the  real  relations  of  impres- 
sions and  phenomena  to  the  objects  out  of  ovrsehes,  together  with  the 
necessity  of  believing  a  First  Cause,  he  will  be  ready  to  conclude  that 
the  Deity  is,  in  a  manner,  the  only  reality,  and  the  truths  relating  to 
him  the  most  certain,  as  well  as  the  most  important.  Common  minds 
mistake  the  deep  impression  of  the  phenomena  of  worldly  affairs  for 
clearness  of  evidence  with  respect  to  the  objects  themselves  ;  than 
Avhich  nothing  can  be  more  distinct. 

You  perceive  I  can  do  nothing  more,  on  this  subject,  than  echo 
back  your  own  sentiments,  which  are  such  as  I  have  long  maintained. 

I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  throw  some  additional  light  on  these 
intricate  points,  but  I  am  utterly  unable  to  do  it.  How  far  you  can 
introduce  any  speculations  of  this  sort  into  your  philosophical  works, 
with  advantage,  you  are  most  competent  to  determine.  It  may,  prob- 
ably, have  the  good  effect  of  admonishing  sciolists  that  the  pursuits  of 
science,  when  conducted  with  a  proper  spirit,  are  not  inimical  to  reli- 
gious belief. 

My  health  is,  through  unspeakable  mercy,  perfectly  restored,  except- 
ing a  good  deal  of  the  pain  in  my  back.  It  will  give  me  much  plea- 
sure to  see  you  at  Foulmire.  Please  to  remember  me  affectionately 
to  Mrs.  Gregory. 


224  LETTERS. 

I  am,  my  dear  friend,  with  ardent  wishes  for  your  temporal  and 
eternal  welfare, 

Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


XV. 

TO  WILLIAM  HOLLICK,  ESQ. 

ON    HIS    RECOVERY   FROM    A    SECOND    ATTACK. 

My  dear  Friend,  Feb.  1,  1806. 

Accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  your  kind  letter.  Every  assurance  of 
tespect  from  old  friends,  and  especially  from  one  whose  friendship  has 
been  so  long  tried,  and  evinced  on  so  many  occasions,  must  afford 
much  satisfaction  to  a  person  in  any  situation.  Though  Providence 
has  produced  a  separation,  which  will  probably  be  of  long  continuance 
(and,  in  one  sense,  final),  nothing,  I  am  certain,  can  efface  from  my 
mind  those  impressions  of  gratitude  and  esteem  with  which  I  shall 
ever  look  back  on  my  connexions  at  Cambridge  and  its  vicinity.  Witli 
the  deepest  submission,  I  wish  to  bow  to  the  mandate  of  that  awful, 
yet,  I  trust,  paternal  Power,  which,  when  it  pleases,  confounds  all 
human  hopes,  and  lays  us  prostrate  in  the  dust.  It  is  for  Him  to  dis- 
pose of  his  creatures  as  he  pleases  ;  and,  if  they  be  wiUing  and  obe- 
dient, to  work  out  their  happiness,  though  by  methods  the  most  painful 
and  afflictive.  His  plans  are  infinitely  extended,  and  his  measures 
determined  by  views  of  that  ultimate  issue,  that  final  result,  which 
transcends  our  comprehension.  It  is  Avith  the  sincerest  gratitude  I 
would  acknowledge  the  goodness  of  God  in  restoring  me.  I  am,  as 
far  as  I  can  judge,  as  [remote]  from  any  thing  wild  and  irregular  in  the 
state  of  my  mind  as  I  ever  was  in  my  life  ;  though  I  think,  owing  prob- 
ably to  the  former  increased  excitation,  I  feel  some  abatement  of 
vigour.  My  mind  seems  inert.  During  my  affliction,  I  have  not  been 
entirely  forsaken  of  God,  nor  left  destitute  of  that  calm  trust  in  his 
providence  which  was  requisite  to  support  me :  yet  I  have  not  been 
favoured  with  that  intimate  communion,  and  that  delightful  sense  of 
his  love,  which  I  have  enjoyed  on  former  occasions.  I  have  seldom 
been  without  a  degree  of  composure,  though  I  have  had  little  consolation 
or  joy.  Such,  with  little  variation,  has  been  my  mental  state,  very 
nearly  from  the  time  of  my  coming  to  the  Fishponds ;  for  I  had  not 
been  here  more  than  a  fortnight  before  I  found  myself  perfectly  recov- 
ered, though  my  pulse  continued  too  high.  It  has  long  subsided,  and 
exhibits,  the  doctor  assures  me,  every  indication  of  confirmed  health. 

With  respect  to  my  future  prospects  and  plans,  they  are  necessarily 
in  a  state  of  great  uncertainty.  I  am  fully  convinced  of  the  propriety 
of  relinquishing  my  pastoral  charge  at  Cambridge,  which  I  shall  do,  in 


LETTERS.  225 

an  official  letter  to  the  church,  as  soon  as  I  leave  Dr.  Cox,  which,  I 
believe,  will  be  at  the  expiration  of  the  quarter  from  my  coming.  My 
return  to  Cambridgeshire  was,  I  am  convinced,  extremely  ill  judged  ; 
nor  had  I  the  smallest  intention  of  doing  it,  until  I  was  acquainted  with 
the  generous  interposition  of  my  friends,  to  which  it  appeared  to  me 
that  my  declining  to  live  among  them  would  appear  a  most  ungrateful 
return.  I  most  earnestly  request  that  they  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
believe,  the  intention  I  have  named,  of  declining  the  pastoral  charge, 
does  not  proceed  from  any  such  motive,  but  from  the  exigences  of  my 
situation,  and  a  sense  of  duty.  I  propose  to  lay  aside  preaching  for 
at  least  a  twelvemonth. 

Please  to  remember  me  affectionately  and  respectfully  to  your  cousin, 
and  all  inquiring  friends,  as  if  named. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 
Your  aftectionate  and  obliged  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 

P.S. — Please  to  present  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  HoUick  and  your 
daughter- 


XVI. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

Fishponds,  Feb.  15,  1806. 

Since  I  have  been  here,  another  stroke  has  befallen  me  under  which 
my  heart  is  bleeding.  This  is  the  death  of  my  dear  and  only  brother, 
two  years  older  than  myself,  who  died  about  ten  days  since,  without  a 
moment's  warning.  He  was  reaching  something  from  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  instantly  dropped  down,  and  expired.  He  had  been  for 
some  years  truly  religious,  so  that  I  entertain  pleasing  views  respecting 
his  eternal  state,  which  is  my  only  consolation.  I  feel  poignant  regret 
at  not  having  treated  him  with  more  tenderness.  I  longed  to  have  an 
opportunity  of  convincing  him  of  the  ardour  of  my  affection  ;  which 
makes  me  feel  most  painfully,  that  in  losing  him  I  have  lost  the  human 
being  of  all  others  the  most  dear  to  my  heart.  I  hear  a  voice,  in 
this  most  affecting  providence,  speaking  to  me  aloud,  "  Be  thou  also 
ready."  I  follow  the  dear  deceased  in  his  mysterious  journey,  and 
seem  to  stand  on  the  very  boundary  that  divides  two  worlds  from  each 
other,  [while  the]  emptiness  and  vanity  of  every  thing  besides  [God] 
is  deeply  impressed  on  my  heart,  my  hopes,  of  an  earthly  kind,  are 
extinguished.  1  feel  my  emptiness  ;  but,  O,  I  long  to  be  fdled.  To  be 
convinced  of  the  vanity  of  the  creature  is,  I  know,  the  first  step  to 
happiness :  but  what  can  this  avail,  unless  it  be  succeeded  by  a  satis- 
fying sense  of  the  fulness  and  all-sufficien(;y  of  God  !  Through  mercy, 
my  health  is  perfectly  restored. 

Vol.  hi.— P 


226  LETTERS. 


XVII. 


TO  THE  CHURCH  OF  CHRIST  OF  THE  BAPTIST  PERSUA- 
SION IN  CAMBRIDGE. 

ON    RESIGNING    THE    PASTORAL   CHARGE. 

My  dear  Brethren,  Leicester,  March  4,  1806. 

A  succession  of  afflictive  dispensations  has  brought  me  to  the  reso- 
lution of  resigning  the  pastoral  office,  which  I  have  for  a  considerable 
number  of  years  exercised  among  you. 

I  cannot  reflect  on  the  numberless  and  decisive  proofs  you  have 
afforded  me  of  your  attachment  during  that  period  without  the  warmest 
gratitude  ;  nor  think  of  a  final  separation  without  regret.  No  people 
ever  received  the  ministerial  services  of  their  pastor  with  more  can- 
dour ;  or  evinced,  on  every  occasion,  a  greater  solicitude  to  contribute 
to  his  happiness.  It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  at  large  on  the  circum- 
stances which  have  determined  me  to  relinquish  the  situation  I  have  so 
long  held.  They  are  partly  local,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word, 
and  in  part  arise  from  my  recent  illness,  which  suggests  the  propriety 
of  suspending  the  ministerial  functions  for  the  present. 

The  dissolution  of  that  union  which  has  subsisted  with  such  unin- 
terrupted harmony  is  the  Avork  of  Providence,  whose  operations  are 
often  mysterious,  but  alw'ays  infinitely  wise  and  gracious.  Permit  me, 
my  dear  brethren,  at  parting  with  you,  to  express  the  deep  and  unal- 
terable sense  I  shall  ever  feel  of  the  candour,  kindness,  and  generosity  I 
have  uniformly  experienced  at  your  hands.  You  will  ever  have  a  distin- 
guished place  in  my  affections  and  my  prayers.  It  is  my  earnest  prayer, 
that  the  truth  it  has  been  my  humble  endeavour  to  inculcate  among 
you  may  take  deeper  and  deeper  root  in  your  hearts  and  lives  ;  that  you 
may  obey  from  the  heart  that  form  of  doctrine  into  which  you  have  been 
delivered.  May  our  separation  not  be  final  and  eternal ;  but  may  we 
be  so  preserved  and  sanctified,  by  the  influence  of  divine  grace,  that, 
when  the  transitory  days  of  our  mortal  pilgrimage  are  conchided,  we 
may  be  permitted  to  spend  a  bhssful  eternity  together  !  Let  me  make 
it  my  earnest  request,  that  you  will  be  careful  to  choose  a  minister 
whose  heart  is  truly  devoted  to  God,  and  who  is  determined,  like  the 
great  apostle,  "to  know  nothing  among  you,  save  Jesus  Christ  and 
him  crucified." 

That    your   faith  may    increase  exceedingly,   and  your   love    one 
towards  anotlier  abound  more  and  more,  till  you  arrive  "  at  the  fuhiess 
of  the  stature  of  perfect  men  in  Christ,"  and   are  "  presented  before 
him  unblameable  in  holiness,"  is  tlie  habitual  and  earnest  prayer  of 
Your  late  unworthy  Pastor, 

And  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  237 


XVIIl. 

THE  BAPTIST  CHURCH  AT  CAMBRIDGE  TO  THE  REV. 
ROBERT  HALL.* 

IN   REPLY    TO    THE    PRECEDING. 

Dear  Brother, 
Though  your  letter  containing  your  resignation  of  the  pastoral 
office  among  us  had  been  expected,  in  consequence  of  an  intimation 
previously  communicated  by  you,  it  was  received  by  us  with  deep  re- 
gret;  yet,  we  trust,  in  the  spirit  of  humble  submission  to  that  all-wise 
Providence  which  has  seen  fit  to  dissolve  the  union  that  has  so  long 
and  so  happily  subsisted  between  us.  Be  assured,  you  will  ever  hold 
a  distinguished  place  in  our  most  affectionate  remembrances  ;  nor  shall 
we  forget  you  in  our  mingled  supplications  at  the  footstool  of  divine 
Mercy.  We  hope  ever  to  preserve  a  grateful  recollection  of  your  long 
and  faithful  services.  We  bear  you  witness,  that  the  prevailing  desire 
of  your  heart,  and  the  constant  object  of  your  labours,  was  to  dissemi- 
nate among  us  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God,  and  of  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  he  hath  sent ;  and  to  fit  us,  by  divine  grace,  for  the  enjoyment 
of  a  future  world.  And  we  pray  that  the  important  truths  which  you 
have  so  repeatedly  and  energetically  inculcated  may  constantly  be 
adhered  to  by  us.  In  the  loss  of  such  a  pastor  we  have  sustained  a 
deprivation  of  no  common  magnitude  ;  but  while  we  lament  the  painful 
separation  which  has  taken  place,  we  desire  to  mingle  with  feelings  of 
sorrow  on  our  own  account  those  of  sincere  thanksgiving  on  yours. 
We  rejoice  that  God  has  restored  you :  and  we  pray  that  your  health 
and  strength  may  long  be  preserved ;  and  lliat  He  who  appoints  the 
bounds  of  our  habitation  will  direct  you  to  whatever  place  may  be 
most  conducive  to  your  permanent  health  and  happiness.  As  frequently 
as  possible,  we  hope  you  will  favour  us  with  your  friendly  visits.  The 
real  and  ardent  friendship  which  subsists  between  us  it  is  our  sincere 
desire  should  continue  through  our  mortal  existence,  and  gather  fresh 

*  These,  and  the  two  preceding  letters  to  Mr.  W.  Hollick,  will  serve  to  correct  the  misstatement 
which  has  appeared  in  two  or  three  periodical  and  other  publications  :  "  The  intervention  of  malady 
separated  him  from  a  congregation  which  he  had  multiplied  in  number  and  elevated  in  character; 
and  when  he  unexpectedly  recovered,  he  found  that  his  office  was  filled  by  another."  Nothnig  can 
he  more  inaccurate  than  this  assertion  ;  nothing  more  unjuSt.  The  church  and  congregation, 
during  Mr.  Hall's  .separation  from  tliein  in  consequence  of  his  indisposition,  evinced  tlie  utmost 
solicllude  on  his  account.  They  made  arrangements  to  receive  weekly  communications  as  to  his 
progress  towards  recovery ;  which  were  read  publicly  to  the  assembled  congregation  everv  Sun- 
day On  the  permanent  dissolution  of  their  conne.xion,  to  which  the  above  letters  so  aflfectingly 
allude,  they  did  iioi  content  themselves  with  bewailing  his  loss ;  but  they  exerted  themselves  most 
actively  and  successfully  in  raising  a  sufficient  sum  to  purchase  for  him  a  handsome  annuitv,  and 
otherwise  to  contribute  effectually  to  his  comfort.  During  the  quarter  of  a  century  which  intervened 
between  his  removal  from  Cambridge  and  his  death,  they  continued  to  manifest  for  him  the  mcst  cor- 
dial affection  and  the  highest  veneration.  His  periodical  visits  to  them  were  seasons  of  real  dolighf, 
diffusing  (shall  I  say  ?)  a  gleam  of  pious  hilarity  and  intellectual  and  spiritual  refreshiiienl  over  all. 
And  more  than  once  has  Mr.  Hall  assured  me,  that  every  such  visit  produced  the  most  unequivocal 
proofs  of  their  undiminished  esteem  and  friendship.  I  feel  it  due  to  my  old  and  valued  friends 
at  Cambridge,  a  sense  of  whose  kindness,  intelligence,  and  excellence  the  lapse  of  nearly  thirty 
years  has  not  effaced,  to  record  this  my  humble  testimony  to  their  delicately  grateful  and  gen- 
erous conduct  towards  their  fornter  invaluable  pastor. — Ed. 

P2 


228  LETTERS, 

strength  by  every  future  interview  ;  and  we  feel  no  hesitation  in  believ- 
ing, that  it  will  survive  the  grave,  and  be  perpetuated  to  immortal  ages. 

In  tlie  choice  of  your  successor  we  wish  to  be  guided  by  the  mo- 
tives you  reconmiend,  and  the  principles  you  have  so  frequently  incul- 
cated :  and  we  entreat  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  that  tlie  great  Head 
of  the  Cluu'ch  will  supply  us  with  one  zealous  for  his  honour,  and 
qualified  to  feed  the  people  of  his  charge  with  the  bread  of  immortal 
life. 

Now,  dear  brother,  with  the  greatest  affection,  "  we  commend  you 
to  God,  and  to  the  good  word  of  his  grace." 

Signed  at  the  desire,  and  on  behalf,  of  the  whole  church,  this  IGth 
day  of  March,  1806. 

William  Hollick.   ' 


XIX. 

TO  MR.  NEWTON  BOSWORTH,  CAMBRIDGE. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Ai/giist  26,  1806. 

My  long  silence  will  naturally  surprise  you,  till  you  hear  the  reason 
of  it.  The  box  which  contained  your  letter  has  remained  at  Bristol, 
unopened,  till  last  week  ;  nor  did  I  receive  your  very  kind  favour  until 
a  few  days  since.  This  is  the  true  state  of  the  case,  and  must  plead 
my  apology  for  a  silence  which  must  otherwise  appear  so  unkind  and 
unnatural. 

Permit  me  to  express  my  acknowledgments  for  the  expressions  of 
regard  contained  in  your  letter,  of  the  reality  and  warmth  of  which  I 
cannot  entertain  a  moment's  hesitation,  as  they  are  so  perfectly  in 
unison  with  every  part  of  your  conduct  during  all  the  years  I  have  had 
the  happiness  of  knowing  you.  Your  congratulations  on  my  recovery 
affect  and  humble  me,  as  I  am  perfectly  conscious  of  my  not  deserving 
the  hundredth  part  of  the  esteem  they  imply.  If  my  ministry  has 
been  at  all  blessed,  as  the  means  of  spiritual  good  to  your  soul,  God 
alone  is  entitled  to  the  praise.  I  have  been,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  an  unprofitable  servant.  When  I  consider  the  value  of  souls, 
the  preciousness  of  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  the  weight  of  eternal 
things,  I  am  ashamed  and  astonished  to  think  I  could  have  spoken  of 
such  subjects  with  so  little  impression,  and  that  I  did  not  travail  in 
birth  more,  till  Christ  was  formed  in  my  hearers.  I  have  no  plea  for 
my  negligence,  no  hope  of  pardon,  but  what  is  founded  on  that  atone- 
ment and  intercession  I  have  endeavoured,  though  so  very  faintly,  to 
recommend  to  others.  Every  fresh  experience  of  life  convinces  me 
more  and  jnore  ol"  the  trulli  and  importance  of  the  doctrines  I  have 
preached ;  and,  l)lcssed  be  God  !  I  am  sometimes  favoured  with  some 
experimental  taste  of  their  sweetness.  As  often  as  1  look  back  on 
such  seasons,  I  am  ready  to  exclaim, — 


LETTERS.  229 

"  Where  can  such  sweetness  bej 
As  I  have  tasted  in  thy  love, 
As  I  have  found  in  thee?" 

0,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  press  towards  the  mark.  We  know  where 
true  happiness  is  to  be  found.  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead ;  but  let 
us  follow  Christ,  and  aspire,  with  an  intense  and  increasing  ardour,  to 
the  heavenly  kingdom.  Happy  shall  we  be  if  we  can  habitually  act 
as  becomes  those  who  are  but  a  few  steps  from  heaven. 

I  rejoice  in  your  domestic  felicity.  May  it  long  be  continued,  and, 
if  possible,  increased,  without  being  permitted  (and  God  can  attemper 
all  things)  to  abate  your  ardour  after  heavenly  enjoyments. 

Your  account  of  the  reception  of  Mr.  Gregory's  book  on  Mechanics 

gives  me  great  pleasure.     He 

*****  *** 

thus  affording  a  demonstration  that  the  highest  scientific  attainments 
are  by  no  means  incompatible  with  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel. 
Please  to  remember  me  affectionately  to  hnn  when  you  write.  May 
God  long  preserve  and  bless  him ! 

I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  proffered  assistance  in  packing  up 
my  books,  which  I  shall  probably  shortly  need  ;  for  I  am  tired  of  wan- 
dering, and  propose  soon  to  fix  upon  some  place  where  I  may  have 
my  books  about  me. 

Remember  me  to  Mrs.  Bosworth,  and  all  other  friends,  as  if  named. 
Pray  let  me  hear  from  you  soon  and  often. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Yours  most  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


XX. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  friend  Phillips,  Leicester,  Jan.  2,  1807. 

I  ought  long  since  to  have  written  to  you,  but  you  know  what  a 
poor  correspondent  I  am,  and  how  reluctant  to  write  lettei"s.  I  feel 
myself  much  obliged  by  your  kind  favour.  Your  letter,  like  many 
things  else  in  human  life,  contained  a  mixture  of  what  excited  melan- 
choly with  what  produced  pleasing  emotions.  The  succession  of 
calamitous  accidents  which  befell  our  friends  in  your  neighbourhood  is 
truly  singular  and  affecting.  I  am  happy  to  hear  every  one  of  the 
sufferers  is  doing  well.  1  hope  it  will  have  the  right  impression  on 
their  minds,  by  bringing  them  nearer  [to  God ;]  and  they  will  have 
abundant  occasion  for  thankfulness,  even  if  their  respective  calamities 
had  been  worse.  Present  my  kind  and  sympathizing  respects  to  each 
of  them,  the  first  opportunity.  Your  account  of  Ireland  interested  me 
much.     The  state  of  the  class  of  inhabitants  you  describe  is  truly 


230  LETTERS. 

deplorable.  I  am  afraid  any  attempts  to  remove  their  ignorance  will 
have  little  success,  unless  some  methods  could  be  adopted  at  the  same 
time  to  relieve  their  excessive  poverty.  There  is  a  close  connexion 
between  the  two.  I  suppose  their  poverty  must  be  ascribed  to  the 
want  of  encouragement  to  industry  afforded  by  the  landed  proprietors, 
and,  perhaps,  in  some  measure,  to  the  hardihood  of  their  constitution, 
which  enables  the  Irish  peasantry  to  subsist  and  multiply  where  a  more 
feeble  race  would  absolutely  perish.  You  give  no  account  of  the 
lakes  of  Killarney,  which,  I  understand,  are  singularly  sublime  and 
beautiful. 

You  are  desirous  of  some  information  respecting  my  situation  and 
intentions,  I  have  not  yet  taken  possession  of  my  apartments  at  En- 
derby,  having  been  detained  at  Leicester  by  the  affliction  of  my  sister 
and  niece  ;  the  former  is  nearly  recovered,  the  latter  is  not  worse,  and 
1  intend  to  go  to  Enderby  to-morrow  or  Monday  at  furthest.  Enderby 
is  a  very  pleasant  village,  about  five  miles  from  Leicester;  it  stands 
upon  a  hill,  and  commands  a  very  pleasant  and  beautiful  view.  I  am 
extremely  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  you  there  in  the  spring. 
I  hope  nothing  will  occur  to  disappoint  me.  Be  assured  I  shall  do 
every  thing  in  my  power  to  make  your  visit  pleasant.  I  have  no 
immediate  intention  of  coming  to  London :  there  are  some  friends 
there  and  in  the  vicinity  it  would  give  me  much  pleasure  to  see  ;  but 
the  bustle  and  hurry  of  London  are  little  suited  to  my  taste. 

*  ******* 

But  my  times  are  in  the  hand  of  God ;  and  my  chief  solicitude,  if 
I  do  not  greatly  deceive  myself,  is  to  please  him  in  all  things,  who  is 
[entitled]  to  all  my  love,  and  infinitely  more  than  all,  if  possible ;  and 
who  is,  indeed,  my  "  covenant  God  and  Father,  hi  Christ  Jesus."  I 
do  not  at  all  regret  my  past  afflictions,  severe  as  they  have  been,  but 
am  persuaded  [they]  were  wisely  and  mercifully  ordered.  I  preach 
most  Sabbaths,  though  at  no  one  place  statedly,  and  have  found  con- 
siderable pleasure  in  my  work.  I  have  little  or  no  plan  for  the  future, 
but  endeavour  to  abandon  myself  entirely  to  the  Divine  direction.  All 
I  have  to  lament  is  the  want  of  more  nearness  to  God,  and  a  heart 
more  entirely  filled  with  his  love,  and  devoted  to  his  service.  Pray  let 
me  hear  from  you  often  :  a  letter  from  you  never  fails  to  give  mo  a  high 
degree  of  pleasure.  Please  to  remember  me  affectionately  and  re- 
spectfully to  Miss  Wilkinson,  and  to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  should  you  see 
him,  and  to  Mr.  Beddome's  family,  in  all  its  branches. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Yours  most  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 

Present  my  kind  respects  to  Mrs.  Phillips. 


LETTERS.  231 

XXI. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  COX. 

Dear  Sir,  Enderhy,  April  2€,  1807. 

**#*  *  *«# 

The  lukewarmness  of  a  part,  the  genteeler  part  of  congregations, 
with  respect  to  vital  religion,  is  matter  of  grief  to  me.  Many  have 
the  form  of  religion,  while  they  are  in  a  great  measure  destitute  of  the 
power  of  it.  With  respect  to  the  excuses  that  this  class  are  ready  to 
make  for  neglecting  private  meetings,  it  might  not  be  amiss  to  urge 
them  to  inquire  whence  the  indisposition  to  devote  a  small  portion  of 
their  time  to  religious  exercises  arises.  If  it  spring  from  a  secret 
alienation  of  heart  from  devotional  exercises,  or  from  a  preference  to  the 
world,  it  affords  a  most  melancholy  indication  of  the  state  of  the  mind. 
It  is  surely  a  most  pitiful  apology  for  declining  such  services,  that  they  are 
not  commanded  by  the  letter  of  the  New  Testament.  Whoever  says 
this  virtually  declares  that  he  would  never  give  any  time  to  religion 
unless  he  were  compelled.  The  New  Testament  is  sparing  in  its 
injunctions  of  external  or  instnnnental  duties.  But  does  it  not  warn, 
in  a  most  awful  manner,  against  the  love  of  the  world ;  enjoin  fervour 
of  spirit,  deadness  to  the  present  state,  and  the  directing  all  our  actions 
solely  to  the  glory  of  God  ?  How  these  dispositions  and  principles 
can  consist  with  an  habitual  reluctance  to  all  social  exercises  of  reli- 
gion, except  such  as  are  absolutely  and  universally  enjoined,  I  am  at 
a  loss  to  determine.  If  the  real  source  and  spring  of  the  neglect  of 
devotional  exercises,  whether  social  or  private,  be  an  estrangement  from 
God,  and  attachment  to  the  world,  the  pretences  by  which  it  is  attempted 
to  be  justified  only  enhance  its  guilt. 

With  respect  to  the  doctrine  of  election,  I  would  state  it  in  Scripture 
terms,  and  obviate  the  antinomian  interpretation,  by  remarking  that 
man,  as  man,  is  said  to  be  chosen  to  obedience,  to  be  conformed  to  the 
image  of  his  Son,  &c.,  and  not  on  a  foresight  of  his  faith  or  obedience  ; 
as  also  that  the  distinction  between  true  believers  and  others  is  often 
expressly  ascribed  to  God.  "  Thou  hast  hid  these  things." — "  To  you 
it  is  given  not  only  to  believe,"  &,c. — "  As  many  as  were  ordained  to 
eternal  life  believed."  As  the  doctrine  of  election,  however,  occupies 
but  a  small  part  of  the  New  Testament  revelation,  it  should  not,  in 
my  opinion,  be  made  a  prominent  point  in  the  Christian  ministry.  It  is 
well  to  reserve  it  for  the  contemplation  of  Christians,  as  matter  of 
humiliation  and  of  awful  joy  ;  but,  in  addressing  an  audience  on  the 
general  topics  of  religion,  it  is  best  perhaps  to  speak  in  a  general 
strain.  The  gospel  affords  ample  encouragement  to  all ;  its  generous 
spirit  and  large  invitations  should  not  be  cramped  and  fettered  by  the 
scrupulosity  of  system.  The  medium  observed  by  Baxter  and  Howe 
is,  in  my  opinion,  far  the  most  eligible  on  those  points. 


232  LETTERS. 

On  the  other  subject  you  mention*  1  perceive  no  difficulty ;  none,  I 
mean,  to  embarrass  the  mind  of  a  minister.  On  a  subject  so  awful  and 
mysterious,  what  remains  for  us  but  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture, 
without  attempting  to  enter  into  any  metaphysical  subtleties,  or  daring 
to  lower  what  appears  to  be  its  natural  import  1  A  faithful  exhibition 
of  the  Scripture  declarations  on  this  subject  must  be  adapted,  under  a 
Divine  blessing,  to  produce  the  most  awful  and  salutary  effects. 
With  best  wishes  for  your  welfare, 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Yours  affectionately  and  sincerely, 

Robert  Hall, 


XXII. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  RYLAND. 


Leicester,  Dec.  28,  1 808. 

*  *  *  I  hope  you  continue  to  enjoy  much  religious  prosperity. 
The  only  comfortable  reflection,  in  the  present  state  of  the  world, 
is  the  apparent  increase  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  His  glory,  his 
gospel,  his  grace,  are,  I  hope,  considerably  advancing :  and  how  little 
are  all  the  revolutions  of  kingdoms  when  compared  to  this  1  We 
should  rejoice  in  every  event  which  seems  to  tend  to  that  issue ;  and, 
on  this  account,  I  am  more  than  reconciled  to  the  recent  intelligence 
from  Spain.  I  long  to  see  the  strongholds  demolished,  and  "  every 
thing  that  exalteih"  brought  into  subjection  to  Christ.  How  deep  an 
infatuation  blinds  the  counsels  of  Great  Britain !  How  fatal  may 
we  fear  the  intimate  alliance  of  this  country  with  the  papal  power, 
which  the  vengeance  of  God  has  marked  out  for  destruction  !  May  the 
Lord  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and  "fill  the  whole  earth  with  his  glory!" 

I  am  now  removed  to  Leicester,  and  find  my  situation,  on  the  whole, 
very  comfortable.  The  people  are  a  simple-hearted,  afTectionate, 
praying  people,  to  whom  I  preach  with  more  pleasure  than  to  the  more 
refined  audience  at  Cambridge.  We  have  had,  through  great  mercy, 
some  small  addition,  and  hope  for  more.  Our  meetings  in  general, 
our  prayer-meetings  in  particular,  are  well  attended.  For  myself,  my 
mind  and  body  are  both  much  out  of  order  ;  awful  doubt  and  darkness 
hanging  on  the  former,  and  much  affliction  and  pain  hi  the  latter :  let 
me,  dear  brother,  entreat  an  interest  in  your  prayers. 
I  am,  my  dear  Brother, 

Yours  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 
P,S. — In  gratitude  to  God,  and  to  my  dear  companion,  I  must  add, 
that  marriage  has  added  (a  little  to  my  cares),  7nuch  to  my  comfort,  and 
that  I  am  indidged  with  one  of  the  best  of  wives, 

*  That  of  future  punishment,  1  presume. — Ed» 


LETTERS.  233 


XXIII. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

Leicester,  Feb.  16,  1809. 
*****  *** 

*  *  *  *  Rogers  1  have  not  yet  found  time 

to  read  through.  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  am  much  pleased  with  the  piety 
and  spirit  of  it,  as  far  as  I  have  gone.  I  have  read  Zeal  without  Inno- 
vation with  extreme  disgust :  it  is  written  with  shrewdness  and  ability  ; 
but  is,  in  my  esteem,  a  base,  malicious,  timeserving  publication.  It 
was  lent  me  by  Mr.  Robinson,  who,  in  common  with  all  the  serious 
clergy  in  these  parts,  disapproves  it  highly.     I  suppose  the  author 

wrote  it  to  curry  favour  with  such  men  as  the and 

to  procure  a  living.  His  poverty  is  to  be  pitied ;  but  I  hope  I  would 
rather  starve  in  a  workhouse  than  be  the  author  of  such  a  book.  I 
am  afraid  there  is  a  party  rising  among  the  evangelical  clergy,  that 
will  ruin  the  reformation  which  has  been  going  on  in  the  established 
church  during  the  last  forty  or  fifty  years.  *  *  * 


XXIV. 

TO  A  FRIEND  IN  PERPLEXITY  AS  TO  HIS  RELIGIOUS  STATE. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  April  20,  1809. 

I  am  much  concerned  to  learn  the  unhappy  state  of  your  mind 
respecting  religion.  You  may  depend  upon  no  one  seeing  the  letter 
but  myself;  and  I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  say  any  thing  that 
might  be  of  use.  Of  this  I  have  very  little  hope  ;  for  the  adage  might, 
in  too  great  a  degree,  be  applied  to  me — "Physician,  heal  thyself;"  as 
I  labour  under  much  darkness  and  despondency  respecting  my  religious 
-prospects,  through  the  prevalence  of  indwelling  corruptions.  What 
then,  my  dear  sir,  can  I  say  to  you,  or  to  any  other  ?  I  would  recommend 
you,  above  all  things,  to  have  recourse  to  prayer — to  fervent,  importu- 
nate, persevering  prayer.  Take  no  denial :  if  you  cannot  pray  long, 
pray  often.  Take  the  utmost  pains  in  preparing  your  heart,  and  in  the 
exercises  of  the  closet ;  for  surely  an  assurance  of  the  forgiveness 
of  sin,  the  light  of  God's  Spirit,  and  the  animating  hope  of  glory 
are  worth  all  the  labour,  and  infinitely  more  than  all,  we  are  capable 
of  using  to  attain  them.  They  are  heaven  upon  earth.  From 
what  I  know  by  experience,  though  it  is  not  with  me  now  as  in  months 
past,   the   enjoyment   of  God    throws    every  other   enjoyment  thai 


234  LETTERS. 

can  be  realized  or  conceived,  at  an  infinite  distamce.  Fix  it  in 
your  mind,  my  dear  friend,  as  a  most  certain  truth,  that  there  is 
nothing  deserves  to  be  pursued  for  a  moment,  but  in  subordination  to 
God  and  for  God ;  and  then  act  accordingly,  and  you  will  probably 
soon  find  a  strange  change  for  the  better.  Exposed  as  you  necessarily 
are  to  the  society  of  many  who  have  either  no  religion  or  feel  but  little 
of  its  vital  power,  you  are  in  peculiar  danger  of  forming  slight  ideas 
of  its  importance, — of  being  taught  to  look  upon  it  as  a  secondary  thing, 
an  occasional  law,  whose  authority  is  to  be  interposed,  like  the  law 
of  the  land,  to  regulate  other  things, — instead  of  looking  upon  it  as  a 
vital,  prevailing  principle  of  the  heart  and  life.  Many,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
never  attain  the  blessings  of  religion,  because  they  never  form  that 
estimate  of  its  dignity  which  is  consonant  with  the  oracles  of  God. 
Did  it  not  seem  like  presumption,  I  should  earnestly  recommend  the 
daily  perusal,  besides  the  Scriptures  (which  I  take  it  for  granted  you 
cannot  omit),  of  some  practical  and  experimental  divinity.  We  have 
great  store  of  it;  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress,  his  and  Watts's  Ser- 
mons, and  above  all,  if  I  may  speak  from  my  own  experience,  the 
wonderful  Howe — particularly  his  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous,  his 
Living  Temple  (the  latter  part),  his  Treatise  on  Delighting  in  God. 
Perhaps  you  will  say  you  have  not  time  for  this  ;  but  here  the  question 
recurs  again.  What  is  of  the  most  importance  for  a  creature  that  is 
to  live  for  ever — to  be  rich  in  this  world,  or  to  be  rich  towards  God  ?  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  the  liberty  I  have  taken,  from  a  regard  to  the 
motive,  which,  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe,  is  pure  and 
disinterested. 

I  remain,  my  dear*  Sir,  yours  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


XXV. 

TO  THE  SAME. 


My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  July  17,  1809. 

I  duly  received  yours.  Be  assured,  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
spiritual  trials,  having  had  a  large  share  of  them  myself.  I  wish  I 
could  adopt  the  language  of  Dido  to  the  Trojans  throughout — "  Hand 
ignora  mali  rniseris  succurrere  disco.''''  The  "  haud  ignora  maW''  is 
fully  applicable  to  myself;  but  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  yet  learned  the 
art  of  suggesting  what  may  be  useful  to  others  in  similar  circumstances. 
I  want  "  the  tongue  of  the  learned,  that  I  may  be  able  to  speak  a  word 
in  season  to  him  that  is  weary."  I  congratulate  you  on  your  retaining 
your  religious  sensibility :  the  most  dangerous  spiritual  symptom  is 
apathy,  or  a  stupid  indifference  to  our  real  situation.  While  we  have 
feeling  enough  to  comphiin,  we  give  unequivocal  indications  of  life  ; 
however  disordered  its  functions,  or  languid  its  actions,  may  be.    What 


LETTERS.  2S5 

advice,  my  dear  sir,  can  I  possibly  give  you,  but  what  your  own  good 
sense  will  suggest — that  of  giving  all  diligence,  and  following  on  ? 
"  Then,"  says  the  prophet,  "  shall  ye  know,  if  you  follow  on  to  know 
the  Lord."  Set  a  firm  resolution  against  the  indulgence  of  sin  in  any 
form.  I  know  you  too  well  to  suspect  external  irregularities  ;  but  we 
are  both  fully  convinced  "  the  commandment  is  exceeding  broad,"  and 
that,  if  we  would  walk  in  the  light  of  God's  blessed  countenance,  we 
must  keep  the  heart  with  all  diligence,  or,  as  the  expression  signifies, 
"  above  all  keeping."  You  will  doubtless  find  your  account  in  the 
serious,  punctual,  undeviating  attention  to  private  prayer,  and  reading 
of  the  Scriptures. 

I  feel  a  pleasing  confidence  that  you  are  too  much  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  religion  to  suffer  these  exercises  to  be  superseded 
by  any  worldly  enjoyments,  or  to  be  attended  to  in  a  slight,  perfunctory 
manner,  resting  in  the  opus  operatum,  instead  of  improving  them  as 
means  of  nearness  to  God,  and  growth  in  grace.  Would  it  not  be 
advisable  for  you  to  give  yourself  up  publicly  to  the  Lord  ?  Might  not 
your  solemn  engagement  to  be  his,  in  the  ties  of  a  Christian  profession, 
have  a  happy  influence  on  the  train  of  your  sentiments  and  conduct ; 
not  to  say,  that  if  you  truly  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  you  must 
necessarily  feel  a  desire  to  keep  his  commandments  1  I  am  glad  to 
hear  you  are  happy  with  Mrs. .  Please  to  remember  me  affection- 
ately to  Mrs. ,  to  — ^ — 's  family  in  all  its  branches,  to  Mr. , 

•And  all  inquiring  friends. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
With  great  respect,  yours,  &c. 

Robert  Hall. 


XXVL 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Sept.  I,  1809. 

Whether  I  owe  you  a  letter,  or  you  me,  I  cannot  say ;  but  this  I 
know,  that  it  seems  a  long  time  since  I  heard  from  you.  My  affection 
for  you  rendeee  me  uneasy  under  so  long  a  silence,  and  makes  me 
anxious  to  hear  how  you  go  on.  The  last  letter  you  favoured  me  with 
gave  me  a  pleasing  account  of  your  religious  prosperity :  your  pros- 
pects in  this  respect  are,  I  hope,  brighter  and  brighter.  Among  the 
very  elegant  and  polite  part  of  your  audience,  you  are  too  well  ^ 
acquainted  with  human  nature  to  flatter  yourself  with  much  success ; 
but  you  have  been  honoured  as  the  instrument  of  drawing  a  considerable 
number  of  the  poor  and  of  the  middling  classes  to  a  place  where  they  had 
no  thought  of  attending  before.  Here  you  will,  in  all  probability,  find 
your  most  favourable  soil.  I  am  sure  you  will  cultivate  it  with  care;' 
■and  hope  you  will,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  reap  an  abundant  harvest. 


236  LETTERS. 

Were  we  but  more  strongly  and  abidingly  impressed  with  the  value 
of  immortal  souls,  with  what  godly  simplicity,  what  earnestness,  and 
what  irresistible  pathos  should  we  address  them!  Perhaps  the 
inequaHty  of  the  effect  produced  by  different  preachers  is  to  be 
ascribed  more  to  the  different  degrees  of  benevolent  and  devotional 
feeling,  than  to  any  other  cause.  Job  Orton  remarks,  in  his  Letters, 
that  he  knew  a  good  man  of  very  slender  abilities,  who  was  eminently 
useful  in  the  conversion  of  soiils ;  which  was,  in  his  opinion,  to  be 
ascribed  chiefly  to  the  peculiarly  solemn  manner  in  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  speak  of  divine  things. 

I  had  hoped  to  have  seen  you  during  the  summer  at  Leicester, 
which  would  have  been  a  very  high  gratification,  as  I  know  not  when 
I  shall  reach  London.  I  have  no  spirits  for  such  an  undertakmg :  my 
complicated  afflictions  have  left  me  but  half  a  man.  The  apprehension 
of  mingled  society,  of  being  exposed  to  various  sorts  of  company,  is 
too  formidable  for  me  at  present  to  surmount.  I  am  severely  and 
habitually  afliicted  with  my  old  complaint :  but  have  I  any  room  to 


I  am  happy  in  my  domestic  connexion,  being  blessed  with  an  affec- 
tionate, amiable  woman,  and  a  lovely  little  girl,  about  five  months 
old.  My  dear  wife  enjoys  a  better  state  of  health  than  for  some  time 
past ;  and  the  dear  infant  is  quite  well.  We  have  lately  enlarged  our 
place  of  worship,  and  have  the  prospect  of  its  being  well  filled.  I  hope 
we  experience  some  little  of  the  presence  of  the  Lord  in  the  midst  of 
us.  I  beg  to  be  most  respectfully  remembered  to  Miss  Wilkinson,  and 
to  thank  her  for  her  very  kind  congratulations  and  good  wishes  on  my 

marriage.    Remember  me  also  most  affectionately  to  dear  Mrs.  P , 

and  to  all  inquiring  friends  ;  and  pray  let  me  hear  from  you  very  soon. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


XXVII. 

TO  EBENEZER  FOSTER,  ESQ.,  CAMBRIDGE. 

Dear  Sir,  Manchester,  Nov.  4,  1809. 

I  write  this  from  Manchester,  to  which  your  letter  was  sent  from 
Leicester.  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  it.  It  gives  me  much  pleasure  to 
hear  of  the  very  flourishing  state  of  the  congregation  ;  though  I  am 
concerned  at  the  poor  account  you  give  me  of  Mr.  Chase's  health.  I 
hope  he  will  be  speedily  restored,  and  be  contumed  as  an  extensive 
blessing  among  you.  The  prosperity  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  the 
most  delightfid  object  a  real  Christian  can  contemplate.  May  he 
speedily  take  "  upon  himself  his  great  power  and  reign."     I  cannot 


LETTERS.  ■  2dt 

but  indulge  the  belief  that  real  Christianity  is  increasing  in  the  world ; 
and  that  wliat  we  perceive  of  this  kind  at  present  is  but  the  dawn  of  a 
more  glorious  era,  which  will  shortly  arrive.  The  convulsed  state  of 
the  world,  and  the  limitation  of  popish  power,  announce  the  speedy 
accomplishment  of  prophecy,  in  the  triumphant  establishment  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ.  Wherever  the  gospel  is  preached,  there  is  a 
disposition,  unknown  in  former  times,  to  attend  upon  it. 

Poor  M !  he  has  finished  his  career. 

When  we  look  back  upon  those  who  have  been  too  much  addicted 
to  the  love  of  the  world,  what  a  dream,  what  a  vanity  does  it  appear ! 
how  unworthy  the  supreme  pursuit  of  a  creature  who  is  hastening  to 
his  final  account !     May  we,  my  dear  sir,  be  preserved  from  this  fatal 

snare,  and  possess  as  though  we  possessed  not. 

■)(.  *  *  *  *_#  #  * 


XXVIII. 

TO  THE  REV.  JOSIAH  HILL. 


Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Jan.  23,  1810. 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter.  I  am  happy  to  hear  you  are  sO' 
comfortably  settled,  and  that  God  has  provided  you  with  a  suitable 
companion,  with  whom  I  wish  you  may  enjoy  many  years  of  felicity. 
As  to  the  proposal  you  are  so  good  as  to  urge,  of  my  visiting  Pembroke^ 
shire  next  summer,  it  will  be  quite  impracticable.  I  have  one  summer 
excursion  in  view  already  ;  and  a  visit  to  so  remote  a  part  would  occupy 
far  more  time  than  it  would  be  proper  for  me  to  be  absent  from 
Leicester.  I  have  had,  in  a  manner,  a  new  congregation  to  form ;  so 
that  any  considerable  absence  is  attended  with  serious  inconvenience, 
as  the  people  are,  as  yet,  by  no  means  compacted  and  consolidated. 
I  consider  it  as  the  first  duty  of  my  life  well  to  cultivate  my  own  field, 
which  is  such  at  present  as  demands  all  my  care  :  which  I  may  say, 
with  humble  gratitude,  it  rewards,  the  Lord  having,  in  various  instances, 
set  his  seal  to  my  poor  labours.  The  congregation  which  I  serve 
consists  mostly  of  the  poor,  many  of  whom  are,  however,  "  rich  in 
faith  ;"  so  tliat  I  can  truly  say  I  never  found  so  much  encouragement 
in  my  work  as  since  I  have  been  here.  The  effect  of  time,  and  of 
spirits  broken  by  a  series  of  afflictions,  has  been  to  make  me  very 
reluctant  to  travelling.  Nothing  but  the  claims  of  absolute  duty  can 
surmount  that  reluctance.  My  ambition  is  to  spread  the  savour  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  in  the  coimexion  where  I  am  placed,  content  to 
leave  the  more  enterprising  and  brilliant  career  of  an  evangelist  to 
persons  of  more  active  and  ardent  minds.  It  would  give  me  much 
satisfaction  to  meet  my  dear  friend  Phillips  anywhere,  and  more  espe- 
cially under  your  hospitable  roof.  That  pleasure,  however,  I  must 
postpone  till  I  go  to  London,  or  until  he  will  favour  me  with  a  visit  in 


338  LETTERS. 

Leicestershire.  I  shall  be  always  happy  to  see  you,  and  to  hear 
of  your  success  and  prosperity  in  your  great  work.  Of  this  you  say 
you  can  speak  nothing  at  present.  The  congregation,  I  fear,  from  the 
character  of  its  former  pastor,  has  sunk  into  a  very  lethargic  state. 
It  will  be  your  study  and  ambition,  I  am  persuaded,  to  awaken  them, 
and  to  recall  them  to  the  power  of  that  religion  which  "  makes  all 
things  new."  Whatever  speculative  difficulties  you  may  have  felt,  or 
may  still  feel,  you  can  be  at  no  loss  to  discover,  that  the  warm  and 
affectionate  preaching  of  Christ  crucified  is  the  grand  instrument  of 
forming  lively  Christians.  May  you  in  this  glorious  attempt  be  abun- 
dantly honoured  and  blessed. 

I  return  you  my  warmest  thanks  for  every  expression  of  esteem  and 
affection  with  which  you  have  honoured  me,  and  remain,  with  senti- 
ments of  high  esteem,  dear  Sir, 

Youi  affectionate  Brother, 

Robert  Haxl. 


XXIX. 

TO    WILLIAM    HOLLiCK,    ESQ. 

ON    THE    DEATH    OF    MRS.    HOLLICK. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  July  6,  1810. 

I  sincerely  sympathize  with  you  m  the  heavy  stroke  with  which  your 
heavenly  Father  has  seen  fit  to  visit  you  in  the  removal  of  your  dear 
partner,  with  whom  you  have  so  long  trod  the  paths  of  this  weary 
pilgrimage.  I  hope  she  has  gone  to  eternal  rest ;  and  you,  my  dear 
friend,  will,  I  trust,  meet  her  in  that  world  where  no  separation,  no 
sorrow  or  sin  will  ever  enter.  "  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  has  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings 
in  him." 

I  have  endeavoured  already,  and  often  shall,  "  to  spread  your  case 
before  the  Lord,"  and  to  entreat  him  to  support  you  under,  and  sanctify 
you  by  this  dispensation.  You  have  learned,  my  dear  friend,  the  terms 
on  which  all  earthly  unions  are  formed ;  the  ties  on  earth  are  not  per- 
petual, and  must  be  dissolved  ;  and  every  enjoyment  but  that  which  is 
spiritual,  every  life  but  that  which  is  "  hid  with  Christ  in  God,"  is 
of  short  duration.  Nothing  here  is  given  with  an  ultimate  view  to 
enjoyment,  but  for  the  purpose  of  trial,  to  prove  us,  and  "  to  know  what 
is  in  our  hearts,  and  if  we  are  upright  before  God,  to  do  us  good  in  the 
latter  end."  You  had,  no  doubt,  often  anticipated  such  an  event  as  the 
inevitable  removal  of  one  from  tlto  other ;  and  I  hope  neither  of  you 
were  wanting  in  making  a  due  improvement  of  the  solemn  reflection, 
and  laying  up  cordial  for  such  an  hour.  Still  I  am  well  aware  that 
the  actual  entrance  of  death  into  the  domestic  circle  is  unutterably 


LETTERS.  239 

solemn,  and  places  things  in  a  different  light  from  what  we  ever  saw 
them  in  before.  You  seem,  and  it  is  with  much  pleasure  I  per- 
ceive it,  fully  aware,  thoroughly  apprized  of  the  true  improvement  to 
be  made  of  this  heavy  blow,  which  is  undoubtedly  intended  to  quicken 
your  preparation  for  a  future  world.  It  loudly  says  to  you,  and 
to  all,  "  Be  ye  also  ready ;  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not,  the 
Son  of  man  cometh."  God  grant  it  may  be  eminently  sanctitled  by 
weaning  you  more  completely  from  this  world,  and  "  setting  your 
affections"  more  entirely  and  habitually  "  on  the  things  that  are  above." 
You  will  then,  in  the  midst  of  that  deep  regret  such  a  loss  has  neceS' 
sarily  inspired,  have  cause  to  bless  God  that  you  were  afflicted. 

We  have  been  for  some  time  in  expectation  of  a  visit  from  you.  I 
hope  you  will  not  disappoint  us,  nor  delay  it  long,  as  my  dear  wife 
expects  in  a  very  few  months  to  be  confined.  We  shall  rejoice  to  see 
you,  and  shall  be  happy  to  contribute  in  some  measure  to  your  solace 
and  relief.  My  wife,  whose  health  is  extremely  delicate  at  best,  and 
very  often  interrupted,  desires  to  be  most  respectfully  and  affectionately 
remembered  to  you.  Please  to  present  my  kindest  and  most  sym- 
pathizing regards  to  your  daughter,  and  love  to  inquiring  friends. 

I  remain,  dear  sir,  with  best  wishes  and  prayers, 

Your  affectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


XXX. 

TO  R.  FOSTER,  JUN.  ESQ.,  CAMBRIDGE. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  July  12,  1811. 

I  thank  you  for  your  favour,  enclosing  a  draught  for  75/.  2^.  9d.f 
and  am  highly  gratified  with  the  genuine  sentiments  of  piety  contained 
in  your  letter.  It  has  been  a  peculiar  satisfaction  to  me,  for  a  long 
time  past,  to  hear  of  your  decided  attachment  to  the  cause  of  God ; 
and  it  is  my  earnest  prayer  that  the  life  of  God,  which  his  grace  has 
commenced,  may  flourish  more,  till  it  issues,  as  it  infallibly  will,  in  the 
fruit  of  eternal  life.  Go  on,  my  dear  sir,  in  the  course  you  have 
begun ;  dare  to  be  singularly  good,  and  to  follow  Jesus  "  out  of  the 
camp,  bearing  his  reproach" — a  reproach  that  will  be  found  "  greater 
riches  than  all  the  treasures  of  Egypt."  You  are  already  the  joy  of 
good  men,  and  a  shining  hope  of  the  church,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
calculate  the  eminent  advantage  you. may  be  of  to  the  interests  of 
religion  in  the  sphere  where  Providence  has  placed  you. 

Your  admonitions  I  take  in  good  part.  I  am  not  without  a  con- 
sciousness of  my  not  having  exerted  my  small  abilities  to  the  extent  I 
ought  in  the  cause  of  religion  ;  but  I  find  strange  and  seemingly  insur- 
mountable obstacles,  arising  in  part  from  a  certain  fastidiousness  of 
taste  which  renders  me  dissatisfied,  and  even  disgusted,  with  all  ray 


240  LETTERS. 

performances.     My  extreme  ill  state  of  health  must  also  be  taken  into 
the  account.     I  am  seldom  free  from  pain,  which  is  often  very  severe. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

Robert  Haxl, 


XXXI. 

TO  JOSEPH  GUTTERIDGE,  ESQ.,  DENMARK  HILL, 
CAMBERWELL. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  September  16,  181L 

I  have  not  rehnquished  my  intention  of  publishing  the  substance 
of  the  sermon  delivered  at  Prescott-street,  though  I  think  it  will  be 
most  proper  to  print  it  in  the  form  of  a  charge,  in  which  it  was  first 
delivered.  You  may  rest  satisfied  I  shall  not  omit  making  mention 
of  the  occasion  on  which  it  was  preached  at  Prescott-street,  and 
embracing  the  opportunity  of  recommending,  as  far  as  lies  in  my 
power,  the  new  institution  to  the  attention  and  patronage  of  the 
religious  public.  The  reason  of  the  sermon  not  appearing  sooner 
has  been,  principally,  an  almost  uninterrupted  struggle  of  painful  dis- 
couragement arising  from  its  appearing  so  contemptible  under  my 
hand.*  The  truth  is,  I  am  tormented  with  the  desire  of  writing  better 
than  I  can,  and  as  this  is  an  obstacle  not  easily  overcome,  I  am  afraid 
it  will  never  be  in  my  power  to  write  much. 


XXXII. 

FROM  MR.  GUTTERIDGE  TO  MR.  HALL. 

Proposing  that  he  should  preach  a  series  op  lectures  in  lonCon. 

Dear  Sir, 
I  am  now  about  to  address  you  on  the  subject  of  our  conversation 
when  last  at  Denmark  Hill.  I  then  suggested  to  you  the  wishes  of 
many  friends  that  you  would  consent  to  visit  London  the  following 
spring,  and  make  arrangements  for  spending  a  longer  time  with  us. 
Several  persons  have  been  inquiring  if  there  were  a  probability  of  such 
an  event  being  realized ;  but  I  did  not  wish  to  trouble  you  further  on 
the  subject  till  it  became  needful  to  do  so. 

*  The  sermon  here  referred  to  is  that  on  the  Discouragements  anJ  S^ypjiorts  of  the  Christiim 
Minister.— Ed. 


LETTERS.  241 

My  idea  has  been,  that  if  you  would  spend  six  weeks  at  least  with 
us,  a  course  of  lectures  might  be  established,  to  be  preached  by  you, 
that,  under  a  Divine  blessing,  without  which  all  our  efforts  are  vain, 
might  be  productive  of  much  good  at  the  present  season.  A  course 
of  lectures,  say  you ; — on  what  subject  ?  I  reply,  on  any  subjects 
that  have  a  tendency  to  counteract  the  impiety  and  irreligion  of  the 
world  in  which  we  live :  and  surely  you  will  admit  this  is  latitude 
sufficient.  I  am  aware  that  some  objections  will  arise  in  your  own 
mind.  You  will  perhaps  indignantly  ask,  "  Does  he  think  I  will  go  to 
London  to  preach  for  money  ?"  You  may  rely  upon  it,  I  have  too 
much  regard  for  you  to  wish  you  to  do  any  thing  that  might  even  be 
interpreted  to  your  discredit.  But  is  it  dishonourable  in  a  man  who  has 
a  family  that  have  claims  upon  him  to  do  that  which  may  promote 
their  comfort  ]  Is  the  fair  and  honourable  exercise  of  talent  to  be 
deprived  of  a  suitable  remuneration  ?  Is  not  "  the  labourer  worthy  of 
his  hire  ?"  And  although  he  who  is  called  to  preach  the  gospel  is  not 
to  be  actuated  by  motives  of  "  hlthy  lucre,"  yet  he  is  nowhere  called 
to  despise  the  cup  of  blessings  that  Providence  may  put  into  his  hands, 
"  who  giveth  us  all  things  richly  to  enjoy."  All  this  I  am  saying  upon 
a  presumption  that  your  friends  will  cheerfully  raise  a  subscription,  of 
which  you  will  know  nothing,  save  the  contents. 

I  should  propose  to  obtain  places  of  worship  well  adapted  for 
evening  lectures,  probably  one  in  the  city  and  one  on  the  other  side 
Temple  Bar;  and  that  on  the  Lord's-day  evening,  and  also  one  evening 
in  the  week,  you  might  alternately  preach  there.  Tliis  plan  would 
leave  your  Sabbath  mornings  at  liberty  to  oblige  particular  friends,  or 
to  supply  destitute  congregations  ;  and  in  this  respect  I  would  propose 
to  fix  you  to  Prescott-street,  if  I  dare.  The  time  that  a-ppears  to  me 
most  suited  for  the  purpose  would  be  the  beginning  of  April ;  and  then 
you  would  be  in  towai  through  the  missionary  meetings.  There  is 
also,  in  the  beginning  of  May,  a  most  important  service  to  be  per- 
formed for  the  "  Orphan  School," — the  only  school  among  Protestant 
dissenters  where  the  children  are  maintained  as  well  as  educated,  and 
which  has  been  upon  the  decline,  but  is  now,  we  hope,  reviving.  I 
should  rejoice  to  see  you  become  the  advocate  of  so  extensive  and 
valuable  an  object ;  and  if  you  fall  in  with  my  design,  you  will,  I  hope, 
undertake  it.  I  hope  Mrs.  Hall  and  the  children  will  come  with  you ; 
you  have  friends  who  will  be  glad  to  take  them  in ;  but  if  you  would 
prefer  a  lodging,  we  can,  I  doubt  not,  manage  that  to  your  satisfaction. 
Thus  have  I  given  you  the  outlines  of  a  plan  which  is  subject  to  any 
alterations  you  may  propose.  Let  me  beg  you  to  take  it  into  your 
serious  consideration,  and  to  send  me  soon  a  favourable  answer. 
I  am,  dear  Sir,  affectionately  yours, 

Joseph  Guiteridge. 

Vol.  in.— Q 


242  LETTERS. 


XXXIII. 

TO  JOSEPH  GUTTERIDGE,  ESQ., 

IN   REPLY    TO    THE    PRECEDING. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Feb.  29,  1812. 

I  have  taken  into  my  most  serious  consideration  the  proposition  laid 
before  me  in  your  last  letter,  and  have  sought  the  advice  of  those 
friends  whose  opinion  I  judged  most  fit  to  be  relied  upon.  Some  of 
them  are  decided  in  favour  of  my  compliance,  others  leave  the  matter 
in  suspense.  My  people  at  Leicester  have  given  their  cheerful  consent, 
on  a  supposition  of  its  appearing  to  me  to  be  the  path  of  duty.  Upon 
making  it  frequent  matter  of  prayer,  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  may  be 
my  duty  to  fall  in  with  tiie  ideas  entertained  by  you  and  others  upon 
this  point,  provided  my  health  admit.  The  difficulties  and  discourage- 
ments attending  the  aftair  appear  to  me  so  formidable,  that  notliing 
could  induce  me  for  a  moment  to  think  of  encountering  them  but  an 
apprehension  that  I  might,  by  yielding  to  them,  be  going  against  the 
will  of  God.  I  am  habitually  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  my  having 
already  too  much  hid  my  little  talent  in  a  napkin,  and  should  conse- 
quently rather  risk  the  most  unpleasant  imputations  than  increase  that 
score  of  guilt.  It  ought  to  be  (alas  !  how  weak  my  heart !)  "  a  small 
thing  with  me  to  be  judged  by  man's  judgment :  there  is  one  that 
judgeth,  even  the  Lord."  The  business,  however  prudently  conducted, 
will  expose  me  to  the  censure  of  pride  and  presumption  on  the  part 
of  many ;  and  my  deficiencies  will  disappoint,  I  am  certain,  the 
expectation  of  my  partial  friends.  Nevertheless,  supposing  it  possible 
some  good  m-Aj  result,  I  am  inclined  to  say,  "  I  will  go  in  the  strength 
of  the  Lord  my  God."  An  impediment  lies  in  the  way,  however,  at 
present,  which  must  be  removed  before  I  can  think  of  it ;  that  is,  the 
state  of  my  health.  My  old  complaint  has  grown  upon  me  so  much 
of  late,  that  it  is  widi  great  difficidty  I  can  go  on  with  my  stated  work. 
I  have  been  for  some  time  under  the  necessity  of  taking  fifty,  and 
sometimes  a  hundred  drops  of  laudanum  every  night,  in  order  to  pro- 
cure any  rest.  The  pain  has  been  both  violent  and  very  nearly  con- 
stant. It  is  quite  out  of  the  question  to  think  of  a  journey  to  London 
unless  I  am  better.  So  situated,  whatever  arrangements  are  made 
connected  Avith  the  proposal  you  mention,  must  be  conditional ;  and  I 
shall,  if  you  judge  it  fit  to  give  it  any  further  consideration,  inform  you 
previously  whether  I  can  come  or  not.  It  seems  to  me  there  are  some 
objections  to  the  place  of  preaching  being  alternate  :  will  not  this  inter- 
fere with  its  being  well  known?  The  same  objection  seems  to  apply 
to  the  appointment  of  different  places.  These,  however,  and  all  other 
points,  1  wish  to  submit  to  the  decision  of  friends.  Mrs.  H.  w-ill,  I 
believe,  not  be  able  to  accompany  me.     She  desires  to  be  most 


LETTERS.  243 

respectfully  remembered  to  you  and  Mrs.  G.  Please  to  present  my 
best  respects  to  Mrs.  G.  and  Miss  G.,  and  believe  me  to  be,  with  great 
esteem, 

Dear  Sir,  yours  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


xxxiy. 

TO  JOSEPH  GUTTERIDGE,  ESQ. 

ON    THE    SAME    SUBJECT. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  March  29,  1812. 

I  delayed  writing  to  you  as  long  as  I  could,  that  I  might  the  better 
ascertain  the  state  of  my  health  at  the  time  when  it  was  proposed  I 
should  undertake  my  journey  to  London.  I  now  feel  myself  under  a 
necessity  of  informing  you  and  my  other  friends,  that  my  health  is 
such  as  renders  it  impossible  for  me  to  think  of  engaging  in  such  a 
matter.  It  is  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  I  can  go  through  my  stated 
duties.  I  am  ready  to  suspect  that  the  complaint  under  which  I  have 
so  long  laboured  is  intended  to  "weaken  my  strength  by  the  way," 
and,  at  no  great  distance,  to  bring  me  to  "  the  house  appointed  for  all 
living."  The  pain  is  almost  incessant,  and  often  so  violent  as  to  put 
my  patience  to  its  utmost  exercise.*  I  have  now  for  many  weeks 
been  under  the  necessity  of  taking  seventy  or  eighty  drops  of  laudanum 
every  night,  and  am  often  obliged  to  rise  and  repeat  the  draught  before 
I  can  procure  any  rest.  It  appears  to  me  preposterous  to  think  of 
coming  to  London  in  such  a  situation.  I  can  scarce  ever  sit  up  an 
hour  together  ;  lying  down  is  my  constant  position.  I  consulted  some 
judicious  friends  on  the  subject  of  your  proposal,  and,  above  all, 
made  it  my  business  to  seek  direction  from  the  Fountain  of  wisdom, 
The  result  was,  that  I  came  to  a  determination  to  suspend  the  affaii 
upon  the  state  of  my  health  about  the  time  my  engagements,  in  the 
event  of  compliance,  were  to  commence.  Providence,  by  having 
placed  me  in  my  present  circumstances,  appears  to  have  decided  the 
affair  ;  and  in  that  decision  I  perfectly  acquiesce.  My  mind  is,  to  say 
the  truth,  relieved  from  a  considerable  weight ;  for  nothing  but  a  fear 
of  neglecting  a  possible  opportunity  of  doing  some  little  good  could 
have  reconciled  me  for  a  moment  to  the  proposal  yon,  I  am  persuaded 
with  the  best  intentions,  were  pleased  to  make.  The  appearance  of 
vanUy  and  self-consequence  attached  to  it,  always  presented  itself  aa 
a  most  formidable  obstacle ;  but  this  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  sur- 
mount, reposing,  in  the  midst  of  much  sinister  [interpretation,]  on  the 
rectitude  of  my  intentions,  and  my  conscious  desire  of  complying  with 
the  leadings  of  Providence.  You,  my  dear  sir,  have  been  actuated,  I 
doubt  not,  in  this  affair,  by  a  solicitude  to  promote  the  interest  of  reli- 

*  See  p.  liS5, 156  of  this  volume.— Ed. 

Q2 


244  LETTERS. 

gion,  as  well  as  by  motives  of  the  truest  friendship,  as  far  as  concerns 
myself;  and  you  will  not  fail  to  [reap]  the  satisfaction  which  arises 
from  the  possession  of  such  sentiments.  For  the  trouble  you  have 
been  at  in  making  the  necessary  arrangements,  you  will  be  so  good  as 
to  accept  my  sincere  acknowledgments. 

With  truest  affection  and  esteem, 
I  remain,  dear  Sir, 

Yours  constantly, 

Robert  Hall. 


XXXV, 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  Phillips,  Leicester,  April  16,  1812. 

I  was  extremely  gratified  to  hear  once  from  you  again ;  and  if  you 
knew  how  much  pleasure  it  yields  me  to  receive  a  letter  from  you,  I 
flatter  myself  you  would  indulge  me  oftener.  I  have  little  to  commu- 
nicate that  will  be  interesting  to  you,  but  could  not  let  so  affectionate 
an  epistle  lie  by  long  unanswered.  My  state  of  health,  I  need  not 
tell  you,  has  long  been  extremely  ill :  it  appears  to  me  as  if  my  con- 
stitution was  breaking  up ;  and  I  have  little  doubt,  unless  my  malady 
takes  a  favourable  turn,  it  will,  ere  it  be  long,  reduce  me  to  the  dust. 
I  am  not  better  than  my  fathers  :  I  am  deeply  conscious  I  am  corrected 
less,  yea,  infinitely  less,  than  my  iniquities  deserve.  I  hope  I  am  more 
anxious  to  see  my  heavy  affliction  sanctified  than  removed.  Whether 
it  would  be  best  for  it  to  be  removed  may  well  be  doubted :  of  the 
admirable  benefits  arising  from  sanctification,  both  in  time  and  eternity, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  I  presume  the  Lord  sees  I  require  more  ham- 
mering and  hewing  than  almost  any  other  stone  that  was  ever  selected 
for  his  spiritual  building,  and  that  is  the  secret  reason  of  his  dealings 
with  me.  Let  me  be  broken  into  a  thousand  pieces,  if  I  may  but  be 
made  up  again,  and  formed  by  his  hand  for  purposes  of  his  mercy.  I 
see  more  and  more  of  the  unspeakable  blessedness  of  being  made  like 
God,  and  of  becoming  partaker  of  his  holiness.  I  see  it,  I  say,  but  I 
do  not  attain;  or,  at  least,  in  so  unspeakably  small  a  degree,  that  I 
have  every  moment  reason  to  be  abased,  and  "  repent  in  dust  and  ashes." 

My  ministry  continues,  through  mercy,  to  be  considerably  blessed 
in  awakening  sinners.  I  cannot  but  hope  the  church  and  congregation 
are  in  a  very  promising  state.  We  are  in  perfect  harmony,  and  we  have 
frequent  additions.  Last  Lord's-day  se'rmight  I  baptized  thirteen,  and 
others  stand  ready.  Blessed .  be  the  Lord  !  My  strain  of  preaching 
is  considerably  altered ;  much  less  elegant,  but  more  intended  for  con- 
viction, for  awakening  the  conscience,  and  carrying  home  truths  with 
power  to  the  heart.  Our  congregation  is  plain  and  serious,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  genteel  people  ;  but  none  in  tlie  church :  and,  indeeil,  if 


LETTERS.  245 

any  saving  fruit  has  been  reaped  from  my  ministry,  it  has  been  ahnost 
entirely  among  the  middling  and  lower  classes. 

Yesterday  we  had  our  second  jubilee  anniversary  of  the  Bible  Society 
for  Leicestershire,  a  happy  harmonious  meeting,  with  one  little  excep- 
tion ;  on  the  church  side,  several  clergymen  spoke ;  but  no  dissenter. 
I  augur  the  most  glorious  and  important  consequences  from  the  Bible 
Society.  I  have  just  finished  the  perusal  of  Mr.  Scott's  answer  to 
Bishop  Tomline.  He  has  demolished  the  bishop  entirely.  I  tind  but 
little  in  Mr.  Scott's  views  against  which  I  can  object.  It  is  somewhat 
loosely  written,  but  full  of  argument,  instruction,  and  piety.  There  is 
a  trait  of  egotism  in  the  good  man  which  had  better  been  avoided. 
He  quotes  almost  entirely  Irom  his  own  works.  It  is  well  for  the 
bishop  his  rank  excuses  bim  from  replying  to  it.  He  would  make  a 
miserable  figure.  I  thank  you  for  your  favourable  opinion  of  my  dis- 
course. It  is  flat ;  but  if  it  be  in  the  least  adapted  to  do  good,  I  ought 
to  rest  satisfied.  I  am  much  rejoiced  to  hear  of  your  intention  of 
visiting  Leicester.     You  must  spend  a  Sabbath  with  me.     I  heard 

Mr. twice,  [as  he  passed]  through  Leicester :  he  is  a  young  man 

of  some  talents,  of  a  good  deal  of  brilliancy,  but  miserably  delective 
in  simplicity.  1  am  afraid  a  vicious  taste  is  gaining  ground,  both 
among  preachers  and  hearers  :  all  glare  and  point,  little  to  the  under- 
standing, and  nothing  to  the  heart.     But  my  paper  admonishes  me  to 

close,  with  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  Phillips,  Miss  W ,  Mr.  and 

Mrs.  Beddome,  Sic,  in  which  Mrs.  H.  joins  me. 
I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  and  constant  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


XXXVI. 

EXTRACT  OF  A  LETTER  TO  MRS.  ANGAS,  NEWCASTLE- 
UPON-TYNE. 

Dear  Madam,  Leicester,  May  8,  1812. 

Though  I  have  nothing  particular  to  communicate,  I  knew  not  how 
to  let  Mrs.  O.  proceed  to  Newcastle  without  dropping  a  line  to  ac- 
knowledge your  kind  letter,  and  present  my  gratitude  for  the  interest 
you  are  pleased  to  take  in  my  welfare.  The  esteem  of  the  pious  and  ex- 
cellent of  the  earth  I  always  consider  as  a  very  distinguished  privilege  ; 
though  the  possession  of  it  is  not  unmingled  with  mortification  at  the 
consideration  of  my  deserving  it  so  little,  and  my  perfect  conviction, 
that  did  they  know  me  more  they  would  esteem  me  less.  It  ought  to 
humble  most  persons  to  reflect,  that  for  a  large  portion  of  the  respect 
in  which  they  are  held,  they  are  indebted  to  ignorance  ;  to  the  neces- 
sary unacquaintance  with  each  other's  hearts.  The  Great  Supreme  is 
the  only  being  from  whom  nothing  is  to  be  feared  on  this  head ;  the  only 


246  LETTERS. 

one  who  may  be  safely  trusted  with  the  worst  secrets  of  our  hearts. 
"  His  mercy  endurelh  for  ever."  He  also  is  able,  and  only  he,  to  cor- 
rect the  obliquities  he  discovers.  The  Leicester  news  you  probably 
hear  from  other  quarters.  I  go  so  little  into  society,  that  the  report 
must  be  strong  and  loud  which  reaches  me. 


XXXVII. 

TO  MR.  NEWTON  BOSWORTH,  CA^IBRIDGE. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  April  23,  1813. 

I  am  ashamed  of  not  having  earlier  answered  the  kind  letter  I  re- 
ceived from  Mrs.  B.,  for  which  I  beg  you  will  present  my  hearty- 
acknowledgments.  I  must  also  thank  you  for  your  book  on  the  Acci- 
dents of  Life.  It  is  a  most  entertaining  production,  and  will,  I  hope, 
be  extensively  useful  m  preventing  or  remedying  a  large  portion  of 
human  calamity.  It  is  pla.inly  dictated  by  the  same  spirit  that  breathed 
in  a  Howard  and  a  Hanway,  and  will  entitle  you  to  a  portion  of  their 
reward. 

As  I  hope  to  see  Cambridge  in  the  course  of  this  summer,  you  will 
not  expect  from  me  a  very  long  letter.  I  recollect,  with  fervent  grati- 
tude, the  kindness  I  there  met  with  ;  mixed  with  much  shame,  to  think 
it  should  have  been  lavished  on  such  an  undeserving  object.  When  I 
recollect  the  course  of  my  ministry  at  Cambridge,  I  feel  continual 
matter  of  condemnation.  "  Do  you  preach  better  now,  then  ?"  you  will 
perhaps  say.  In  one  respect  I  do  not  preach  half  so  well : — I  do  not 
bestow  near  so  much  attention  on  my  composition :  but  I  trust  I  do 
insist  on  more  interesting  and  evangelical  topics.  A  greater  savour  of 
Jesus  Christ  does,  I  trust,  breathe  through  my  ministry,  in  which  it 
was  formerly  greatly  deficient. 

But  why  do  I  speak  so  much  of  myself? — We  last  Monday  held 
our  annual  [meeting  of  the]  Bible  Society.  It  was  more  numerously 
attended  than  ever,  and  delightful  to  see  clergymen  and  dissenting 
ministers  sit  on  the  same  seat,  and  ardently  engaged  in  promoting  the 
same  object,  with  perfect  unanimity.  W^e  cannot  say  of  the  past  times 
that  they  were  better  than  the  present.  I  think  the  age  is  greatly 
improving  :  it  must  improve  in  proportion  as  the  grand  catholicon  is 
more  universally  applied.  *  *  » 

It  would  have  given  me  great  pleasure  to  have  seen  you  this  summer 

at  Leicester:  I  am  sorry  your  letter  indicates  no  intention  of  that  sort. 

******** 

I  am  much  delighted  with  reading  a  new  translation  of  Mosheim's 
Commentaries  on  the  Alfairs  of  the  Christians  before  Constantine,  It 
appears  to  me  one  of  the  most  instructive  theological  pubhcations  that 


LETTERS.  247 

has  appeared  for  a  multitude  of  years.     With  kind  remembrances  to 
Mrs.  B.  and  all  inquiring  friends. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 
P.S. — We  have  had  an  irreparable  loss  in  tlie  removal  of  dear  Mr. 
Robinson.     It  has  been  a  most  affecting  event,  and  has  left  a  chasm 
which  can  never  be  filled  up.     Last  Wednesday  I  endeavoured  to  im- 
prove the  event  by  a  suitable  discourse. 


XXXVIII. 

[When  Mr.  Hall  visited  Cambridge,  in  the  summer  of  1813,  he 
preached  a  sermon  to  the  young  persons  belonging  to  the  congregation 
there  with  which  he  had  formerly  been  connected.  The  next  day 
they  assembled,  and  addressed  to  him  a  letter  of  thanks,  to  which  the 
following  is  his  reply  : — ] 

To  my  young  Friends  of  Mr.  Edmond's  congregation  : 
My  dear  young  Friends, 

I  feel  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  very  affectionate  testimony  of 
your  esteem,  and  rejoice  to  find  my  feeble  attempts  to  impress  religious 
sentiments  were  not  altogether  without  effect.  Your  letter  breathes  a 
spirit  of  unaffected  piety,  which  it  is  impossible  to  witness  wi-thout 
emotion.  I  hope  the  Lord  will  enable  you  to  persevere,  and  that, 
"  being  planted  in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  you  will  flourish  in  the  courts 
of  your  God,  and  bring  forth  fruit  even  to  old  age."  Be  sober,  be 
vigilant ;  watch  closely  over  your  own  hearts,  and  be  much  in  earnest 
supplication  to  the  Fountain  of  grace.  Bless  God,  for  having  inclined 
your  hearts  to  seek  him ;  and  doubt  not  that  he  will  most  graciously 
afford  all  the  succour  necessary  to  enable  you  to  finish  your  course 
with  joy. 

That  you  may  very  greatly  profit  by  the  means  of  grace  with  which 
you  are  favoured,  and  become  the  joy  of  your  parents,  the  hope  of  your 
minister,  and  great  examples  of  pure  and  undefiled  religion,  is  the 
earnest  prayer  of, 

My  dear  young  Friends, 

Your  affectionate  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


24a  LETTERS, 

XXXIX. 

EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  THE  REV.  W.  BUTTON. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Oct.  25,  1813. 

I  have  taken  into  consideration  the  proposal  you  have  made.  I  know 
not  what  to  say  to  it.  If  I  shall  part  with  the  copyriglit  of  the  little 
tracts,  it  may  be,  possibly,  an  injury  to  my  family,  and  put  it  out  of 
tlieir  power  to  publish  a  complete  edition.  Your  proposal  is  very 
handsome  ;  but  this  is  one  of  my  objections  to  it.  Another  is,  it  is  so 
long  since  the  tracts  made  their  appearance,  and  several  so  short,  and 
their  subjects  so  miscellaneous,  that  I  am  afraid  it  will  have  an  osten- 
tatious appearance.  I  hate  the  appearance  of  vanity  :  I  have  so  much 
of  it  in  my  heart,  that  I  am  ashamed  it  should  display  itself  to  the  eyes 
of  the  world.  As  to  my  sermon,  I  am  doing  something  to  it  at  intervals. 
I  have,  indeed,  nearly  written  it  out  in  the  rough,  but  I  am  so  much 
disgusted  with  it,  as  usual,  that  I  can  by  no  means  let  it  appear,  unless 
it  is  in  my  power  greatly  to  improve  it.* 


XL. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS,  CLAPHAM. 

ON  OCCASION  OF  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  OWN  SON. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Feb.  28,  1814. 

I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  and  consolatory  letter, 
replete  with  those  topics  whence  alone  true  consolation  can  be  deduced. 
The  stroke  has  been  very  severely  felt  by  us  both,  but  certainly  most 
by  dear  Mrs.  Hall.  She  was  dotingly  fond  of  our  lovely  boy.  For 
my  own  part,  I  was  not  at  all  aware  my  affection  for  him  was  so  strong 
imtil  he  was  removed  from  us  ;  my  anguish  was  then  great.  It  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  felt  more  on  this  occasion  than  I  should  at  the  loss  of 
either  of  my  others.  This  feeling,  I  suspect,  was  delusive,  and  arises 
from  our  being  incapable  of  estimating  the  strength  of  our  attachment 
to  any  object  till  it  is  removed.  I  was  disappointed  in  his  being  a  bov; 
for,  frecolleciing]  my  own  extreme  and  ])ortentous  wickedness,  I  fancied 
there  was  somelhing  in  the  constitution  of  boys  peculiarly  tending  to 
vice,  and  adverse  to  their  spiritual  interests.  I  had  also  remarked  that 
females  seemed  much  more  susceptible  of  religious  impressions  than 

*  Tlkc  sermon  here  alluded  to  was  never  publislieJ. 


LETTERS.  249 

men.  On  these  accounts  I  trembled  for  his  salvation,  and  did  not  feel 
that  gratitude  for  the  blessing  vouchsafed  me  which  I  ought.  I  suspect 
I  greatly  displeased  God  by  my  distrust  of  his  goodness,  and  that  he 
saw  it  meet  to  adopt  this  method  of  chastising  me.  May  it  be  sancti- 
fied as  a  means  of  making  me  humble,  heavenly,  and  submissive.  It 
is  a  very  solemn  consideration,  that  a  part  of  myself  is  in  eternity ;  in 
the  presence,  I  trust,  of  the  Saviour.  How  awful  will  it  be,  should 
the  branch  be  saved  and  the  stock  perish ! 

Pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  this  may  not  be  the  case  ;  but  that 
I  may  be  truly  sanctified,  and  permitted  to  walk  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord,  and  in  the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Mrs.  Hall  has  been  very  ill,  occasioned  in  a  good  measure  by  the 
shock  she  has  received,  but  is  better.  She  is  looking  forward,  with 
considerable  anxiety,  to  her  confinement,  which  she  expects  in  less 
than  three  months.  She  is  so  extremely  weak  and  delicate,  that  I  have 
very  painful  apprehensions  res^pecting  the  issue.  My  wish  and  endea- 
vour is  to  leave  her,  myself,  and  my  dear  children,  in  the  hands  of  God. 
But  how  dilheult  it  is  to  do  so  !  Let  me,  once  more,  entreat  an  interest 
in  your  prayers. 


XLI. 

TO  THE  REV.  W.  BUTTON. 


My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Teh.  3,  1815. 

I  am  much  concerned  to  hear  of  your  disorder  in  your  eyes  :  it  is, 
indeed,  a  great  affliction,  and  demands  die  exercise  of  much  submission 
to  the  wise  Disposer  of  all  events.  I  am  afraid  it  has  had,  and  will 
have,  a  great  effect  in  depressing  your  spirits.  Remember,  my  dear 
brother,  the  Lord  means  to  do  you  good  by  all  his  seA'eral  dispensations. 
He  has  already  given  you  his  Son ;  and  how  "  shall  he  not  with  him 
freely  give  you  all  things  ?"  He  has  conferred  upon  you  spiritual  dis- 
cernment and  heavenly  light :  how  infinitely  more  important  than  the 
"  light  of  the  body,"  which  in  all  eyes  must  soon  be  darkened  !  I  hope, 
however,  if  it  is  a  cataract,  you  may  get  relief;  that  is  a  disease  which, 
I  understand,  has  frequently  been  cured.  Say,  then,  my  dear  friend, 
with  David,  "AVhy  art  thou  thus  disquieted  within  me?  I  shall  yet  praise 
him  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance,  and  my  God."  It  will  be,  and 
has  been,  my  habitual  prayer  that  you  may  be  strengthened,  comforted, 
and  relieved. 

With  respect  to  the  reviewing  Mr. 's  sermon,  I  must  be  excused. 

I  have  entirely  done  with  reviewing  :  it  is  an  occupation,  of  all  others, 
I  dislike,  and  shall  entirely  give  it  up.  If  you  Avish  me  to  publish, 
you  sliould  never  wish  me  to  review ;  for  you  are  not  aware  what  a 
serious  interruption  it  is.     I  compose  very  slowly  ;  and  what  I  have 


250  LETTERS. 

written  in  the  Review  has  been  a  very  great  interruption.     I  have  read 

Mr. 's  sermon  with  much  pleasure  ;  it  is  judicious,  serious,  and 

affecting:    but   I    am  well  aware    how  extravagantly  his  friends  at 

have  always  overrated  his  talents  ;  and  were  I  to  review,  and 

express  myself  in  such  terms  only  as  the  occasion  would  justify,  I 
should  mortify,  instead  of  gratify.  In  truth,  reviewing  at  the  re- 
quest of  particular  friends  is  a  snare  for  the  conscience.  I  never 
wished  any  person  to  review  for  me. 


XLII. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLETCHER  OF  BLACKBURN, 

NOW  OF  STEPNEY. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Feb.  21,  1815. 

I  duly  received  the  five-pound  bill  which  your  friend  has  been  so 
kind  as  to  appropriate  to  the  Baptist  Mission.  He  maj'  depend  upon 
its  being  faithfully  applied  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  intended ;  and 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  thank  him  in  my  name  for  it. 

I  most  sincerely  beg  your  pardon  for  not  having  replied  to  your  kind 
letter :  the  truth  is,  not  sitting  down  to  reply  to  it  immediately,  the  im- 
pression I  had  upon  my  mind  afterward  was,  that  you  did  not  wish  or 
expect  me  to  reply.  I  recollected  only  that  it  contained  a  pretty 
pressing  remonstrance  with  me  for  not  publishing  more ;  a  subject  on 
which  I  have  ol'ten  been  urged,  much  to  my  concern  and  vexation.  It 
pains  me,  my  dear  sir,  to  be  condemned  and  reproached  upon  a  subject 
which  is  sometimes  a  source  of  more  internal  uneasiness  than  is  gene- 
rally supposed.  I  am  far  from  being  satisfied  with  my  own  conduct 
in  this  particular,  but  know  not  how  to  remedy  it.  It  is  not  indolence, 
I  can  truly  say,  which  prevents  me  ;  but  a  certain  fastidiousness  and 
difficulty  of  being  pleased,  which  really  rises  to  the  magnitude  of  a 
mental  disease. 

I  feel  myself,  in  all  my  performances,  so  short  of  that  standard 
which  I  have  formed  in  my  own  mind,  that  I  can  truly  say  I  contem- 
plate my  little  productions  with  a  kind  of  liorror.  If  I  could  dismiss 
this  feeling,  I  should  much  oftencr  try  tlie  patience  of  the  public.  That 
what  I  have  written  meets  with  your  approbation  cannot  fail  to  encour- 
age me  ;  it  is  "  laudari  a  viro  laudato ;"  but  permit  me  to  express  my 
surprise  that  you  should  express  yourself  in  terms  so  extremely 
disproportioned  to  my  merits. 

I  shall  be  happy  to  hear  from  you,  whenever  you  are  disposed  to 
write ;  and  remain, 

Dear  Sir,  with  high  esteem, 

Your  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  251 


XLIIl. 

TO  THE  REY.  DR.  FLETCHER. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  May  26,  1815. 

With  respect  to  Mr.  Fuller's  last  moments,  I  have  very  little  to 
communicate.  His  complaint  was  of  a  nature  that  left  him  very  little 
opportunity  of  conversing  with  ease  and  composure.  He  was  oppressed 
with  a  prodigious  load  of  corporeal  misery.  He  said,  I  believe,  more 
than  once,  "  All  misery  centres  in  me,  and  I  cannot  die."  In  a  letter 
he  dictated  to  Dr.  Ryland  a  few  days  belbre  his  death,  he  expressed 
himself  thus  : — "  My  state  of  mind  is,  in  one  word,  tins ;  no  despond- 
ency, no  raptures."  He  said  to  his  friends,  he  felt  that  trust  in  Christ, 
that  he  could  plunge  into  eternity.  He  was  a  prodigious  sufl'erer 
during  his  last  illness.  He  said  to  Dr.  Ryland,  "  I  have  written 
much,  and  said  much,  against  the  abuse  of  the  doctrine  of  grace ; 
but  that  doctrine  is  all  my  support  in  the  prospect  of  eternity.  I 
have  no  hope  of  being  saved,  but  through  the  free  sovereign  grace 
of  God,  flowing  through  the  atonement  of  Christ."  I  recollect  nothing 
very  particular  respecting  his  first  introduction  into  the  ministry.  Dr. 
Ryland  will,  I  believe,  compile  a  pretty  extensive  memoir  of  him.  He 
has  been  strongly  urged  so  to  do.  He  was  in  many  respects  the  most 
memorable  man  it  has  ever  been  my  happiness  to  know ;  and  his  loss 
wUl  be  deplored  as  irreparable.  He  possessed  good  sense  in  a  more 
perfect  degree  than  any  person  I  ever  knew,  embraced  every  object 
with  a  clearness,  facility,  and  precision  almost  peculiar  to  himself. 
He  certainly  possessed  genius  in  a  very  high  degree ;  but  it  was  more 
a  modification  of  intellect  than  a  vigour  of  imagination ;  though  in  the 
latter  faculty  he  was  not  defective.  I  loved  and  esteemed  him  more 
than  I  can  express  ;  and  how  his  loss  can  be  supplied  in  tiie  mission 
I  am  at  an  utter  loss  to  conjecture.  But  God  is  all-sutBcient.  Let 
me  entreat  your  prayers  to  God  that  he  would  provide.  I  feel  much 
gratified  at  your  intention  of  improving  the  death  of  our  most  lamented 
and  venerable  friend.  Wishing  you  much  of  the  blessing  of  God  in 
your  important  engagements,  and  begging  to  be  remembered  to  Mrs. 
F.,  though  unknown, 

I  remain,  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


252  LETTERS. 

XLIV. 

TO  DR.  RYLAND. 

My  dear  Brother,  Leicester,  June  17,  1815. 

I  am  sorry  you  should  continue  to  importune  me  about  thaL  wretched 
oration,  which  it  is  my  inialterablc  resolution  never  to  print.  It  was 
not  fit  to  be  delivered,  much  less  to  be  presented  from  the  press.  I 
may  be  mistaken  :  but  I  always  conceive  that  it  is  a  respect  due  to  the 
public,  whenever  we  appear  before  them,  to  do  our  best ;  and  not  to 
put  them  off  with  the  weakly  or  more  deformed  part  of  our  intellectual 
progeny.  I  laboured  under  an  extreme  depression  of  spirits ;  I  was 
perplexed,  between  an  imperfect  written  composition,  a  sort  of  funeral 
sermon  delivered  the  last  Sunday,  and  an  attempt  at  extempore  speak- 
ing. It  would  neitlier  be  respectful  to  Mr.  Fuller  nor  to  the  public, 
nor  justice  to  myself,  to  publish  such  a  wretched  piece  of  inanity.  In 
delivering  the  oration  at  all,  I  performed  a  service  for  which  scarce 
any  money  would  have  bribed  me ;  but  to  have  the  publication  of  it 
demanded,  under  pain  of  the  displeasure  of  Mr.  Fuller's  friends,  is 
intrenching  rather  too  much  upon  the  independence  of  private  judgment. 
Do  not  understand  me,  my  dear  sir,  as  at  all  displeased  with  you  for 
urging  tlie  matter :  I  am  speaking  only  upon  the  supposition  that  Mr. 
Fuller's  family  or  friends  demand  the  publication. 

As  you  have  intimated  a  willingness  to  publish  memoirs,  I  would 
strongly  recommend  publishing  neither  the  sermon  nor  the  oration. 
They  are  utterly  unnecessary  if  the  memoirs  are  published ;  not  only 
so,  but  they  would  stand  in  each  other's  way.  AVhcn  a  biography  is 
promised,  it  is  not,  I  think,  usual  for  the  same  person  to  publish  a 
funeral  sermon  previously.  It  is  slaking  the  public  curiosity  prema- 
turely. If  you  persist  in  your  intention  of  publishing  memoirs,  I  should 
feel  no  objection  to  taking  an  opportunity  of  testifying  my  profound 
esteem  and  friendship  for  dear  Mr.  Fuller,  in  some  form  which  you 
may  deem  most  cligit)le ;  but  let  me,  my  dear  sir,  hear  no  more  of  the 
oration.     My  resolution  is  unalterable  upon  that  subject. 

*  *  *  As  far  as  my  acquaintance  with  sober 

Calvinists  extends,  they  do  not  object  to  the  doctrine  of  disinterested 
love,  so  much  as  to  the  naked  and  abstracted  form  in  which  soine  of 
the  American  divines  have  presented  it.  A  portion  of  love  to  God, 
resulting  from  a  spiritual  perception  of  his  intrinsic  beauty,  enters,  I 
have  no  doubt,  into  the  essence  of  true  religion ;  but  some  of  the 
Americans  have  given  a  prominence  to  this  subject,  as  appears  to  me, 
beyond  what  exists  in  Scripture. 

My  work  on  mixed  comnumion  will  be  out,  I  trust,  in  about  a  fort- 
night. It  is  written,  I  hope,  in  a  Christian  spirit,  and  is  calculated  to 
do  good  rather  than  harm.     I  am  most  perfectly  convinced  that  the 


LETTERS.  253 

Baptist  sentiments  will  never  prevail  upon  the  opposite  system.     My 
sincere  wish  is,  that  truth  and  candour  may  be  promoted  in  the  church. 

I  remain, 
Your  affectionate  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


XLV. 

TO  MR.  JOSIAH  CONDER. 


Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Sept.  1815. 

I  owe  you  many  apologies  for  not  sooner  noticing  the  letter  you 
were  so  good  as  to  address  to  me  a  considerable  time  since.  The 
only  reason  I  can  plead  for  my  silence  is,  the  pain  it  necessarilj'  gives 
me  to  put  a  negative  upon  wishes  warmly  and,  as  I  believe,  sincerely 
expressed.  After  having  so  frequently  stated  my  repugnance  to  writing 
reviews,  I  feel  myself  at  an  utter  loss  to  express  the  same  sentiment 
in  terms  more  strong  or  more  efficacious.  There  is  no  kind  of  literary 
exertion  to  which  I  have  an  equal  aversion,  by  many  degrees ;  and, 
were  such  things  determined  by  choice,  it  is  my  deliberate  opinion  I 
should  prefer  going  out  of  the  world  by  any  tolerable  mode  of  death, 
rather  than  incur  the  necessity  of  M'riting  three  or  four  articles  in  a 
year.  I  must  therefore  beg  and  entreat  I  may  not  be  urged  again 
upon  a  subject  so  ineffably  repugnant  to  all  the  sentiments  of  my  heart. 

From  what  I  have  seen  of  the  recent  execution  of  the  work  especially, 
I  am  convinced  my  assistance  is  not  in  the  least  needed.  It  is,  I 
believe,  growing  daily  in  reputation,  and  I  hope  in  circulation ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that,  r.nder  your  skilful  management,  and  that  of 
your  coadjutors,  its  reputation  will  not  only  be  sustained,  but  will  be 
sutBcienl  to  engage  far  superior  assistance  to  mine.  I  admire  the 
Bible  Society  inexpressibly  :  but  how  is  it  possible  to  say  any  thing 
in  its  praise  or  vindication,  which  has  not  been  said  a  thousand  times  ; 
or  where  would  be  the  safety  of  depicting  in  their  true  colours,  the 
character  and  conduct  of  that  whited  sepulchre  ?  Besides,  let  me  add, 
my  dear  sir,  that  my  other  engagements  are  such,  that  the  business 
of  reviewing  is  incompatible  with  them,  unless  I  were  to  form  the 
resolution  of  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  press,  or  others  for  me.  I 
feel  myself  much  honoured  by  the  expression  of  your  kind  regard,  and 
beg  leave  to  assure  you  that  I  am,  with  the  truest  esteem. 

Your  sincere  Friend, 

And  obedient  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 


254  LETTERS. 

XLVI. 

TO  THE  REV.  W.  CHAPLIN,  BISHOP  STORTFORD. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Mo7iday,  Sept.  22,  1815. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  neglect  in  not  replying  to  your  very 
kind  invitation.  I  designed  fully  to  reply  to  it  without  delay  ;  but  one 
circumstance  occurred  after  another,  in  that  busy  scene,  to  occasion 
delay  until  it  was  too  late.  It  would  have  given  me,  I  flatter  myself, 
at  least  as  much  pleasure  as  to  yourself,  to  have  proceeded  to  Stort- 
ford,  and  spent  a  day  or  two  there.  I  shall  ever  retain  a  lively  and 
grateful  impression  of  the  happy  hours  I  have  passed  at  Stortford,  and 
of  the  distinguished  politeness  and  attention  on  your  part,  which  have 
chiefly  contributed  to  render  them  so.  But  the  fact  is,  while  I  am  at 
Cambridge,  the  present  claimants  upon  my  time  are  so  numerous, 
that,  unless  I  could  considerably  protract  my  stay,  I  find  it  next  to 
impossible  to  make  excursions  to  any  considerable  distance. 

Providence  has  so  disposed  the  bounds  of  our  liabitation,  as  to  pre- 
clude that  intercourse  which  I  can  truly  say  I  frequently  recall,  but 
never  without  emotions  of  warm  affection  and  gratitude.  Nothing  but 
death  will  efface  from  my  recollection  and  heart  the  manly  sense,  the 
dignified  politeness,  and  Christian  piety  Avhich  have  so  frequently 
rendered  your  conversation  so  delightful.  I  rejoice  to  hear  of  your 
health,  and  prosperity,  and  usefulness ;  and  that  dear  Mrs.  Chaplin  is 
spared  to  you.  I  bless  God,  that  though  we  are  separate  for  a  time 
in  the  flesh,  we  are,  I  trust,  joined  in  the  Spirit,  and  permitted  to  make 
mention  of  each  other  in  our  prayers  ;  and  shall  shortly,  1  humbly 
hope,  be  allowed  to  spend  an  eternity  together.  I  often  think  with 
much  emotion  of  our  dear  and  venerable  friend  and  father,  Mr.  Palmer. 
I  feel  that  I  have  lost  a  rock  in  him  :  the  loss  of  no  man  in  that  period 
of  life  would  have  affected  me  in  any  proportionable  degree.  But, 
alas  !  I  shall  probably  soon  follow  him  ;  and  it  becomes  us,  it  becomes 
me  at  least  at  my  age,  to  make  it  my  great  concern  that  my  own 
death  may  be  holy.  Inter  nos,  I  could  have  wished  the  character  of 
our  dear  friend  by  Mr.  Toller  had  been  a  little  heightened  and  warmer 
coloured.  It  is  like  a  portrait  that  is  not  very  defective  in  likeness, 
but  has  lain  long  in  a  damp  place.  There  is  one  thing  in  your  letter 
which  gives  me  sincere  pleasure,  which  is,  that  you  have  sometimes 
thought  of  favouring  me  with  a  visit  at  Leicester.  Let  it  not  be  one 
of  those  schemes  thai  die  in  thinking  of.  We  have  a  spare  bed,  and 
such  accommodations  as  are  indeed  very  inadequate  to  what  you  are 
accustomed  to,  but  such  as  I  flatter  myself  you  will  put  up  with.  Be 
assured,  there  is  no  person  it  would  give  me  more  pleasure  to  see 
under  my  roof  than  Mr.  Chaplin,  accompanied  with  Mrs.  C.  We 
will  divide  the  labour  of  the  Sabbath. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with  high  esteem. 

Yours  most  afiectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  255 

XLVIL 

TO  DR.  RYLAND. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Oct.  25,  1815. 

I  have  ■  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  of  returning  your  manu- 
script by  Mr.  James.  I  am  much  pleased  with  it,  as  far  as  it  has 
proceeded,  and,  judging  from  this  specimen,  have  no  doubt  it  will  give 
satisfaction  to  the  friends  of  our  invaluable  deceased  brother,  as  well 
as  the  religious  public  at  large.  I  found  the  whole  narrative  respect- 
ing his  child  and  his  first  wife  exceedingly  aflecting  and  interesting.  I 
thiidi.  you  have  done  right  in  retaining  it,  as  it  sets  his  domestic  character 
in  a  most  pleasing  light.  It  shows  how  perfectly  compatible  is  great  ten- 
derness of  heart  and  an  attention  to  minuter  duties,  with  great  powers 
of  intellect  and  an  ardent  pursuit  of  great  objects.  Biographers  have 
usually  been  too  sparing  of  such  details.  How  delighted  should  we 
have  been  with  such  an  exhibition  of  the  characters  of  Edwards,  Howe, 

and  other  illustrious  Christian  heroes  !     has  written  to  Mrs.  B., 

earnestly  importuning  me  to  review  his  Life  of  Mr.  Fuller,  which  is 
completed  to  the  last  chapter.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  I  absolutely 
declined,  informing  him  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  do  it,  without 
a  violation  of  honour  and  consistency.  I  suppose  his  book  will  be 
out  shortly.  I  hope  and  believe,  however,  it  will  not  prevent  your 
work  from  obtaining  a  considerable  circulation.  Though  I  highly  dis- 
approve of 's  publication,  ii  is  not  impossible  that  posterity  may 

obtain  a  juster  idea  of  the  character  of  our  excellent  friend  by  com- 
paring them,  than  by  either  of  them  separately.  I  am  afraid  my  dear 
brother  will  be  as  sparing  of  his  shades  as  he  of  his  lights.  Though 
his  [Mr.  Fuller's]  faults  were  trivial  indeed  compared  to  his  excel- 
lences, yet  they  were  in  my  view  very  apparent ;  and,  as  is  generally 
the  case  in  very  forcible  characters,  they  possessed,  a  certain  promi- 
nence :  on  the  whole,  however,  it  will  be  long  before  we  look  on  such 
a  iiian. 


XLVIII. 

EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  THE  REV.  W.  BUTTON. 

Leicester,  Jan.  1816. 
When  you  see  Mr.  Ivimey,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  give  my  kind 
respects  to  him,  and  thanks  to  him  for  his  kind  attention,  and  that  of 
his  fellow-editors.  Tell  him  I  shall  take  his  suggestion  into  serious 
consideraiion  ;  but  whether  I  shall  contribute  to  the  [magazine]  or  not, 
I  cannot  say.     I  never  yet  felt  the  smallest  inclination  to  read  or  to 


256  LETTERS. 

write  in  these  sorts  of  miscellanies.  With  respect  to  the  widows, 
anxious  as  I  should  be  to  promote  their  welfare,  I  have  not  the  pre- 
sumption to  imagine  my  writing  would  be  of  any  material  benefit.  To 
the  whole  class  of  publications,  reviews,  magazines,  6ic.,  I  avow  my- 
self a  total  alien  and  a  stranger. 


XLIX. 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  GRINFIELD,  CLIFTON. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Feb.  5,  1816. 

With  respect  to  the  salvability  of  Socinians,  for  myself  I  feel  no 
hesitation.  Their  state  appears  to  be  clearly  decided  by  such  Scrip- 
tures as  these :  "  He  that  scrth  the  Son,  and  helievctk  on  him,  shall 
have  everlasting  life  ;"  "He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life,  and  he  that 
hath  not  the  Son  hath  not  life."  How  can  they  be  said  to  have  the 
Son,  who  reject  him  in  his  distinguishing,  his  essential  character,  as 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  ;  and  how  can  he  be  a  propitiation  for  sin 
to  them  who  have  no  faith  in  his  blood  1  When  it  is  asserted  that  we 
are  justilied  by  faith,  I  can  understand  it  in  no  other  sense  than  that 
we  are  justified  by  a  penitential  reliance  on  his  blood  and  righteous- 
ness. In  rejecting  the  most  fundainental  doctrine  of  the  gospel,  the 
vicarious  sacrifice  of  Christ,  they  appear  to  me  to  deny  the  very  es- 
sence of  Christianity.  Their  system  is  naturalism,  not  the  evangelical 
system ;  and  therefore,  much  as  I  esteem  many  individuals  among 
them,  I  feel  myself  necessitated  to  look  upon  them  in  the  same  state, 
with  respect  to  salvation,  as  professed  infidels. 

I  am  concerned,  truly  concerned,  to  find  you  speaking  in  terms  so 
extremely  disproportioned  to  my  merits.  While  I  feel  myself  gratified 
by  the  esteem  of  the  pious  and  the  able,  praise  so  intemperate,  I  must 
confess,  brings  to  my  mind  most  forcibly  the  mortifying  recollection 
of  my  own  deficiencies. 

I  remain,  with  much  esteem. 

Your  obliged  Friend  and  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  257 


TO  DR.  RYLAND. 

Leicester,  April  10,  1816. 
My  esteem  for  your  character  is  such,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  differ  from  you  in  opinion,  or  decUne  complying  with  your  wishes 
without  considerable  pain.  I  feel  that  pain  on  the  present  occasion. 
I  am  truly  concerned  to  find  your  purpose  is  to  form  an  auxiliary  so- 
ciety at  Bristol,  to  have  public  days,  &c.  &c. ;  being  deeply  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  that  axiom  of  our  Lord's,  that  "  the  kingdom  of  God 
cometh  not  with  observation  ;"  or,  as  Campbell  translates  it,  "  is  not 
ushered  in  with  parade."  The  Baptist  Society  has  prospered  abun- 
dantly, with  the  blessing  of  God,  under  a  different  management;  and 
the  unobtrusive  modesty  of  its  operations  has  been  one  of  its  strongest 
recommendations.  That  society  has  done  much,  and  said  little  ;  it  has 
shown  itself  in  its  effects,  not  in  its  preparations.  I  am  much  grieved 
that  it  is  about  to  relinquish  that  praise,  and  to  vie  with  [others]  in  the 
noise  and  ostentation  of  its  proceedings.  It  reminds  me  of  the  fable 
of  the  frog  and  the  ox.  ***** 

**  ******, 

*  *  Why  should  we  at  last  imitate  what  we  have 

so  long  condemned  ?  Why  should  we  attempt  a  competition  in  a  point 
of  view  in  which  we  are  sure  to  appear  to  a  disadvantage  ?  The  ex- 
pense of  collecting  ministers  from  remote  places  is  not  small ;  and, 
supposing  their  expenses  to  be  borne  out  of  the  public  fund  (and  the 
situation  of  few  allows  them  to  travel  at  their  own  expense),  it  will,  I 
fear,  more  than  counterbalance  the  pecuniary  advantages  resulting 
from  the  efforts  at  publicity.  I  have  serious  apprehensions  that  the 
ostentatious  spirit  which  is  fast  pervading  all  denominations  of  Chris- 
tians, in  the  present  times,  in  the  concerns  of  religion,  will  draw  down 
the  frown  of  the  Great  Head  of  the  church,  whose  distinguishing 
characteristic  was  humility.  He  did  "not  strive,  nor  cry,  nor  cause 
his  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  street."  I  am  persuaded  nothing  can  be  more 
opposite  to  your  own  disposition  than  such  a  mode  of  proceeding,  on  which 
account  I  am  the  more  surprised  you  should  be  induced  to  lend  it  your 
sanction.  There  appears  to  me  a  very  simple  and  efficacious  mode 
of  supporting  the  Baptist  mission,  without  noisy  appeals  to  the  public. 
Let  every  Baptist  minister  make  an  annual  collection  in  his  congrega- 
tion, and  apply  to  his  more  opulent  members  and  hearers  besides, 
for  their  annual  subscriptions  ;  and  all  the  money  will  be  raised  which 
ought  to  be  raised  by  our  denomination.  With  respect  to  others,  the 
success  of  the  mission,  attested  by  its  periodical  reports,  will  not  fail 
to  make  the  right  impression.  The  best  auxiliary  societies,  in  my 
humble  opinion,  that  can  be  devised,  are  already  prepared  to  our  hands 
in  regular  organized  churches,  and  in  the  certainty  of  meeting  some 
hundreds  of  professing  Christians  every  Sabbath-day.  I  hope,  my 
Vol.  IIL— R 


258  LETTERS. 

dear  brother,  you  will  not  be  offended  with  the  freedom  of  these  re- 
marks. Were  I  to  consult  my  inclinations,  an  excursion,  in  the  plea- 
sant month  of  July,  to  Bristol  and  to  Wales  would  be  highly  gratify- 
ing ;  but,  from  the  consideration  I  have  suggested,  I  must  beg  leave 
absolutely  to  decline  your  kind  invitation.  I  do  extremely  deprecate 
the  precedent  about  to  be  set  at  Bristol. 

Your  advice  respecting  my  intended  publication  came  too  late.  It 
was  already  in  the  press.  I  hope  it  will  do  no  harm,  if  it  does  no 
good.  I  think  the  question  of  very  considerable  importance,  and  the 
abetters  of  free  communion  have  been  too  languid  in  their  exertions. 
I  intend,  my  dear  sir,  no  personal  reflection,  but  mention  it  as  a  gene- 
ral remark. 


LI. 

TO  DR.  RYLAND. 

Leicester,  May  27,  1816. 

*  *  *  I  read  the  letters  of  Mr.  Fuller  on  Robinsonianism, 
with  much  delight  and  approbation  on  the  wliole;  but  1  think  he  has, 
as  he  was  rather  prone,  carried  the  matter  too  far.  For  my  part,  I 
am  far  from  believing  the  innocence  of  mental  error  on  the  one  hand, 
or  the  sinfulness  of  every  particular  error  on  the  other.  I  suspect 
that  there  are  religious  mistakes,  which  result  from  the  circumstances 
and  the  imperfections  of  the  present  state,  ibr  which  many  good  [men] 
will  never  be  called  to  account ;  though  I  am  far  from  supposing  this 
extends  to  a  denial  of  the  great  distinguishing  principles  of  the  gospel. 
On  this  occasion  I  am  disposed  to  adopt  the  old  adage.  In  medio  tutis- 
simus  ibis.  The  letters  are*  admirable  for  their  piety,  and  their  mas- 
culine vein  of  reasoning. 

With  respect  to  Scotland,  I  must  absolutely  decline  it.  I  have  been 
already  five  weeks  absent  from  my  pulpit  on  account  of  illness  ;  and 
it  would  be  extremely  injurious  to  my  congregation  to  incur  so  long 
an  additional  absence.  In  truth,  I  am  little  fitted  for  distant  excursions, 
on  account  of  my  liability  to  be  attacked  with  such  violent  pain,  which 
renders  me  a  burden  to  myself  and  to  all  about  me. 


LETTERS.  259 


LII. 

TO  DR.  RYLAND.     (extract.) 

June  19,  1816. 
*  *  *  I  sympathize  most  sincerely  in  the  joy  you  must  feel, 
as  a  parent,  from  the  baptism  of  your  daughter.  I  hope  and  pray  you 
will  ultimately  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  all  your  children  walking 
in  the  truth.  I  already  begin  to  feel  the  spiritual  interests  of  my  dear 
children  a  frequent  source  of  painful  solicitude.  Let  me  beg  an  in- 
terest in  your  prayers  for  their  conversion. 


LIII. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS. 

My  dear  Friend  Phillips,  Leicester,  May  12,  1816. 

It  is  long,  very  long,  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  or  hearing 
from  you.  For  the  latter  I  can  account,  in  some  measure,  from  the 
displeasure  you  conceived  at  my  treatment  of  your  servant,  who,  at 
your  request,  called  upon  me  in  the  way  to  Harborough.  I  do  freely 
confess  myself  to  have  been  much  to  blame  in  that  particular.  My 
conduct  was  not  such  as  ought  to  have  been  shown  to  anyone ;  much 
less  to  a  domestic  of  yours,  who  called,  at  your  request,  to  make  friendly 
inquiries  respecting  my  welfare.  I  sincerely  beg  your  pardon,  and 
also  the  pardon  of  the  young  woman,  for  that  impropriety.  In  justice 
to  myself,  I  must  tell  you  how  I  was  situated.  When  your  servant 
called  I  was  engaged  in  secret  prayer,  the  door  made  fast.  My  ser- 
vant girl  made  a  violent  clamour  at  the  door  :  I  kept  silence,  intend- 
ing her  to  understand  that  it  was  my  wish  not  to  be  interrupted  at  that 
lime.  She  continued,  however,  to  knock  at  the  door,  as  though  she 
was  determined  to  break  it  down.  At  length,  I  was  under  the  neces- 
sity, fearing  some  accident,  to  open  it ;  and  being  much  irritated  at  the 
unwelcome  interruption,  and  at  the  rude  carriage  of  my  servant,  when 
I  came  to  understand  the  errand  on  which  the  young  woman  came,  I 
could  not  surmount  my  agitation  sufficiently  to  give  her  the  reception  I 
ought.  I  was  visibly  pettish  and  chagrined.  Such  is  the  true  state 
of  the  case ;  and  I  may  observe,  as  some  apology  for  me,  that  some- 
times the  incessant  interruptions  I  meet  with,  by  people  calling  from  a 
distance,  is  such,  especially  in  summer,  as  to  leave  no  time  at  all. 
sometimes  not  half  an  hour  a  day,  that  I  can  call  my  own.  This 
operating  upon  a  mind  fond  of  retirement  to  an  excess,  sometimes 
almost  drives  me  to  distraction.  The  irritation  and  agitation  it  some- 
times produces  is  inconceivable.     I  do  most  devoutly  wish  my  friend.5 

R2 


260  LETTERS. 

would  never  give  any  commission  to  strangers  to  call  upon  me.  The 
sight  of  strangers,  especially  when  I  cannot  leave  them  when  I  please, 
is  frequently  distressing  to  me  in  a  very  [high]  degree.  But,  though  I 
mention  these  circumstances  as  an  apology,  I  am  far  from  meaning  to 
justify  myself.  I  am  aware  of  the  extreme  impropriety  of  indulging 
that  irritability  of  temper,  and  am  truly  concerned  at  the  instance  of 
it  to  which  I  liave  adverted.  Let  me  indulge  the  hope,  my  dear  friend, 
that  this  disagreeable  circumstance  will  not  put  a  period  to  that  friend- 
ship which  I  have  always  so  highly  esteemed,  and  which  has  formed 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  solace  of  my  life.  I  have  loved  you 
ever  since  I  knew  you ;  and  my  attachment  has  increased  exactly  in 
proportion  to  my  opportunities  of  acquainting  myself  with  your  char- 
acter. I  hope  you  will  forget  and  overlook  this  unpleasant  business, 
and  permit  me  again  to  class  you  among  my  dearest  friends. 


LIV. 

TO  DR.  GREGORY. 

ON   THE   DEATH   OF   MR.    BOSWELL   BRANDON   BEDDOME. 

My  very  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Nov.  2,  1816. 

I  have  just  received  your  letter,  and  cannot  lose  a  moment  in  ex- 
pressing the  deep  sympathy  I  take  in  the  affliction  arising  from  the 
melancholy  tidings  it  announces.  Alas !  my  dear  friend  Boswell 
Beddome  !  My  eyes  will  see  thee  no  more  !  The  place  which  once 
knew  thee  shall  know  thee  no  more  !  How  many  delightful  hours  have 
I  spent  in  thy  society — hours  never  more  to  return  !  That  countenance, 
beaming  whh  benevolence  and  friendship,  will  be  beheld  no  more  until 
the  resurrection  morn,  when  it  will  rise  to  shine  radiant  with  immortal 
brightness  and  beauty.  How  thick  and  solemn  the  vicissitudes  of  death 
and  calamity  in  that  amiable  and  respectable  family,  the  Beddomes  ! 
What  awful  reverses  and  catastrophes  !  Surely  tlieir  hea\enly  Father 
must  have  destined  them  to  some  distinguished  station  in  the  eternal 
edifice,  with  whom  he  has  taken  such  pains  in  hewing,  cutting,  and 
polishing.  The  dealings  of  God  towards  our  dear  Boswell  have  been 
at  once  severe  and  tender ;  and  never  perhaps  were  the  preparations 
of  mercy  to  be  traced  more  distinctly  than  in  the  events  which  have 
recently  befallen  him :  the  faculties  extinguished  for  a  while,  to  be 
restored ;  an  antedated  resurrection ;  as  though  God  had  determined 
to  recast  his  whole  nature  into  a  crucible,  previous  to  its  being  poured 
into  the  moidd  of  eternity.  I  have  been  delighted  to  hear,  from  various 
quarters.  And  particularly  from  Mr.  Alexander,  ot  the  sweet,  tranquil, 
and  devotional  state  of  his  mind  subsequent  to  his  first  attack ;  and 
had  flattered  myself  with  the  hope  of  life  being  protracted  to  a  distant 
period.     But  God's  ways  arc  not  as  our  ways ;  nor  liis  thoughts  as 


LETTERS.  201 

our  thoughts.  After  purifying  our  dear  friend  in  the  furnace  of  afflic- 
tion, he  judged  it  fit  to  cut  short  his  work  in  righteousness.  Be  assured, 
my  dear  sir,  I  deeply  sympathize  with  you,  and  dear  Mrs.  G.,  both  in 
your  sorrow  and  your  joy,  on  the  present  occasion.  You  have  to  sing 
of  mercy  and  of  judgment.  The  loss  of  such  a  parent  must  be  long 
and  deeply  regretted ;  but  there  is  so  much  to  console  and  to  elevate 
in  this  event,  taken  in  all  its  bearings,  that  the  tears  you  shed  partake 
of  a  tender  triumph.  Our  dear  friend  has  reached  the  goal,  and  gained 
the  prize,  which  we  are  still  doomed  to  pursue  with  anxiety  and  toiL 
May  we,  my  dear  friend,  be  quickened  in  our  progress  by  this  most 
impressive  event,  and  learn,  more  effectually  than  ever,  to  secure  the 
one  thing  needful. 

Your  company  at  Leicester,  and  that  of  Mrs.  G.,  would  afford  me 
the  most  exquisite  pleasure  :  pray  let  me  have  it  the  first  opportunity. 
My  health,  through  mercy,  and  that  of  my  family,  are  at  present  good  ; 
thougli  I  have  during  the  past  year  met  with  awful  mementoes  of  my 

latier  end. 

******** 

I  beg  to  be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  Mrs.  Gregory,  and 
every  branch  of  the  Beddome  family,  in  which  Mrs.  Hall  joins  me ; 
and  remain,  invariably, 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

Robert  Hall. 


LV. 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  LANGDON,  LEEDS. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  March  12,  1817. 

I  am  extremely  concerned  to  hear  of  the  ill  state  of  your  health, 
which  I  fear,  from  what  I  have  occasionally  heard,  has  been  declining 
for  some  time  :  it  is  my  earnest  prayer  and  hope  the  Lord  may  restore 
it,  and  spare  you  many  years,  for  the  good  of  your  family  and  of  the 
church.  It  is  a  great  mortification  to  me  that  I  am  situated  at  such  a 
distance  as  renders  it  impracticable  for  me  to  see  you  often  ;  but  I 
retain,  and  ever  shall  retain,  the  strongest  sentiments  of  friendship  and 
esteem,  and  the  remembrance  of  innumerable  acts  of  kindness  and 
attention  from  you  in  my  early  days.  Those  days  are  fled,  and  we 
are  both  now  far  nearer  to  eternity  than  then ;  both  I  hope  nearer  to 
consummate  blessedness.  For  yourself,  I  feel  a  full  persuasion  that 
your  removal  (may  it  be  at  a  distant  period  !)  will  be  unspeakable  gain. 

To  come  to  tlie  business  of  your  letter,  I  believe  I  am  expected  this 
year  at  Hull,  and  that  it  is  wished  to  collect  for  the  mission.  As  far 
as  I  can  judge,  it  will  probably  be  about  the  time  you  mention,  in 
August ;  but  this  remains  to  be  settled  with  Mr.  Birt,  from  whom  I 
have  not  yet  heard.  When  I  hear  from  him,  and  the  time  is  fixed,  I 
will  let  you  know ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  comply  with  your 


262  LETTERS. 

wishes,  by  taking  Leeds  in  my  way  home,  as  I  expect  to  proceed 
thither  from  Canibridse.  It  will  considerably  facilitate  my  executing 
this  plan,  if  voar  service  is  on  a  week-day,  as  1  fear  it  will  be  quite 
out  of  my  power  to  add  another  Sabbath  to  my  excursion.  It  will  give 
me  very  high  satisfaction  to  see  you  once  more  in  the  flesh,  if  it  be 
only  for  a  day  or  two ;  the  time,  I  am  afraid,  must  be  very  short. 

I  am  far  advanced  in  my  answer  to  Mr.  Kinghorn,  and  expect  it 
will  be  in  the  press  in  a  very  few  weeks.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  more 
hasty  performance  than  I  wish.  It  is  exactly  as  you  say :  there  is 
more  difficulty  in  disentangling  his  arguments  than  in  replying  to  them. 
He  is  unquestionably  a  clever  man.  I  hope,  however,  that  I  have 
succeeded  in  showing  the  utter  fallacy  of  the  far  greater  part  of  his 
reasoning ;  but  the  public  must  judge. 

I  desire  to  be  affectionately  remembered  to  Mrs.  Langdon,  and  remain, 
Your  most  alTectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


LVI. 

TO  DR.  RYLAND. 

Leicester,  August  8,  1817. 
*  *  *  You  are  the  best  judge,  but  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  perceive 
the  utility  of  having  all  the  missionary  sermons  preached  at  one  season. 
Such  a  method  of  procedure  makes  more  noise  and  parade  than  if  they 
were  preached  at  separate  times,  it  is  true  ;  and  this  is  probably  the 
chief  motive  for  preferring  it,  with  those  who  appear  studious  of  osten- 
tation in  religious  exertions :  but  to  a  person  of  your  disposition  I 
presume  it  would  rather  be  repulsive.  There  is  something  I  do  not 
like  in  these  perpetual  suggestions  of  Mr.  ,  respecting  the  defi- 
ciency of  your  collections  for  the  Baptist  Missions.  If  annual  collections 
are  made  in  each  congregation,  and  such  individuals  are  solicited  to 
subscribe  who  are  able  and  disposed,  what  can  with  propriety  be  done 
more  ?  This  perpetual  struggle  who  shall  get  most  money,  and  the 
theatrical  and  ahoininable  arts  exerted  to  procure  it,  prognosticate  ill 
to  the  real  interests  of  religion.  There  is  one  simple  and  eflectual 
mode,  in  my  opinion,  of  promoting  the  mission,  which  has  never  yet 
been  tried  on  any  extensive  scale ;  namely,  an  annual  collection  in 
every  Baptist  conirregation  which  is  attached  to  its  interests.  If  such  a 
measure  were  resolved  upon  in  your  association,  it  would  soon  spread  to 
others,  and  would  shortly  become  a  standing  practice  in  all  our  congre- 
gations ;  and  their  number  is  such,  that,  with  the  sums  which  would 
incidentally  fall  in  from  other  quarters,  the  pecuniary  resources  of  the 
society  would  be  as  great  as  we  ought  to  aspire  to.  As  to  collecting 
a  great  number  of  ministers  together,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
collection,  nothing  in  my  opinion  can  be  more  injudicious.     Besides, 


LETTERS.  263 

why  should  more  assemble  than  are  wanted  ?  and  what  a  waste  of 
money  attendant  on  the  travelling  of  so  many  from  distant  parts  !  I 
do  most  earnestly  wish,  my  dear  brother,  you  would  set  yourself 
in  earnest  towards  promoting  annual  collections,  and  making  them 
universal. 

I  feel  extremely  concerned  for  the  uneasiness  you  have  felt.  My 
poor  prayers  will  not  be  wanting  in  your  behalf:  but  alas  !  how  far 
am  I  from  having  power  with  God  !  Do  not,  my  dear  brother,  let  your 
spirits  sink  ;  you  are  dear  to  God,  and  he  will,  1  am  persuaded,  support 
you,  and  bring  forth  your  "  righteousness  as  the  liglit,  and  your  judg- 
ment as  the  noon-day." 


LVII. 

TO  WM.  HOLLICK,  ESQ. 


My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  August  11,  1817. 

It  is  wiih  great  concern  I  have  heard  of  your  illness.  Mr.  Edmonds 
informed  me  [some  time  ago  that]  you  were  very  poorly ;  but  I  have 
been  much  concerned  to  hear  that  you  have  since  been  much  worse, 
and  that  you  suffer  much  from  your  complaint. 

Mrs.  Hall  and  myself  have  been  long  anticipating  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  shortly  at  Cambridge,  and  of  renewing  the  pleasure  we 
derived  from  our  former  visit.  But  alas  !  how  uncertain  are  all  human 
prospects  !  how  vain  to  depend  upon  any  thing  short  of  the  promises 
of  "  Him  who  cannot  lie  !" 

I  hope,  my  dear  friend,  you  enjoy  the  consolations  of  that  religion 
you  have  been  so  long  acquainted  with,  and  the  value  of  which  is  never 
more  sensibly  felt  than  under  the  pressure  of  affliction.  How  empty 
and  delusive  does  the  world  then  appear  ;  and  how  unspeakably  cheer- 
ing that  "  good  hope  through  grace"  which  the  gospel  inspires  !  To 
look  up  to  God  as  a  reconciled  and  compassionate  Father, — to  know 
that  "  He  is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities,"  and  that  He 
"  made  an  everlasting  covenant  with  us,  well  ordered  in  all  things,  and 
sure," — these  are  wells  of  everlasting  consolation.  You,  my  dear  friend, 
are,  I  trust,  no  stranger  to  these  sure  cordials  and  supports  ;  and,  with 
these,  sliould  you  be  called  to  pass  through  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  you  will  fear  no  evil ;  his  rod  and  staff  will  comfort  you." 
It  is  impossible  for  me  to  suggest  any  thing  to  your  mind  with  which 
you  are  not  already  acquainted ;  but,  might  I  be  permitted  to  advert  to 
my  own  experience,  I  should  say,  that  I  liave  found  nothing  so  salutary 
as  to  turn  the  mind  immediately  to  the  Saviour:  "Whosoever  callcth 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved."  To  pray  immediately  to 
Christ,  to  cast  ourselves  incessantly  upon  His  power  and  grace,  as 
revealed  in  the  gospel,  appears  to  be  the  best  antidote  to  eve?y  tend- 
ency to  despondency.     I  have  no  doubt  that  we  are  much  wanting  to 


264  LETTERS. 

ourselves  in  not  having  more  direct  dealings  with  the  Saviour,  or  not 
addressing  him  now  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  i%  was  applied  to  for 
the  relief  of  bodily  disease.  He  is  exalted  at  the  righi-hand  of  God. 
for  the  express  purpose  of  dispensing  pardon,  peace,  and  eternal  life 
to  all  that  humbly  seek  his  aid  ;  and,  Avonderful  condescension  !  he  has 
declared  he  "  will  in  nowise  cast  out  whomsoever  cometh  unto  him." 
If  I  had  not  been  particularly  occupied  with  my  answer  to  Mr.  King- 
horn,  which  is  now  in  the  press,  I  should  probably  have  be^n  at  Cam- 
bridge before  this.  Mrs.  H.  has  suspended  all  thoughts  of  coming 
imder  present  circumstances  ;  but  if  it  wou]d  be  any  particular  gratifi- 
cation to  you  to  see  me,  I  will  give  up  every  engagement  in  order  to 
see  you ;  though  it  can  be  but  for  a  few  days.  I  desire  to  bless  and 
adore  the  grace  of  God,  in  the  signal  change  which  has  been  wrought 
in  the  mind  of  Mr.  N.,  to  whom,  as  well  as  your  daughter,  Mrs.  H. 
unites  with  me  in  afleclionate  remembrances. 
I  am,  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LVIII. 

EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  THE  REV.  W.  BUTTON. 

Jan.  5,  1818. 
I  am  much  surprised  at  the  rapid  sale  of  my  sermon  ;  which  I  impute 
not  so  much  to  its  intrinsic  merit  (for  I  think  I  have  printed  better), 
as  to  the  occasion.  Mr.  Combe  proposes  to  publish  two  editions  more, 
making  seven  in  the  whole,  as  speedily  as  possible.  I  am  afraid  he 
will  overdo  it :  if  you  are  of  that  opinion,  do  stop  him.*  You  will  have 
an  opportunity  of  judging  while  the  fifth  and  sixth  are  selling. 


*  The  sermon  here  alluded  to  was  thai  on  the  death  of  the  rrinccss  Charlotte  of  Wales.  Mr. 
Combe's  anticipations  as  to  its  sale  seem  to  have  been  more  accurate  than  those  of  the  author,  for 
it  has  gone  through  sucteai  editions. — Ed. 


LETTERS.  265 

LIX. 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  PHILLIPS,      (extract.) 

Leicester,  March  6,  1818. 


What  a  loss  would  dear  Mr.  Hughes  be  to  the  Bible  Society,  and  to 
the  religious  world  in  general !  I  beg  to  be  most  afleciionately  and 
respectfully  remembered  to  him.  Please  to  inform  him  when  you  see 
him  how  ardent  is  my  desire,  and  that  of  thousands,  that  his  most 
valuable  life  may  be  spared  and  protracted  to  a  distant  period.  I  rejoice 
to  hear  he  is  better,  and  hope  he  will  be  spared  to  the  prayers  of  the 
religious  public.  I  am  quite  of  opinion,  with  you,  that  the  admirable 
temper  and  prudence  of  Mr.  Hughes  have  been  as  serviceable  as  the 
more  brilliant  talents  of  Mr.  Owen  :  both  admirable  men, — par  nobile 
fratrurn. 


LX, 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  GRINFIELD,  CLIFTON. 

WHAT  DOCTRINES  ARE  FUNDAMENTAL  % 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Aug.  5,  1818. 

In  reply  to  your  favour  of  July  2d,  which  ought  to  have  been  answered 
sooner,  you  will  not  expect  me  to  enter  deeply  into  the  subject  in  the 
compass  of  a  letter.  A  very  few,  and  possibly  very  superficial,  remarks 
must  suffice. 

1.  Whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  about  fundamentals,  it  cannot 
affect  the  solidity  of  my  reasoning,  which  is  directed  to  this  : — that  no 
church  has  a  right  {in  foro  conscicntios)  to  demand  more,  as  a  term  of 
communion,  than  that  church  deems  essential  to  salvation.  The 
evidence  of  this  proposition  is  quite  independent  of  the  question,  what 
is  essential  to  salvation  1 

2.  That  some  truths  are  fundamental  besides  those  you  have  enu- 
merated appears  to  me  sufficiently  manifest  from  the  word  of  God. 
If  Christ  is  set  forth  as  a  propitiation  (or  mercy-seat — 'i\aaTr!piov), 
through  faith  in  his  blood,  then,  faith  in  his  blood  is  fundamental ;  and 
as  the  apostle  is  speaking  of  him  as  a  propitiation,  faith  in  his  blood 
must  mean  a  trust  in  him,  under  that  character.  But  how  can  tbis 
consist  with  his  being  a  mere  prophet  or  martyr,  or  with  the  denial  of 
his  atonement?     Again — "As  Moses    lifted   up    the  serpent  ia  the 


266  LETTERS. 

"wilderness,"  &;c.  Every  orthodox  interpreter  supposes  this  is  intended 
to  represent  Christ  crucified,  or  lifted  up  on  the  cross,  as  a  divinely- 
appointed  source  of  cure  to  our  spiritual  maladies,  and  consequently 
an  expectation  of  spiiitual  benefit  from  him,  as  crucified.  But  how 
does  this  consist  witli  the  idea  of  his  death,  as  a  mere  circum- 
stance confirming  his  doctrine,  exclusive  of  any  proper  influence  it  is 
supposed  to  exert  in  the  pardon  of  sin  1  He  is  said  to  Le  "  the  end 
of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth ;"  then  justifi- 
cation, or  acceptance  with  God,  is  the  consequence  of  faith  in  him  as 
the  great  antitype  and  completion  of  the  legal  sacrifices  and  ceremonies. 
We  are  everywhere  affirmed  to  be  justified  by  that  faiih  of  which  he 
is  the  object ;  and  if  the  conceptions  entertained  by  the  Socinians  of 
that  object  are  essentially  difl^erent  from  ours,  then  must  their  faith  in 
that  object  be  equally  so,  and  one  or  other  of  them  essentially  defective 
or  erroneous.  I  am  aware  I  have  transgressed  the  canon  you  have 
laid  down,  which  excludes  a  reference  to  particular  texts.  I  have  done 
so,  because  I  am  by  no  means  satisfied  respecting  the  justness  of  that 
canon.  I  am  at  a  loss  how  general  reasoning  can  ascertain  the  point 
in  question,  exclusive  of  an  immediate  appeal  to  the  words  of  Scripture. 
It  is  with  God  to  determine  what  is  essential  to  be  believed  in  order  to 
salvation;  and  his  determinations  on  tliis  subject  can  only  be  ascer- 
tained by  attentively  weighing  the  sense  of  Scripture.  It  is  true,  dif- 
ferent parties  interpret  particular  passages  difl^erenily  :  to  quote  these 
or  similar  passages  to  a  Soeinian  would,  it  is  confessed,  be  to  little 
purpose.  But  you,  my  dear  sir,  profess  not  to  be  a  Soeinian  :  with 
you,  therefore,  the  only  question  ought  to  be,  Is  the  proposition  which 
affirms  faith  in  the  atonement  to  be  fundamental  to  salvation  a  legiti- 
mate inference  from  the  commonly-received  or  ortliodox  interpretation 
of  these  passages?  If.it  is,  we  must  either  renounce  our  orthodoxy 
or  admit  (however  painful  it  may  be)  that  inference.  If  the  revealed 
method  of  salvation — revealed  (I  say)  fully  after  the  completion  of  the 
canon — is  a  cordial  acceptance  of  Christ  as  the  propitiation  for  the  sins 
of  the  world,  tliey  who  reject,  deliberately  and  habitually,  every  idea 
of  vicarious  atonement,  cannot  be  in  that  way.  The  beUef  of  the  mes- 
siahbliip  of  Christ  was  unquestionably  held  by  the  ancient  heretics,  or 
ihey  could  have  made  no  pretension  to  be  considered  as  Christians  in 
any  sense ; — yet  we  know  in  what  light  they  were  regarded  by  the 
primitive  Christians :  and  why  should  tliey  who  deny  the  miraculous 
conc(;ption,  the  incarnation,  and  the  atonement  of  the  Son  of  God  be 
considered  in  a  more  favourable  light?  You  yom-self,  not  satisfied 
with  the  general  proposition — the  mcssiahship  of  Christ,  descend  to 
particular  doctrines,  e.  g.  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  But  to  me  it 
appears  that  the  collective  moment  of  the  doctrines  I  have  mentioned 
is  far  more  than  that  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  considered  apart 
from  tlie  doctrine  of  immortality  or  a  future  life.  In  short,  I  can  see 
no  possible  medimn  between  giving  up  the  doctrines  already  [men- 
tioned,] and  asserting  their  fundamental  importance  ;  since,  supposing 
us  to  interpret  aright  the  passages  on  wliich  we  found  them,  their  belief 
is  everywhere  conjoined  with  saving-  benefits.     Whether  we  interpret 


LETTERS.  2ff7 

these  passages  aright,  is  in  no  degree  the  question  before  us ;  but 
solely,  supposing  our  interpretation  correct,  whether  the  fundamental 
nature  of  the  doctrines  in  question  is  not  a  necessary  consequence. 

I  return  you  my  most  sincere  thanks  for  the  favourable  opinion  you 
express  of  my  performance  ;  and  that  you  may  be  guided  into  the  midst 
of  the  paths  of  judgment  is  the  sincere  prayer  of 

Your  obliged  Friend  and  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXI. 

TO  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  IVIMEY,  LONDON. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Feb.  20,  1819. 

I  had  intended  long  since  to  thank  you  very  sincerely  for  your  very 
valuable  present  of  your  tM^o  volumes  of  the  History  of  the  Baptists. 
I  think  it  is  highly  creditable  to  yourself,  and  to  the  denomination  to 
which  you  belong.  I  read  them  both  with  much  interest  and  delight, 
and  have  seldom  derived  equal  information  and  pleasure  from  any 
similar  work.  It  will  be  a  permanent  monument  of  your  talent  and 
devotedness  to  the  cause  of  religious  truth  and  liberty.  You  have 
brought  forward  a  great  deal  of  curious  inibrmation,  with  which  the 
public  were  little,  if  at  all,  previously  acquainted.  I  was  much  pleased 
with  your  style  of  narration :  it  is  perspicuous,  lively,  and  perfectly 
unaffected.  With  respect  to  reviewing  it  in  the  Baptist  Magazine,  I 
am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  put  a  negative  on  your  wishes.  I  have  the 
utjnost  aversiop  to  the  whole  business  of  reviewing,  which  I  have  long 
considered,  in  the  manner  in  which  it  is  conducted,  a  nefarious  and 
unprincipled  proceeding,  and  one  of  the  greatest  plagues  of  modern 
times.  It  was  infinitely  better  for  the  interests  of  religion  and  litera- 
ture when  books  had  fair  play,  and  were  left  to  the  unbiassed  suffrages 
of  the  public.  As  it  is,  we  are  now  doomed  to  receive  our  first  impres- 
sion and  opinion  of  books  from  some  of  the  wickedest,  and  others  of 
the  stupidest  of  men, — men,  some  of  whom  have  not  sense  to  write  on 
any  subject,  nor  others  honesty  to  read  what  they  pretend  to  criticise, 
yet  sit  in  judgment  upon  all  performances,  and  issue  their  insolent  and 
foolish  oracles  to  the  public.  To  abolish  the  power  of  reviewing  would 
be  the  greatest  benefit  a  single  man  could  confer  on  the  public.  At  the 
same  time,  while  such  things  are,  the  support  of  one  like  the  Eclectic, 
upon  sound  principles,  becomes  a  necessary  evil.  Your  work  wants 
no  such  artificial  props. 

Earnestly  wishing  your  valuable  life  and  labour  may  long  be  spared, 
I  remain,  with  much  esteem,  dear  Sir, 

Your  obliged  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


268  LETTERS. 

LXIL 

TO  MRS.  TUCKER. 

Dear  Madam,  Leicester,  April  16,  1819. 

I  feel  myself  much  gratified  and  honoured  by  your  kind  and  affec- 
tionate expressions  of  remembranr^  of  an  old  friend,  ^vho,  though 
long  detained  by  circumstances  from  personal  intercourse  and  corres- 
pondence, will  never  hear  the  name  of  Mrs.  Tucker  with  indifference. 
I  am  delighted  to  hear  from  you,  and  to  learn  that,  with  all  the  changes 
effected  by  time,  to  which  you  so  affectingly  allude,  the  ardour  of  mind 
and  warmth  of  sensibility  by  which  you  were  formerly  distinguislied 
remain  unimpaired.  How  wonderful,  how  complicated  the  mazes  of  pro- 
vidence tlirough  which  we  are  conducted  in  our  pilgrimage  to  eternity  ! 
Could  we  foresee  the  trials  which  await  us,  the  agonies  and  vicisshudes 
we  are  called  to  pass  through,  life  would  be  insupportable  ;  but  we  are 
led,  like  the  blind,  by  a  way  that  we  know  not,  and  strength  is  dealt  out 
just  in  proportion  to  our  day.  Let  us,  my  dear  friend,  look  forward, 
and  remember  that  our  salvation  is  nearer  than  when  we  first  believed. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  fiercest  part  of  our  mortal  warfare  is  passed,  and  that 
the  evening  of  life  will  be  more  tranquil  than  the  morning  and  the  noon. 
May  our  deep  experience  of  the  mutability  and  vanity  of  the  present 
shadowy  state  be  improved  into  a  perpetual  motive  for  cultivating  that 
heavenly-mindedness  which  is  the  only  effectual  antidote  to  the  miseries 
of  life.  With  respect  to  my  visiting  Plymouth,  I  have  heard  nothing 
of  it  from  any  quarter ;  and  should  I  be  invited  on  the  occasion  you 
mention,  it  will  be  utterly  out  of  my  power  this  summer  to  comply 
with  it.  My  engagements  are  already  too  numerous.  But  of  this, 
my  dear  madam,  be  assured,  that  should  my  steps  be  directed  to 
Plymouth  at  any  time  during  your  life,  I  shall  never  for  a  moment 
think  of  taking  my  abode  but  at  your  house,  with  your  permission, 
should  I  be  invited  by  a  prince.  You  little  know  me  if  you  suppose 
that  rank  and  fashion  would  have  the  smallest  influence  in  inducing 
a  forgetfulness  of  ancient  friendship.  My  chief  inducement  to  visit 
Plymouth  would  be  the  pleasure  of  once  more  seeing  and  conversing 
with  Mrs.  Tucker.  With  my  kindest  remembrances  to  Mr.  Tucker, 
I  remain, 

Dear  Madam, 

Your  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  269 


LXIII. 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  LANGDON. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Ja7i.  11,  1820. 

As  Mr.  Ryland  is  passing  through  to  Leeds,  I  take  the  liberty  of 
troubling  you  with  a  t'ew  lines,  just  to  let  you  know  how  I  and  my 
family  are,  and  to  express  my  undiminished  affection  and  attachment 
to  one  of  niy  oldest  and  best  friends.  I  look  back  with  renewed 
pleasure  on  the  scenes  through  which  we  have  passed,  and  deeply 
regret  that  Providence  has  placed  us  at  such  a  distance  from  each 
other  that  our  opportunities  of  intercourse  are  so  few.  I  hope  the 
period  will  arrive  when  we  shall  spend  an  eternity  together,  and  look 
back  with  mingled  wonder  and  gratitude  on  all  the  way  the  Lord  God 
has  led  us.  What  a  scene  will  that  present  when  the  mysterious 
drama  shall  come  to  a  close,  and  all  the  objects  of  this  dark  and  sub- 
lunary state  shall  be  contemplated  in  the  light  of  eternity ! 

"  O  could  we  make  our  doubts  remove, 
Those  gloomy  doubts  thiit  rise, 
And  see  tlie  Canaan  that  we  love 
With  unbeclouded  eyes." 

T  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  been  so  much  afflicted  with 
your  asthmatic  complaint.  It  is  high  time  you  retired  from  your 
school,  and  procured  a  house  nearer  your  meeting.  I  am  persuaded 
your  long  evening  walks  are  extremely  prejudicial.  Do,  my  dear 
friend,  be  prevailed  upon  to  give  up  your  evenmg  lectures.  It  is  what 
you  owe  to  your  family  to  be  as  attentive  as  possible  to  your  health. 
"  Do  thyself  no  harm,"  is  an  apostolic  injunction. 

I  was  much  aflected  to  hear  of  the  death  of  dear  Mr.  Robert  Spear. 
It  must  have  been  peculiarly  distressing  to  die  amiable  youth  I  saw  at 
your  house.  He  was  a  most  excellent  man,  and  has  no  doubt  had  an 
abundant  entrance  into  tlie  joy  of  his  Lord.  May  we  be  followers 
of  those  who  thus  inherit  the  promises.  My  health  is,  through  mercy, 
very  good.  Mrs.  Hall  is  at  present  very  much  indisposed  by  a  bad 
cold  and  oppression  of  the  lungs,  but  through  blistering  and  bleeding 
is,  through  mercy,  better.  Let  me  indulge  the  hope  that  next  summer 
you  and  Mrs.  Langdon  will  visit  me  at  Leicester.  Be  assured  that 
the  company  of  no  friend  would  give  me  more  pleasure. 

Please  to  remember  me  affectionately  to  Mrs.  Langdon,  to  your 
family,  and  to  all  inquiring  friends  as  if  named. 

I  am  your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


270  LETTERS. 

LXIV. 

TO  A  GENTLEIMAN  AT  TRINITY  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  April  30,  1821. 

I  am  considerably  at  a  loss  how  to  answer  your  letter.  I  sincerely 
sympathize  with  you  in  the  perplexity  you  experience  on  a  very  high 
and  awful  subject.  For  my  own  part,  I  acquiesce  in  the  usual  and 
popular  interpretation  of  the  passages  which  treat  on  the  future  doom 
of  the  finally  impenitent.  My  reasons,  in  brief,  are  as  follows : — I 
assume  it  as  a  maxim,  that  we  are  utterly  incompetent  to  determine, 
a  priori,  what  is  the  amount  of  guilt  incurred  by  such  as  reject  the 
overtures  of  the  gospel,  any  further  than  God  has  been  pleased  to 
make  it  the  subject  of  express  revelation;  that  the  terms  expressive 
of  the  duration  of  future  misery  are  as  forcible  as  the  Greek  language 
supplies  ;  that  the  same  term  is  applied  to  the  duration  of  misery  as 
to  the  duration  of  happiness,  or  even  the  eternity  of  God  himself  (Matt. 
XXV.  46  ;  Rev.  xix.  3) ;  that  the  exclusion  of  the  impenitent  from  hap- 
piness is  asserted  in  the  most  positive  terms — "  They  shall  not  see  life," 
&c.  &c.,  that  "  their  worm  dieth  not,  and  their  fire  is  not  extinguished  ;" 
that  positive  terms  may  be  understood  in  different  degrees  of  latitude, 
but  this  is  impossible  respecting  negative  terms,  since  a  negation 
admits  of  no  degrees. 

If  the  eternal  misery  of  a  certain  number  can  be  rendered  conducive 
to  a  greater  amount  of  good  in  relation  to  the  universe  at  large  than  any 
other  plan  of  action,  then  the  attribute  of  goodness  requires  it ;  for  I 
take  it  for  granted  that  the  Supreme  Being  will  adopt  that  scheme, 
whatever  it  be,  which  will  produce  the  greatest  quantity  of  happiness 
on  the  w4iole.  But  our  faculties  are  too  limited,  and  our  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  the  moral  world,  and  of  the  relation  which  one  part 
of  the  universe  bears  to  another,  too  imperfect  to  enable  us  to  say  that 
this  is  impossible.  For  augiit  we  know,  therefore,  the  existence  of 
eternal  misery  may  not  only  consist  with,  but  be  the  necessary  effect 
of,  supreme  goodness.  At  all  events,  it  is  a  subject  of  pure  revelation, 
on  the  interpretation  [of  which]  every  one  must  be  left  to  form  his  own 
judgment.  If  the  milder  interpretation  can  be  sustained  by  a  prepon- 
derating evidence,  I  shall  most  sincerely  rejoice ;  but  I  have  yet  seen 
nothing  to  satisfy  me  that  this  is  the  case. 

I  would  only  add,  that  in  my  humble  opinion  the  doctrine  of  the 
eternal  duration  of  future  misery,  metaphysically  considered,  is  not 
an  essential  article  of  faith,  nor  is  the  belief  of  it  ever  proposed  as  a 
term  of  salvation ;  that  if  we  really  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  by 
truly  repenting  of  our  sins,  and  laying  hold  of  the  mercy  of  (iod  through 
Christ,  by  a  lively  faith,  our  salvation  is  perfectly  secure,  whichever 
hypothesis  we  embrace  on  this  most  mysterious  subject.  The  evidence 
accompanying  the  popular  interpretation  is  by  no  means  to  be  compared 


LETTERS.  271 

to  that  which  establishes  our  common  Christianity ;  and  therefore  the 
fate  of  the  Christian  religion  is  not  to  be  considered  as  implicated  in 
the  belief  or  disbelief  of  the  popular  doctrine. 

Earnestly  wishing  you  may  be  relieved  from  all  painful  solicitude 
on  the  question,  and  be  guided  by  the  Spirit  of  God  into  the  paths  of 
truth  and  holiness,  I  remain, 

Your  obedient  humble  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXV. 

TO  RICHARD  FOSTER,  JUN.,  ESQ. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  July  21,  1821. 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  favour  (which  I  should  have  acknowledged 
sooner,  but  was  not  at  home),  including  a  draft  for  111.,  and  odd. 

With  respect  to  my  sermon  on  the  Trinity,  I  entered  into  no 
metaphysical  disquisition  whatever :  I  merely  confined  myself  to  the 
adducing  passages  which  go  to  prove  a  plurality  of  persons  in  the 
blessed  Godhead  ;  such  as  the  plural  name  of  God  in  the  Hebrew,  the 
use  of  plural  pronouns,  the  injection  of  plurals  in  the  name  of  God 
coupled  with  singular  verbs,  the  use  of  the  terms  Makers,  Creators, 
&c.  I  adduced  Isaiah,  saj'ing,  "  The  Lord  hath  sent  me  and  his 
Spirit,"  &c.  From  the  New  Testament  I  mentioned  the  baptismal 
form,  the  salutation  to  the  Corinthians.  To  these  I  added  the  principal 
passages  usually  adduced  in  proof  of  the  divinity  of  Christ  and  the 
personality  of  the  Spirit.  In  short,  it  was  a  mere  appeal  to  the  letter 
of  Scripture,  without  the  smallest  attempt  at  metaphysical  refinement. 
I  considered  that  doctrine  continually  as  a  doctrine  of  pure  revelation, 
to  which  reasoning  can  add  nothing  but  darkness  and  uncertainty.  It 
appears,  however,  to  me  replete  with  practical  improvement,  being 
adapted  to  exhibit  the  part  which  each  person  in  the  blessed  Trinity 
sustained  in  the  economy  of  redemption  in  the  most  engaging  light,  and 
to  excite  the  utmost,  ardour  of  gratitude.  The  time  was  when  I  main- 
tained the  dual  system,  supposing  the  Holy  Spirit  to  be  an  energy ; 
but  I  have  long  found  abundant  reason  to  renounce  that  doctrine,  and 
now  find  much  complacency  in  the  ancient  doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 

As  you  mention  the  [meeting-house]  being  shut  up,  I  hope  it  is  to 
heighten  h.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  extreme  heat  and  closeness  of  the 
place  must  have  a  very  injurious  effect  on  the  health  both  of  the 
minister  and  people.  I  hope  you  continue  comfortable,  and  that  the 
Lord  is  giving  testimony  to  tlie  word  of  his  grace.  The  interest  of 
religion  in  a  church  which  I  served  so  long  and  so  happily  will  ever 
lie  near  my  heart. 

I  am  your  affectionate  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


272  LETTERS. 


LXVI. 

TO  THE  REV.  ISAIAH  BIRT. 

My  dear  Sir,  Leicester,  May  29,  1822. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  very  clieerlul  coinpliance  with 
my  proposal  respecting  supplying  and  preaching  for  our  school  during 
my  visit  to  Kidderminster.  It  is  an  arrangement  which  gives  high 
satisfaction  to  our  people.  The  prospect  of  spending  a  little  time 
with  my  dear  and  honoured  friend  is,  I  confess,  my  chief  inducement 
for  proposing  it.  I  should  be  very  unhappy  if  I  did  not  spend  a  little 
time  with  you,  at  least  once  a  year;  and  as  Providence  has  happily 
placed  us  in  the  same  general  vicinity,  I  shall  always  eagerly  embrace 
the  opportunity  it  aflbrds.  Friendship  is  the  balm  of  life  ;  and  the 
thought  that  time  must  dissolve,  ere  long,  the  tie  that  has  so  long  united 
us,  would  be  melancholy  indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  consoling  recol- 
lection of  a  reunion  in  a  better  world:  "Let  us  love  one  another,  for 
love  is  of  God  ;"  and  I  hourly  hope  we  are  both  training  up  for  a  world 
of  perfect  love.  I  am  certain  of  it  respecting  7jou,  O  that  I  had  as 
great  an  assurance  respecting  myself!  But  I  have  a  feeble  hope, 
which  I  would  not  exchange  for  a  world  '. 

With  respect  to  the  other  part  of  the  arrangement,  having  heard 
nothing  from  Tamworth  as  yet,  it  seems  premature  to  say  any  thing 
of  it.  But  I  must  say  that  T  can  by  no  means  comply  with  it.  My 
lecture  is  on  Wednesday,  to  which  I  justly  attach  a  great  importance  ; 
and  the  arrangement  you  mention  would  occasion  my  absence  two 
Wednesdays,  which  I  would  not  incur  for  any  ordination  whatever. 
Ordination  services,  as  they  are  now  conducted,  I  consider  as  of  more 
show  than  use.  The  presence  of  one  or  two  ministers,  along  with  the 
church,  accompanied  witli  prayer  and  laying  on  of  hands,  and  a  few 
serious  exhortations,  would  be  a  genuine  Scriptural  ordination.  No- 
thing can  be  more  distant  from  this  than  the  manner  in  which  these 
things  are  at  present  conducted.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  can  by  no 
means  consent  to  be  absent  two  lectures  for  such  a  purpose.  You 
may,  therefore,  expect  to  see  me  on  Friday  at  Birmingham.  I  beg  to 
be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  dear  Mrs.  Birt,  and  to  dear  Mrs. 
Tucker  and  her  husband. 

I  am  your  afTectionate  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


LETTERS.  273 

LXVII. 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  LANGDON,  OF  LEEDS. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  January  9,  1823. 

I  am  much  concerned  to  hear  of  the  heavy  bereavement  with  which 
it  has  pleased  God  to  afflict  you  and  dear  Mrs.  Langdon,  by  the  un- 
expected removal  of  your  most  amiable  daughter.  I  never  saw  a 
young  female  whose  character  impressed  me  with  higher  esteem.  I 
cannot  wonder  for  a  moment  that  your  tears  flow  freely  on  her  account. 
It  is,  indeed,  a  most  severe  and  afflictive  stroke,  which  none  but  a 
parent,  and  the  parent  of  such  a  child,  can  duly  appreciate.  I  feel 
myself  highly  honoured  and  gratified  in  the  recollection  of  having 
possessed  any  share  in  her  esteem. 

Still,  my  dear  friend,  there  is  much  mercy  mingled  with  the  severity 
of  the  dispensation.  It  is  an  unspeakable  mercy  to  be  able  to  reflect 
on  the  decided  piety  of  the  dear  deceased,  which  so  eminently  prepared 
her  for  the  event  you  so  deeply  deplore.  Nor  is  it  a  small  alleviation 
of  the  anguish  resulting  from  such  a  stroke,  to  reflect  that  the  time  is 
short,  and  the  end  of  all  things  at  hand.  Painful  as  is  the  thought  to 
all  your  friends,  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  it  must  be  familiar,  that,  in  all 
probability,  her  separation  from  you  will  be  but  of  short  duration  ;  and 
that  she  has  entered,  a  little  while  before  you,  into  that  blessed  eter- 
nity for  which  you  have  long  been  waiting. 


LXVIIL 

TO  THE  REV.  THOMAS  GRINFIELD,  CLIFTON. 

ON    HUTCHINSONIANISM. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  March  4,  1823. 

I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  not  sooner  replying  to  your  favour,  in 
which  you  condescend  to  inquire  my  opinion  on  the  subject  of  Hut- 
chinsonianism.  The  reason  of  my  delay  was  my  conscious  inability  to 
give  an  opinion  entitled  to  any  degree  of  weight.  I  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  considering  Hutchinsonianism  as  a  tissue  of  fancies,  unsup- 
ported by  reason  or  Scripture  ;  and  all  that  has  occurred  to  me  to  read 
on  that  system,  has  confirmed  that  impression.  I  have  attentively 
perused  Parkhurst's  Dissertation  on  the  Cherubic  Figures  in  the  Tem- 
ple :  it  appears  to  me  a  most  confused  and  unsatisfactory  disquisition ; 
nor  is  he  able  to  answer,  in  any  tolerable  degree,  the  objection  arising 
from  their  being   represented  in  the  attitude  of  worshippers.     He 

Vol.  IIL— S 


274  LETTERS. 

attempts  to  get  over  this  by  observing,  that  though  the  divine  Persons 
whom  they  represent  could  not  without  absurdity  be  represented  in  the 
character  of  worshippers,  their  symbols  might :  but  this  is  to  me 
utterly  unintelligible.  He  is  evidently  much  embarrassed  with  the 
four  faces  ;  a  most  unlikely  symbol  of  a  Trinity.  I  am  equally  dis- 
satisfied with  his  notion  of  the  three  elements  of  air,  light,  and  fire 
being  intended  as  natural  types  and  symbols  of  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Spirit.  For  this  there  appears  to  me  not  a  shadow  of  proof. 
The  metaphors  of  Scripture  afford  none  whatever ;  as  is  evident  from 
this  one  consideration,  that  the  figurative  language  of  Scripture  is  in- 
terpreted as  naturally  and  as  easily  without  the  aid  of  the  Hutchinsonian 
hypothesis  as  with  it.  What  is  that  sort  of  typical  instruction  which 
never  instructed  1  And  where  is  the  people  to  be  found,  where  the 
individual,  who  learned  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  from  the  works  of 
nature  1  I  cannot  suppose  it  would  ever  have  suggested  itself  to  a 
single  mind,  had  it  not  been  commmiicated,  probably,  among  the  earliest 
revelations  of  God. 

My  utter  despair  of  deriving  any  solid  benefit  from  these  specula- 
tions must  plead  my  excuse  for  not  occupying  my  attention  in  any 
attempt  to  investigate  the  merits  of  the  system  more  closely ;  and  I 
am  truly  concerned  to  hear  that  Mr.  B.  designs  to  write  upon  the  sub- 
ject. I  am  afraid  it  will  have  no  other  effect  than  to  strengthen  exist- 
ing prejudices  against  evangelical  doctrine. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  with  much  esteem, 

Yours  most  respectfully, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXIX. 

TO  THE  REV. 


IN    REPLY    TO    A    REQUEST    TO    WRITE    A    REVIEW. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Nov.  16,  1823. 

You  have  put  me  on  a  most  irksome  task ;  and  were  the  request  to 
come  from  almost  any  other  quarter,  I  should  refuse  to  comply  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation.  I  find  it  difficult  to  deny  you  any  thing ; 
but,  really,  you  could  scarcely  have  proposed  any  thing  to  me  more 
disagreeable.  I  think  very  highly  of  your  son's  publication  ;  so  that 
my  objections  arise  in  no  degree  from  that  quarter.  But,  in  the  first 
place,  I  am  far  from  being  satisfied  of  the  propriety  of  suffering  the 
sentiments  of  private  friendship  to  prevail  in  a  review.  A  reviewer 
professes  to  be  a  literary  judge ;  and  his  sentence  ought  to  be  as  un- 
biassed as  that  of  any  magistrate  wliatever.  But  what  should  we 
think  of  a  judge  who  permitted  himself  to  be  tampered  with  by  either 
party  concerned,  with  a  view  to  procure  a  favourable  decision  ?  In  the 
exercise  of  his  censorial  ofllice,  a  reviewer  ought  to  have  neither  friends 


LETTERS.  275 

nor  enemies,  [t  is  an  adherence  to  this  maxim  which  can  alone 
secure  the  dignified  impartiaUty  of  criticism,  or  entitle  it  to  the  smallest 
degree  of  credit.  A  work  like  your  son's  does  not  need  artificial  sup- 
port ;  and  one  of  an  opposite  description  does  not  deserve  it.  Your 
son  should  rest  calmly  on  his  own  merits,  with  a  becoming  confidence 
that  an  enlightened  public  will  not  fail  to  do  him  justice.  There  was 
never  a  period  in  my  life  when  I  would  have  stooped  to  solicit  a  review. 
I  speak  on  the  supposition  of  the  application  originating  with  him. 

In  the  next  place,  when  it  is  known  I  have  complied  in  this  instance, 
I  shall  be  harassed  with  innumerable  applications.  ,  in  par- 
ticular, will  have  the  justest  reason  to  complain  :  for  he  has  at  different 
times  most  vehemently  importuned  me  to  review  particular  works, 
which  I  have  steadily  refused ;  and  the  only  method  I  have  found  to 
shield  myself  from  his  importunities  has  been  to  renounce  reviewing 
altogether.  I  think  it  probable  he  would  not  admit  my  review  ;  I  am 
sure  he  ought  not,  for  the  reasons  I  have  assigned,  and  I  have  laid 
him  under  no  such  obligation  as  to  induce  him  to  depart  from  the 
straight-forward  path.  I  do  not  suppose  I  could  bring  myself  to  speak 
higher  of  the  work  than  an  impartial  reader  would  do  ;  and  what  ad- 
vantage, then,  could  be  derived  from  my  reviewing  it  ?  But  supposing 
I  did,  where  would  be  the  justice  to  the  public  ?  You  perceive,  my 
dear  friend,  the  difficulties  which  surround  me,  and  the  reasons  why, 
in  my  humble  opinion,  the  interference  of  friendship  should  not  be 
allowed  in  such  cases. 

I  write  altogether  in  the  dark.  You  have  not  informed  me  in  what 
Review  you  would  wish  me  to  write  ;  nor  do  I  know  whether  it  has 
been  reviewed  already.  I  am  not  at  all  in  the  habit  of  reading  either 
the  Eclectic  or  any  other  Review  :  indeed,  I  wish  the  whole  tribe  could 
be  put  an  end  to. 


LXX. 

TO  MR.  J.  E.  RYLAND.     (extract.) 

Leicester,  1824. 
*  *  *  I  cannot  write  but  upon  some  specified  subject;  and 
tJiat  subject  must  be  something  Avhich  suggests  itself  spontaneously  to 
my  tlioughts.  I  feel  an  insuperable  repugnance  to  the  bending  of  my 
mind  to  the  suggestion  of  othei-s :  it  must  be  free  as  air,  or  I  cannot 
move  to  any  purpose  :  whatever  I  write  must  originate  entirely  with 
myself.  Though  I  have  no  objection  to  gaining  money,  yet  my  love 
of  it  is  not  sufficiently  strong  for  it  to  have  any  sensible  influence  in 
directing  my  literary  exertions.  There  are  several  subjects,  which  I 
have  revolved  in  my  mind,  to  which  I  feel  a  decided  preference  \  and 
if  I  present  mvself  to  the  public  at  all,  it  must  be  in  tjie  discussion  of 

S2 


276  LETTERS. 

these.  As  to  Pascal,  few  admire  him  more  than  myself:  but,  in 
writing  an  introduction,  1  should  feel  myself  quite  out  at  sea;  I  should 
float  without  any  determinate  direction  ;  my  mind  would  have  no  de- 
terminate object;  and,  not  having  a  distinct  idea  of  what  I  wished  to 
do,  I  should  do  nothing  to  any  purpose.  For  elegant  and  specious  decla- 
mation, I  have  no  sort  of  talent.  I  must  have  a  brief;  I  must  have  some- 
thing like  a  fixed  thesis,  some  proposition  I  wish  to  establish  or  illus* 
trate,  or  I  feel  perfectly  cold  and  indifferent.  For  my  part,  I  let  every 
man  pursue  his  own  plans :  how  it  is  that  I  am  doomed  to  be  the  per- 
petual object  of  advice,  admonition,  expostulation,  &;c.  (fee,  as  a  writer, 
I  know  not.  I  am  sure  it  does  not  arise  from  any  proofs  I  have  given 
of  superior  docility.  I  know  myself  so  well  as  to  be  distinctly  aware 
that  importunities  of  this  kind  have  always  the  effect  of  indisposing 
me  to  their  object.  I  should  have  written  more  had  I  been  urged  less ; 
and  when  the  public  cease  to  dictate  to  me,  I  shall  feel  myself  ray 
own  master. 


LXXI. 

TO  MRS.  LANGDON. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  HUSBAND. 

My  dear  Madam,  Leicester,  Oct.  23,  1824. 

The  melancholy  intelligence  of  the  death  of  dear  Mr.  Langdon  has 
deeply  affected  me  ;  and  most  happy  should  I  deem  myself  were  it  in 
my  power  to  administer  effectual  consolation  under  such  a  stroke.  I 
refrained  from  addressing  you  immediately,  waiting  for  the  first  trans- 
ports of  grief  to  subside ;  because  I  well  know  that  premature 
attempts  to  console  only  irritate  the  sorrows  they  are  meant  to  heal. 
Let  me  indulge  the  hope,  that  by  this  time  reason  and  religion  are 
come  to  your  aid,  and  that  you  are  prepared  to  say,  with  the  greatest 
and  most  illustrious  of  sufferers,  "Even  so,  Father;  for  so  it  seemeth 
good  in  thy  sight." 

The  remarkable  combination  of  the  most  lovely  qualities  with  the 
most  fervent  piety,  which  distinguished  the  character  of  our  dear  friend, 
while  they  enhance  the  sense  of  your  loss,  will,  I  hope,  mitigate  its 
bitterness  in  another  view,  by  assuring  you  that  "  great  is  his  reward 
in  heaven."  Death  to  him  is,  undoubtedly,  "  exceeding  great  gain  ;" 
nor  would  vou,  in  your  best  moments,  wish  to  draw  him  down  from 
his  elevated  abode,  to  tliis  vale  of  sorrow  and  afHictioii.  The  stroke 
was  not  entirely  sudden  and  unexpected :  a  long  series  of  attacks  and 
infirmities  must,  no  doubt,  have  contributed  to  familiarize  your  mind  to 
the  event.  Remember,  my  dear  madam,  that  the  separation  is  but  for 
a  season ;  our  dear  friend  is  not  lost,  but  preferred  to  an  infinitely 
higher  state,  where  lie  is  awaiting  your  arrival.     To  me  his  removal 


LETTERS.  277 

will  long  be  a  source  of  deep  regret ;  for  where  shall  I  find  a  friend 
equally  amiable,  tender,  and  constant?* 

I  beg  to  be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  each  of  your  dear 
children,  earnestly  praying  that  their  father's  God  may  be  their  God. 
Wishing  and  praying  that  you  may  be  favoured  with  the  richest  con- 
solations of  religion, 

I  remain,  my  dearest  Madam, 

Your  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hali,. 


LXXII. 

TO  J.  B.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ.,  SHREWSBURY. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  March  29,  1825. 

Some  apology  is  necessary  for  not  having  sooner  acknowledged  your 
very  kind  present  of  your  new  and  highly  improved  edition  of  tlie 
admirable  Philip  Henry,  Avhom  you  have  the  honour,  I  find,  of  enume- 
rating among  your  ancestors.  It  is  a  descent  with  which  you  have 
more  reason  to  be  satisfied  than  if  you  could  trace  your  pedigree  from 
the  Plantagenets.  I  waited  only  until  I  had  time  to  renew  my  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Life  of  that  amiable  man,  and  to  form  an  estimate  of 
the  improvements  it  has  derived  from  diligent  researches.  I  have  not 
yet  entirely  completed  the  volume  ;  but  I  am  now  busy  in  doing  so, 
and  have  read  enough  to  satisfy  myself  of  the  great  obligations  you 
have  conferred  on  the  public  by  this  excellent  work.  The  additional 
documents  and  letters  by  which  you  have  enriched  and  enlarged  the 
original  narrative,  constitute  a  treasure  of  wisdom  and  piety,  for  which 
you  are  entitled  to  the  warm  acknowledgments  of  every  Christian 
reader,  and  especially  of  every  dissenter.  May  a  double  portion  of 
his  spirit  descend  on  the  rising  generation  of  ministers  ! 

The  labour  and  research  requisite  for  furnishing  such  a  repast  must 
have  been  great ;  but  not  more  so,  I  dare  say,  than  the  pleasure  you 
derived  from  the  consciousness  of  conferring  so  important  a  benefit  on 
the  public.  Permit  me  to  thank  you,  most  sincerely,  for  the  favour  you 
luive  done  me  by  the  bestowment  of  so  valuable  a  present.  It  were 
highly  desirable  that  more  such  biographies  of  the  illustrious  dead, 
improved  and  enlarged  as  this,  might  be  given  to  the  public  :  if  it  had 
no  other  fruit  than  to  withdraw  their  attention  a  little  from  that  farrago  of 
periodical  trifles,  by  which  the  public  mind  is  dissipated,  and  its  taste 
corrupted.  ****** 

I  remain,  dear  Sir, 
Your  highly  obliged  Friend  and  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 

*  Mr.  I.angdon  and  Mr.  Hall  had  been  fellow-students  at  Bristol ;  and  ever  after  cherished  for  eacli 
other  the  warmest  esteem  aiid  affection. — Ed. 


278  LETTERS. 

LXXIII. 
TO  MR.  J.  E.  RYLAND. 

My  (Har  Sir,  Leicester,  May  21,  1825. 

I  am  ex.remely  concerned  to  hear  the  melancholy  account  your  letter 
contains  of  the  situation  of  your  dear  and  honoured  father,  at  the 
same  time  that  1  feel  grateful  to  you  for  the  communication.  I  had 
heard  previously  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  in  a  declining  state ;  but, 
little  imagining  he  was  so  ill.  your  letter  gave  me  a  violent  shock. 
With  God  all  things  are  possible ;  and  who  can  tell  but  the  Lord  may 
yet  raise  him  up,  and  assign  him  more  work  to  do  before  he  is  taken 
to  his  eternal  reward  ?  It  is  my  earnest  wish  and  prayer  that  such 
may  be  the  result.  His  loss  will  be  most  deeply  felt,  not  only  by  his 
afflicted  family,  but  by  a  very  numerous  circle  of  friends,  and  by  the 
church  ol'  God  at  large.  For  himself,  all  is  and  will  be  well ;  nothing 
can  possibly  befall  him  but  what  will  be  highly  to  his  advantage.  A 
man  of  a  more  eminently  holy  and  devoted  spirit  than  that  of  your 
dear  father  it  has  never  been  my  lot  to  witness,  and  very,  very  few 
who  made  any  approach  to  him.  I  feel,  in  theprospect  of  his  removal, 
much  for  the  family,  the  academy,  and  the  church.  You,  my  dear  sir, 
together  with  your  very  excellent  mother  and  sisters,  will  be  the  objects 
of  a  deep  and  extensive  sympathy :  but  God,  whose  ways,  though 
mysterious,  are  always  gracious  and  merciful  towards  them  that  fear 
him,  will,  I  doubt  not,  sustain  and  support  you  under  this  afflicting  stroke, 
and  cause  it  afterward  to  work  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness. 
His  prayers  will  draw  down  innumerable  blessings  on  those  who  were 
nearest  and  dearest  to  him ;  for  who  can  doubt  that  the  prayers  of 
such  a  man  must  avail  much  ?  The  impression  of  Ids  example  and 
the  memory  of  his  virtues  will  suggest  a  most  powerful  motive  to 
constancy,  patience,  and  perseverance  in  the  ways  of  God.  You  will 
never  cease  to  bless  God  for  having  bestowed  upon  you  such  a  parent. 
His  humdity,  meekness,  tenderness,  devotedness  to  God,  and  zeal  for 
the  interests  of  truth  and  holiness,  will  long  endear  him  to  the  Christian 
world,  and  make  his  name  like  the  odour  of  precious  ointment.  What, 
in  the  event  of  your  dear  father's  removal,  Avill  become  of  the  academy 
and  the  church  ;  I  tremble  to  think  of  tlie  consequences  :  never,  surely, 
could  he  have  been  spared  with  more  serious  injury  to  the  most  impor- 
tant interests !  May  the  eyes  of  all  of  us  be  [turned]  to  God  for  his 
direction  and  blessing !  I  should  have  written  to  your  dear  father 
himself,  but  feared  it  might  agitate  and  disturb  him.  I  beg  you  to 
remember  me  to  him  in  the  most  earnest,  respectful,  and  affectionate 
terms,  and  assure  him  of  a  deep  interest  in  my  feeble  prayers.  I  beg, 
also,  to  be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  your  dear  mother,  sisters, 
and  every  part  of  the  family.  That  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  may  take  your  dear  father  under  the  cover  of  his  wings, — and 


LETTERS.  279 

should  he  walk  through  the  valley  and  shadow  of  death,  afford  him  his 
rod  and  his  staff, — and  that  this  most  affecting  visitation  may- 
be sanctified  for  the  eternal  benefit  of  all  the  parties  concerned,  is, 
my  dear  sir,  the  earnest  prayer  of 

Your  most  aflectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXXIV. 

TO  MR.  J.  E.  RYLAND.     (extract.) 

'Leicester,  May  29,  1825. 
*  *  *  It  gives  me  much  pleasure,  but  no  surprise,  to  hear  that 
the  end  of  your  dear  father  was  emphatically  peace.  What  else,  or 
what  less,  could  be  expected  from  such  a  life  ?  As  he  was  one  of  the 
brightest  examples  of  holiness  on  earth,  no  doubt  great  is  his  reward 
in  heaven.  May  it  be  your  happiness,  my  dear  sir,  and  mine,  to 
follow,  though  at  an  humble  distance,  so  bright  a  pattern.  May  we  not 
be  slotliful,  but  followers  of  them  who,  through  faith  and  patience, 
inherit  the  promises.  I  need  not  repeat  how  much  I  feel  for  your  dear 
mother,  and  the  whole  bereaved  family.  It  is,  indeed,  an  irreparable 
loss  ;  but  such  is  the  tenure  of  all  earthly  bliss.  May  we  be  enabled 
to  lay  hold  on  eternal  life  ! 


LXXV. 

TO  MRS.  RYLAND. 

ON   THE  DEATH    OF   DR.    RYLAND. 


*  *  *  Permit  me,  my  dear  madam,  to  express  the  deep 
sympathy  I,  in  common  with  innumerable  others,  feel  for  you  under 
your  irreparable  loss.  The  magnitude  of  it  none  can  adequately 
estimate  but  yourself:  but  it  is  consoling  to  reflect,  that  you  are  not 
called  to  sorrow  as  those  that  have  no  hope  ;  that,  on  the  contrary,  our 
loss  is  his  unspeakable  gain.  And  the  time  is  short:  a  very  few  years 
will  put  an  end  to  all  our  sorrows  ;  and,  if  we  are  the  Lord's,  will  re- 
unite us  to  all  those  whom  we  have  most  loved  upon  earth. 

As  you  have  been  highly  distinguished  by  the  blessing  of  possessing 
such  a  companion  for  life,  so  it  is  no  inconsiderable  honour  to  have 
contributed  so  essentially  and  so  long  to  the  felicity  of  the  best  of  men. 
All  who  know  you  will  ever  respect  you,  not  only  as  the  relict  of  Dr. 
Ryland,  biu  as  the  distinguislied  individual  who  entitled  herself  to  his 
gratitude  by  such  a  series  of  unremitting  attentions  and  kind  offices 


280  LETTERS. 

(the  remembrance  of  which  must  be  a  source  of  melancholy  pleasure), 
as  will  doubtless  draw  down  a  blessing  from  Him  to  whom  he  was 
dear.  It  is  my  earnest  prayer,  that  the  God  who  reveals  himself  as 
the  father  of  the  fatherless  and  the  husband  of  the  widow,  may  take 
you  under  his  especial  protection,  and  supply  you  with  those  rich  and 
ineffable  consolations  which  are  neither  few  nor  small.  We  have  the 
word  of  Him  that  cannot  lie,  to  assure  us  that  "  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God."  That  you  may  feel  more 
of  liis  sustaining  hand,  and  of  his  bhssful  presence,  is,  dear  madam, 
the  earnest  prayer  of 

Your  affectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXXVI. 

TO  MR.  ARTHUR  TOZER,*  BRISTOL. 

IN    REFERENCE    TO    MR.    HALL's    REMOVAL    TO    BROADMEAD. 

My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  July  19,  1825. 

I  am  very  sorry  your  kind  letters  have  remained  unanswered  so  long: 
it  was  the  consequence  of  their  arriving  while  I  was  absent  from  home. 
I  did  not  arrive  at  Leicester  till  last  Saturday,  having  staid  at  Ketter- 
ing, in  order  to  preach  for  the  mission,  which  I  did  morning  and 
evening. 

The  letters  from  you  ought,  in  all  reason,  to  have  been  sent  forward; 
but  this  was  impracticable,  because  my  whole  family  were,  at  the  same 
time,  on  an  excursion  for  their  health.  I  hope  you  will  be  so  good  as 
to  accept  this  as  a  sufficient  apology  for  my  apparent  neglect.  Had  I 
been  guilty  of  any  voluntary  one  towards  a  friend  whom  I  so  highly 
esteem,  I  should  never  forgive  myself. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  hear  the  favourable  opinion  whicii  you  and 
the  rest  of  my  friends  entertain  of  me,  without  being  deeply  sensible 
of  their  kindness.  I  feel  myself  most  unworthy  of  such  an  expression 
of  their  regard  ;  the  consciousness  of  which,  while  it  enhances  my 
gratitude,  impairs  my  pleasure.  Could  I  see  my  way  clear  to  leave 
Leicester,  I  should  still  tremble  at  the  thought  of  being  placed  in  a 
situation  in  which  I  must  necessarily  sustain  a  comparison  with  your 
late  beloved  and  lamented  pastor. 

In  an  affair  of  so  much  magnitude,  I  should  wish  to  avoid  whatever 
might  wear  the  appearance  of  precipitance  ;  and  on  that  account,  should 
the  church  at  Broadmead  see  fit  to  give  mc  an  invitation  to  the  pastoral 
office,  I  should  wish  to  be  allowed  some  time  before  I  give  a  decisive 
answer.  On  some  very  obvious  accounts  I  should  prefer  Bristol, 
perhaps,  to  any  other  situation  ;  and  the  state  of  the  church  at  Leicester 

*  Mr.  Toicr  was  one  of  ilie  deacons  of  the  church  ai  Broadmeail. 


LETTERS.  281 

IS  far  from  being  precisely  as  I  could  wish.  Still  the  aspect  of  things 
is  brightening ;  the  clouds  I  trust  are  beginning  to  disperse ;  and  an 
important  step  has  already  been  taken  towards  the  restoration  of  mutual 
confidence  and  affection.  I  feel  at  present  inclined  to  believe  it  is  my 
duty  to  stay  at  Leicester.  I  wish  most  earnestly  to  be  directed  from 
above,  and  that  the  few  remaining  years  of  my  life  (if  any  are  allotted 
me)  may  be  passed  where  they  may  best  subserve  the  best  of  causes. 
I  am  not  at  all  given  to  change :  I  have  long  fixed  it  in  my  mind  that 
it  was  the  design  of  Heaven  that  I  shall  finish  my  days  here ;  and 
had  nothing  occurred  to  disturb  our  tranquillity,  I  should  not  have 
indulged  a  thought  to  the  contrary.  I  do  most  earnestly  bespeak  an 
interest  in  your  prayers,  that  my  way  may  be  directed  of  the  Lord ; 
and  that  "for  me  to  live  may  be  Christ,  and  to  die  gain." 

Pecuniary  considerations,  as  you  suspect,  will  have  little  influence 
in  guiding  my  determination.  I  beg  to  be  most  affectionately  re- 
membered to  all  inquiring  friends,  and  remain,  dear  sir, 

Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hai.l. 


LXXVII. 

TO   THE    SAME. 

My  very  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  August  11,  1825. 

I  should  have  sooner  written  to  you  but  on  two  accounts ;  first, 
the  almost  ceaseless  interruptions  I  have  met  with  since  my  return 
from  London,  which  have  kept  me  in  a  perpetual  hurry ;  and  second, 
my  inability,  even  at  present,  to  give  you  the  satisfaction  you  wish  by 
a  decisive  answer.  Sensible  as  I  deeply  am  of  the  unmerited  tokens 
of  respect  shown  me  by  my  Bristol  friends,  and  solicitous  if  possible 
to  comply  with  all  their  wishes,  I  still  feel  difficulties  in  the  way,  which 
I  know  not  how  to  surmount.  The  church  at  Leicester  is  much  agitated 
on  the  occasion,  and  have  evinced  great  unanimity  in  their  resolution 
to  adopt  the  speediest  and  most  effectual  measures  in  order  to  remove 
the  principal  source  of  my  uneasiness.  There  appears  to  be  but  one 
feeling  pervading  the  church  and  congregation.  AVhat  success  may 
attend  their  eflbrts  to  restore  peace  God  only  knows  ;  but  should  they 
be  successful,  I  shall  find  it  very  difficult  to  separate  myself  from  them. 
To  inflict  the  pain  it  would  occasion  to  many  excellent  persons  and 
kind  friends  would  cost  me  a  conflict  for  which  I  feel  myself  little 
prepared.  In  truth,  the  motives  for  staying  in  my  present  situation, 
and  the  motives  for  relinquishing  it,  are  so  equally  balanced,  that  I  am 
kept  still  in  a  state  of  suspense  ;  and  am  habitually  under  some  appre- 
hension, that  whatever  choice  I  make,  I  shall  be  apt  to  repent  not 
having  made  an  opposite  one.  It  is  certainly  an  humbling  consideration, 
not  to  be  able  to  come  to  a  speedier  decision ;  but  I  feel  tlie  weight 
of  the  affair,  and  that  the  consequences  of  it,  both  to  myself  and  others, 


282  LETTERS. 

will  probably  be  greater  than  can  result  from  any  future  step  in  my 
life.  I  earnestly  implore  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  that  the  Lord 
would  be  pleased  to  direct  me,  and  that,  wherever  the  bounds  of  my 
habitation  may  be  fixed,  "  Christ  may  be  magnified  in  my  body,'whether 
by  my  life  or  my  death."  The  greatest  annoyance  of  my  life,  for 
some  years  past,  has  arisen  from  not  being  able  to  command  my  time, 
particularly  in  the  morning  ;  and  could  I  be  assured  of  my  possessing 
this  inestimable  privilege,  the  poorest  and  most  neglected  village  would 
possess  irresistible  charms  for  me.  The  afternoon  and  evening  I  have 
always  been  wiUing  to  abandon  to  the  use  of  others ;  but  to  have  no 
time  I  can  call  my  own, — to  be  liable  to  have  the  most  precious  hours 
of  reading  and  meditation  snatched  from  me, — is  an  evil,  to  one  of  my 
temperament,  almost  insupportable.  Now  I  greatly  fear  this  evil 
would  be  increased  at  Bristol.  One  advantage  I  should  enjoy  at 
Bristol  (the  want  of  which  I  severely  feel  here)  is,  access  to  books ; 
but  what  will  this  avail  me,  if  I  have  no  time  to  read  them  ? 

I  have  carefully  inspected  the  documents  relating  to  Terril's  deeds, 
brought  by  Messrs.  Sherring  and  Phillips.  It  is  my  decided  opinion 
that  the  pastor  of  Broadmead  is  under  no  obligation  to  prepare  young 
men  for  the  ministry,  unless  they  are  presented  to  him  for  that  purpose  ; 
a  tiling  most  unlikely  to  happen,  when  such  ample  means  of  education 
are  already  provided.  Should  it  occur,  however,  he  has  only  to  make 
liis  election,  either  to  comply  with  the  demand,  or  to  relinquish  his 
interest  in  the  establishment.  As  to  the  fear  of  incurring  penalties,  it 
is  too  ridiculous  to  be  thought  of.  All  this,  however,  I  most  cheerfully 
leave  to  the  determination  of  the  trustees  ;  for  if  ever  I  was  sincere  in 
any  thing,  it  is  when  I  declare  that  pecuniary  considerations  will  have 
no  influence  in  my  decision.  To  deteriorate  my  situation  would  be 
injustice  to  my  family  :  beyond  that,  I  have  no  solicitude.  I  beg  to  be 
most  affectionately  remembered  to  Mr.  James  and  my  sisters,  and  all 
friends,  as  if  named.     I  remain,  dear  sir. 

Your  afli'ectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXXVIII. 

TO   THE    SAME. 


My  very  dear  Friend,  Lcicrstcr,  Oct.  3,  1825. 

I  am  as  much  ashamed  as  any  of  my  friends  can  be,  to  keep  them 
so  long  in  suspense  respecting  my  determination  in  regard  to  removing 
to  Bristol.  I  l'(!el  it  to  be  of  so  much  importance  to  my  own  happiness, 
and  in  the  relation  it  bears  to  the  spiritual  interests  of  a  large  body 
of  people,  both  here  and  at  Bristol,  that  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of 
coming  to  a  final  decision.  My  inclination,  I  confess,  stands  towards 
]}ristol.  'i'he  reasons  are  obvious :  two  sisters,  justly  dear  to  me, 
residing  there ;    a  place  dear  to  me  from  ancient   recollections,  and 


LETTERS.  283 

from  the  most  enchanting  scenery ;  access  to  books,  a  want  which  I 
most  grievously  feel  here ;  many  old  friends,  or  the  families  of  old 
friends,  whom  I  much  love  and  esteem ;  a  superior  description  of 
society  ;  and,  I  may  add,  equal,  if  not  superior,  prospects  of  usefulness. 
These,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  are  weighty  considerations,  and  I 
feel  them  in  their  full  force,  insomuch  that  I  feel  myself  incapable 
of  relinquishing  the  thought  of  Bristol  Avithout  a  pang.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  most  sensibly  feel  the  difficulty  of  leaving  a  people  who  are 
most  affectionately  attached,  and  a  congregation  which  I  have,  through 
mercy,  been  the  instrument  of  raising  from  a  very  low  to  a  very 
flourishing  state.  The  certainty  of  giving  great  uneasiness  to  many 
excellent  and  worthy  friends,  and  of  being  accessary  to  the  injury  of  aij 
interest  which  ouglit  ever  to  be  dear  to  me,  presses  much  upon  my 
mind :  it  is,  indeed,  the  grand  difficulty  I  feel  in  the  way  of  leavijig 
Leicester.  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  destroying  what  I  have  been 
the  means  of  building  up.  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  rushing  into  a 
sphere  of  action  to  which  I  am  not  called,  and,  it  may  be,  of  oflending 
God  by  deserting  my  proper  post.  As  it  is  the  last  remove,  in  all 
probability,  I  shall  ever  be  tempted  to  make  before  I  am  conveyed  to 
the  "  house  appointed  for  all  living,"  I  feel  extremely  anxious  that  it 
may  be  made  with  the  Divine  approbation,  conscious  that  my  times  are 
in  the  Lord's  hands.  I  desire  most  sincerely  to  acknowledge  him  in 
all  my  ways.  O  that  I  might  hear  a  voice  behind  me,  saying,  "  This 
is  the  way,  walk  thou  in  it !"  My  mind  is  much  perplexed,  my  resolu- 
tion not  decided.  I  feel  a  conflict  between  opposite  motives,  and  am 
drawn  by  contrary  attractions ;  though,  were  I  to  consult  my  inclina- 
tions alone,  I  should  certainly  decide  for  Bristol :  my  advanced  period 
of  life,  and  the  apprehension  of  its  possible,  if  not  probable,  effects  on 
the  interests  of  religion,  form  the  grand  objections.  One  thing  I  must 
beg  leave  to  mention,  that  were  I  to  settle  with  you,  I  should  decline 
taking  any  share  in  the  monthly  lecture.  In  the  united  prayer-meeting 
I  should  engage  with  pleasure.  I  have  but  little  opinion  of  the  utility 
of  the  first  of  those  meetings. 

On  the  whole  I  must  request  one  month  more,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  (if  my  life  is  spared)  you  may  reckon  upon  my  giving  you  a 
decisive  answer.  During  that  interval,  I  will  again  seek  Divine  guid- 
ance ;  and  I  humbly  hope  I  shall  receive  it.  At  all  events  I  Avill  not 
keep  you  longer  in  suspense,  and  am  truly  concerned  at  having  exercised 
your  patience  so  long. 

I  beg  to  be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  Mr.  Holden,  and  thank 
him  sincerely  for  his  kind  letter.     My  best  regards  await  all  inquiring 
friends.     My  love  to  dear  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James,  and  my  sister. 
I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  afi'ectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


2S4  LETTERS. 


LXXIX. 

TO    THE    SAME. 


My  dear  Friend,  Leicester,  Dec.  G,  1825. 

I  have  just  time  at  present  to  inform  you  that  I  have  come  to  a 
determination  to  accept  the  invitation  the  church  and  congregation 
of  Broadmead  have  thought  fit  to  give  me,  on  the  following  terms : 
that  I  make  trial  of  the  situation  for  one  year,  and  that  at  the  termina- 
tion of  it,  if  it  shoidd  not  answer  our  mutual  purposes,  each  party,  i.  e. 
the  church  and  myself,  shall  be  at  liberty  to  separate.  I  do  not  say  this 
from  the  smallest  desire  that  the  union  may  not  be  permanent ;  I 
earnestly  hope  and  pray  that  it  may :  but  futurities  are  in  the  hand 
of  (Jod ;  and  if  the  change  of  situation  should  be  found  materially  to 
affect  my  health,  which  at  my  stage  of  existence  is  equivalent  to  life, 
or  if  the  ends  we  propose  are  not  answered,  I  may  be  at  liberty, 
after  a  fair  trial,  to  dissolve  the  connexion,  without  incurring  the  charge 
of  levity  and  inconstancy.  If  I  shall  be  spared  to  come,  it  will  be 
with  the  hope  and  intention  of  living  and  dying  among  you,  nor  shall 
I  cherish  any  expectation  of  change  ;  but  imperious  reasons,  connected 
with  my  happiness  and  usefulness,  may  arise  to  determine  me  to  the 
contrary,  of  which  I  shall  probably  be  able  by  that  time  to  form  a 
judgment. 

I  write  this  in  haste,  as  I  expect  Mr.  Daniell  every  moment,  who  is 
setting  out  at  two  o'clock.  I  shall  address  a  letter  to  the  church  in  a 
few  days  :  I  purpose  to  direct  it  to  you  ;  when  you  will  be  so  good  as 
to  forward  it,  or  read  it  to  the  church.  1  have  only  one  thing  to  request, 
and  that  is  of  great  importance ;  that  you  will  grant  me  an  interest  in 
your  prayers,  that  my  way  may  be  prospered,  that  I  may  be  kept  from 
falling,  and  that  my  removal  to  Bristol  may  be  instrumental  to  the 
conversion  of  sinners,  and  to  the  building  up  the  church  in  faith  and 
holiness.  Let  me  beg  you,  my  dear  and  honoured  friend,  not  to  forget 
me  at  a  throne  of  grace.  My  assurance  of  this  on  your  part,  and  on 
the  part  of  my  friends  in  general,  would  add  unspeakably  to  the 
comfort  of, 

My  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 

P.  S. — I  beg  my  love  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James,  and  sister  Mary. 
Kind  remembrances  to  all  friends. 


LETTERS.  285 


LXXX. 


TO  THE  CHURCH  OF  CHRIST  ASSEMBLING  IN  BROADMEAD, 

BRISTOL. 


ON   ACCEPTING    THE    PASTORAL    OFFICE. 


My  dear  Brethren,  Leicester,  Dec.  21,  1825. 

After  long  and  mature  deliberation,  and  earnest  prayer,  I  write  these 
lines  to  inform  you  that  I  accept  the  invitation  you  have  been  pleased 
to  give^me  to  the  pastoral  office.  That  it  may  become  a  mutual  bless- 
ing, and  that  you  and  myself  may  reap  the  fruit  of  it,  in  the  glory  of 
God,  the  spiritual  improvement  of  each  other,  and  the  conversion  of 
sinners  from  the  error  of  their  way,  will,  I  trust,  continue  to  be,  as  it 
has  already  been,  the  object  of  your  frequent  and  fervent  supplication 
to  the  throne  of  Grace.  Be  assured  I  feel  deeply  my  utter  inability  for 
the  adequate  discharge  of  the  weighty  duties  which  devolve  upon  me, 
and  particularly  my  unfitness  to  walk  in  the  steps  of  your  late  venera- 
ble pastor.  My  only  hope  amid  the  discouragement  arismg  from  this 
quarter  is  placed  in  "  your  prayers,  and  the  supply  of  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  Jesus."  Conscious  as  I  am  of  innumerable  imperfections,  I 
must  rely  on  your  candour  for  a  favourable  construction  of  my  conduct, 
and  reception  of  my  labours.  Permit  me,  my  dear  brethren,  to  con- 
clude, by  "  recommending  you  to  God,  and  to  the  word  of  his  grace, 
which  is  able  to  build  you  up,  and  to  give  you  an  inheritance  among 
all  them  that  are  sanctified  by  the  faith  of  Jesus."  I  remain,  dear 
Brethren, 

Your  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXXXI. 

TO  THE  REV.  P.  J.  SAFFERY,  OF  SALISBURY. 

Dear  Sir,  Leicester,  Jan.  16,  1826. 

I  duly  received  your  favour,  and  cannot  be  insensible  to  the  honour 
you  have  done  me,  in  wishing  me  to  assist  at  your  approaching  ordi- 
nation, by  delivering  a  charge.  I  am  sorry  you  appear  to  lay  so  much 
stress  upon  it,  because  it  makes  me  the  more  uneasy  in  putting  that 
negative  on  your  wishes  which  my  judgment  and  my  inclination  dictate. 
As  I  intend  to  avoid  engagements  out  of  Bristol  as  much  as  possible, 
and  very  rarely,  if  ever,  to  officiate  at  ordinations,  I  can  by  no  means 
consent  to  begin  my  career  there  by  an  engagement  of  that  nature, 
which  would  at  once,  by  giving  erroneous  expectations,  be  productive 


286  LETTERS. 

of  much  inconvenience.  Nearly  all  the  spare  time  I  can  command 
from  my  proper  station  will  necessarily  be  occupied  in  visiting  the 
connexions  among  which  I  have  lived,  and  where  I  have  numerous 
old  and  tried  friends,  Avho  must  be  ever  dear  to  my  heart.  As  to 
ordinations,  it  has  long  been  my  opinion  that  they  are  best  conducted 
by  the  presbyters  or  elders  of  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  party  ;  and 
that  to  step  beyond  that  circle  is  to  sacrifice  or  impair  the  chief  bene- 
fit of  that  practice,  which  is  the  putting  a  wholesome  check  on  the 
abuse  of  the  popular  suffrage,  by  making  it  impossible  for  a  minister 
to  establish  himself  at  the  head  of  a  congregation  without  the  appro- 
bation and  sanction  of  the  circle  of  pastors  witli  whom  he  is  to  act. 
It  is  an  affair  in  which  the  church  are  chiefly  or  solely  concerned ; 
and  thougli  the  calling  in  a  stranger  on  such  occasions  may  attract  a 
greater  audience,  it  is,  in  my  humble  opinion,  at  the  expense  of  more 
important  objects.  For  these  and  other  reasons  that  might  be  adduced, 
you  must  allow  me  firmly,  though  most  respectfully,  to  decline  the 
service  you  have  been  pleased  to  assign  me  ;  and,  to  cut  off  any  occa- 
sion of  [discussion,]  I  must  request  the  favour  of  [your]  accepting  this 
reply  as  final. 

I  cannot  close  these  lines,  however,  without  expressing  the  pleasure 
it  affords  me  to  find  you  are  likely  to  succeed  your  excellent  father. 
That  a  double  portion  of  his  spirit  may  rest  upon  you  is,  dear  sir,  the 
sincere  desire  and  prayer  of 

Your  sincere  Friend  and  humble  Servant, 

Robert  Hall. 

P.S. — I  beg  to  be  respectfully  remembered  to  your  excellent  mother, 
though  personally  unknown. 


LXXXII. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  J.  P.  SMITH,  HOMERTON. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  Bristol,  Nov.  3,  1826. 

I  have  to  complain  of  a  good  deal  of  misrepresentation  in  what  is 
stated  in  your  letter,  as  having  passed  in  my  interview  with  Dr.  Malan. 
The  (;onvf'rsations  (for  they  were  two)  passed  at  my  house,  not  at 
Clifton.  He  was  insisting  much  on  the  absolute  necessity  of  the  full 
assurance  of  our  personal  salvation,  which,  as  he  appeared  to  carry 
it  to  a  great  extent,  led  me  to  remark  tliat  it  seemed  to  me  a  most 
desirable  attainment,  and  what  every  sincere  Christian  ought  to  seek 
after  with  diligence,  rather  than  as  essential  to  the  very  [existence] 
of  religion.  And  in  the  course  of  conversation,  I  confessed  that  I  had 
it  not  myself.  At  this  he  expressed  his  surprise,  and  began  with 
emphasis  to  recite  that  passage  in  John's  epistle,  "  He  that  believeth 
that  Jesus  is  the  Christ  is  born  of  God."  His  discourse  to  me  on 
this  subject  was  not  satisfactory.     Part  of  it  was  not  very  intelligible  ; 


LETTERS.  287 

and  part,  as  far  as  I  did  understand  it,  was  injudicious,  and  bordermg 
on  enthusiasm.  I  certainly  was  extremely  struck  with  the  indications 
of  exalted  piety  and  love  exhibited  by  his  whole  deportment,  and  par- 
ticularly his  countenance.  I  must  confess  there  was  something  in  his 
looks  that  reminded  me  more  of  the  ideal  picture  I  have  formed  of  the 
Saviour,  than  I  ever  saw  before  in  any  human  being :  and  as  I  am  too 
prone  to  express  myself  in  the  style  of  hyperbole,  it  is  to  that  part  of 
his  character  that  the  expression  your  letter  quoted  must  be  understood 
to  allude.  Though  I  am  certain  I  never  used  some  of  the  words 
imputed  to  me,  particularly  those  in  which  I  am  represented  as  saying, 
"AH  other  men  were  brutes  and  beasts  compared  to  him."  I  am 
equally  a  stranger  to  the  words  and  the  ideas,  you  may  depend  on  it.  I 
never  acknowledged  the  little  success  of  my  sermons  arose  from  my 
ministry  not  being  accompanied  with  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
He  observed  that  my  printed  discourses  (of  these  only  he  spoke) 
wanted  simplicity  :  nor  was  I  at  all  concerned  or  surprised  at  that ; 
for  he  found  much  fault  with  Maclaurin's,  on  "  Glorying  in  the  Cross 
of  Christ,"  which  he  accused  of  the  same  defect,  observing  that  it 
exhibited  the  truth,  but  did  not  exhibit  his  Master ;  a  remark  which 
appeared  to  me  (as  I  observed  to  him)  very  unintelligible.  I  never 
gave  thanks  aloud  that  Dr.  Malan  was  brought  to  Bristol ;  nothing  of 
the  kind  ever  passed  from  me.  I  probably  did  (indeed  I  know  I  did) 
express  myself  much  gratified  in  having  an  opportunity  of  a  personal 
interview  ;  and  I  parted  from  him  with  much  esteem  and  affection  on 
my  part.  I  thought  him,  on  the  whole,  a  very  extraordinary  man ; 
though  much  more  to  be  admired  for  his  ai'dent  piety  and  lively  imagi- 
nation than  for  judgment  or  profundity.  Even  on  his  favourite  topic 
of  assurance  he  seemed  sometimes  to  retract  all  that  he  had  asserted. 
I  did  not  hear  him  [preach ;]  but  I  learned  afterward  that  his  hearers 
generally  went  away  with  the  impression  of  their  having  heard  very 
new  doctrine.  If  Dr.  Malan  has  given  the  statement  you  have  copied, 
I  am  heartily  sorry  for  it,  because  it  is  extremely  inaccurate,  and  must 
necessarily  diminish  the  high  regard  in  which  I  held  him.  Thus  I 
have  given  you,  my  dear  sir,  a  brief  outline  of  what  passed ;  and  most 
earnestly  wish  you  every  degree  of  success  in  your  labours  to  maintain 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

I  am,  dear  and  Rev.  Sir, 
With  very  high  esteem,  your  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 
N.  B. — Permit  me  to  return   my  most    sincere   thanks    for   your 
admirable  defence  of  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  against 
Belsham :  it  will  benefit  the  church,  I  trust,  as  long  as  the  English 
language  lasts. 


288  LETTERS. 

LXXXIII. 

TO   W.   B.   GURNEY,   ESQ. 

ON   THE    DEATH    OF    MRS.    GURNEY. 

My  dear  Friend,  Bristol,  August  25,  1827. 

It  is  H  verj'  few  days  since  I  heard  the  very  melancholy  intelligence 
of  the  removal  of  dear  Mrs.  Gurney  ;  and  I  was  not  willing  to  obtrude 
on  the  sacred  privacy  of  grief  till  its  first  agitation  was  in  some  measure 
subsided.  Most  deeply  is  this  stroke  felt,  and  long  will  continue  to  be 
so,  by  that  very  large  circle  of  which  she  was  the  ornament  and 
delight ;  but  how  much  more  severe  the  stroke  on  him  who  was  united 
to  her  by  the  tenderest  of  earthly  ties  !  To  me  the  information  was 
like  a  thunderclap :  it  was  so  sudden,  and  so  unexpected,  that  I  could 
scarcely  persuade  myself  it  was  a  reality ;  it  seems  now  like  one  of 
those  frightful  visions  of  the  night  which  vanish  at  the  return  of  dawn. 

Alas  !  hoAV  fresh  in  my  mind  is  the  figure  of  the  dear  deceased, 
presiding  in  the  social  circle  v'ith  that  inimitable  ease,  elegance,  and 
grace  which  captivated  every  heart : — changed  now,  and  clouded  for 
ever  with  the  shades  of  death !  Never  was  a  victim  snatched  by  the 
^reat  destroyer  more  beloved,  or  more  lamented. 

But  why  should  I  dwell  on  what  is  so  distressing  to  remember, 
rather  than  advert  to  the  brighter  side  of  this  melancholy  picture! 
You,  my  dear  friend,  have  lost  the  richest  of  earthly  blessings  in  a 
most  admirable  and  amiable  wife  ;  but  grace  has  completed  its  triumph 
in  adding  to  the  celestial  choir  one  more  spirit  of  "  the  just  made  per- 
fect." Bright  as  she  shone  in  her  earthly  sphere,  her  light  was  dim 
and  obscure  compared  to  that  which  now  invests  her.  Her  pure  and 
celestial  spirit  has  ascended  to  its  native  seat,  where  she  "  bears  the 
name  of  her  God  on  her  forehead,  and  serves  him  day  and  night  in  his 
temple."  Your  loss,  my  dear  friend,  is  her  unspeakable  gain ;  and 
your  mind  is  too  generous  in  your  calmest  moments  to  wish  her 
hurled  from  her  celestial  elevation.  Let  a  few  more  months  and  years 
revolve,  and  you  will  be  reunited  to  part  no  more ;  the  days  of  your 
mourning  will  be  ended  ;  the  Lord  will  be  to  you  (as  he  is  already  to 
the  dear  deceased)  "your  everlasting  light,  and  your  God  your  glory." 

I  hope  you  will  not  suffer  the  excess  of  grief  so  to  absorb  your  mind 
as  to  shut  out  the  consolations  of  piety,  or  the  claims  of  duty.  It  is 
my  earnest  prayer  that  God  himself  may  comfort  you,  and  that  he 
may  be  pleased  so  to  sanctify  this  most  heavy  trial,  that  though 
"  faint,"  you  may  be  "  still  pursuing ;"  and  that,  though  you  "  sow  in 
tears,"  you  may  "  reap  in  joy." 

1  beg  to  be  most  affectionately  remembered  to  every  branch  of  your 
family,  as  well  as  to  all  inquiring  friends ;  and  remain,  with  deep  concern, 
Your  affectionate  and  sympathizing  Friend, 

Robert  Hall, 


LETTERS.  ^  289 


LXXXIV. 

TO  EBENEZER  FOSTER,  ESQ. 

My  dear  Sir,  Bristol,  Jan.  29,  1829. 

I  safely  received  your  favour  of  the  20th  instant.  It  gives  me  great 
pleasure  to  infer  from  your  letter,  that  the  health  of  your  family,  and 
particularly  of  your  elder  brother,  is  in  a  tolerable  state. 

The  death  of  Mrs. must  have  been  felt  very  severely  by  your 

excellent  consort,  to  whom  I  beg  to  express  a  deep  and  sincere  sym- 
pathy. I  was  greatly  affected  when  I  heard  of  it,  and  shall  ever  carry 
with  me  a  grateful  and  affectionate  sense  of  the  uniform  kindness  with 
which  she  treated  me,  as  well  as  of  the  many  amiable  and  interesting 
traits  of  her  character.  It  would  have  given  me  pleasure  to  have  been 
informed  what  were  her  views  and  feelings  in  the  prospect  of  eternity  : 
I  hope  she  exhibited  that  state  of  mind,  on  the  approach  of  that  awful 
crisis,  which  must  prevent  surviving  friends  from  "  sorrowing  as  those 
who  have  no  hope."  I  have  lately  heard  with  much  concern  of  the 
alarming  illness  of  my  dear  friend  ; — but  have  rejoiced  to  learn  subse- 
quently that  considerable  hopes  are  entertained  of  his  recovery. 
While  events  of  this  nature  present  a  striking  commentary  on  the 
solemn  declaration  that  "  all  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man 
as  the  flower  of  the  field,"  it  is  consoling  to  remember  that  "  the  word 
of  the  Lord  endureth  for  ever ;"  and  that,  by  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel,  it  is  more  extensively  promulgated  than  ever. 

The  intelligence  you  have  just  given  me  of  the  rapid  extension  of 
evangelical  religion  in  Cambridge  is  highly  gratifying ;  nor  can  I  en- 
tertain any  serious  apprehension  of  ultimate  injury  resulting  from 
thence  to  the  dissenting  interest.  If  something  like  competition  should 
have  the  effect  of  giving  increased  momentum  to  the  exertions  of  both 
parties,  the  public  may  be  benefited,  and  both  improved. 

With  respect  to  my  health,  I  can  say  little  that  I  could  wish  to  say. 
Some  small  abatement  of  the  violence  and  frequency  of  my  old  com- 
plaint has,  I  tiiink,  of  late  been  experienced :  but  it  is  very  inconsid- 
erable ;  and  the  last'  night  it  prevented  me  getting  a  wink  of  sleep 
until  after  seven  o'clock  this  morning.  On  this  account,  I  can  speak 
with  no  sort  of  confidence  of  my  intended  visit  to  Cambridge,  further 
than  this,  that  I  feel  a  most  anxious  desire  of  enjoying  it,  and  that 
nothmg  but  absolute  necessity  will  prevent  me  from  making  the  attempt ; 
and,  as  travelling  on  the  outside  is  much  the  easiest  to  me,  it  will  not 
be  prudent  to  undertake  it  till  the  summer  is  tolerably  advanced.  I 
have  little  intelligence  to  communicate  worthy  of  your  attention.  I 
continue  to  be  very  happy  with  my  people,  from  whom  I  daily  receive 
every  demonstration  of  affection  and  respect.  Our  attendance  is  as 
good  as  I  could  wish ;  and  we  have  added  to  the  Baptist  church,* 

*  To  render  this  phrase  intelligible  to  some  readers,  it  may  be  proper  to  observe,  that  in  the  congre- 
gation at  Brondinead  there  are  two  classes  of  persons  who  are  associated  in  church-l'ellowsliip :  one 
consists  of  tliosfi  only  who  have  been  baptized  in  adult  age,  on  a  confession  of  faith  ;  while  the 
other  consists  jointly  of  such  and  of  Pedobaptists.  The  former  are  "  strict  communion  Baptists," 
and  constitute  the  Baptist  church :  the  latter  furnish  an  example  ol  "  mixed  coiamunion." — Ed. 

Vol,  III.— T 


290  LETTERS. 

during  the  last  year,  twenty-seven,  and  six  are  standing  candidates  for 
baptism.  For  these  tokens  of  Divine  presence  I  desire  to  be  thankful. 
Mrs,  Hall  and  my  family  are,  through  mercy,  as  well  as  usual ;  and 
join  witli  me  in  most  afiectionate  regards  to  every  branch  of  your 
family,  and  to  the  Cambridge  circle  of  friends  in  general.     I  beg  to  be 

most  affectionately  remembered  to  dear  Mr. ,  and  to  assure  him 

of  my  deep  sympathy  with  him  under  his  heavy  and  irreparable  loss. 
It  is  my  fervent  and  sincere  prayer  it  may  be  sanctified.  > 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  obliged  and  affectionate  Friend, 

Robert  Hall. 


LXXXV. 

TO  JAMES  NUTTER,  ESQ.,  SHELFORD,  NEAR  CAMBRIDGE. 

My  very  dear  Friend,  Bristol,  Feb.  16,  1829. 

I  heard  with  much  concern  of  your  late  alarming  illness,  and, 
witli  a  proportionate  degree  of  joy  of  your  partial  recovery,  and  of  the 
pleasing  prospect  presented  of  your  yet  surviving  for  years,  to  be  a  bless- 
ing to  your  family  and  connexions.  It  grieves  me  much  to  learn  from 
Mr.  Price,  that  you  have  experienced  something  like  a  relapse,  and 
that  your  situation  is  considered  still  critical  and  precarious.  However 
the  Lord  may  dispose  of  you  (though  it  is  my  earnest  prayer  that  your 
days  may  be  prolonged  to  a  distant  period),  I  cannot  adequately  ex- 
press my  satisfaction  at  finding  you  are  favoured  with  such  an  expe- 
rience of  the  consolations  of  religion,  as  to  enable  you  to  comfort  your 
sorrowing  friends,  and  to  bear  so  glorious  a  testimony  to  the  power 
and  grace  of  the  Redeemer.  O,  my  dear  friend,  how  precious  is  a 
merciful  Saviour  in  the  eyes  of  a  dying  sinner !  When  the  heart  and 
flesh  fail,  he  can  adopt  the  triumphant  language  of  Simeon,  and  say, 
"  Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation."  You  will  never,  my  dear  friend,  to  all  eter- 
nity, be  able  sufficiently  to  magnify  the  riches  of  Divine  grace,  in 
adopting  you  into  the  family  of  the  Redeemer,  and  making  you  "  an 
heir  of  glory." 

I  earnestly  hope  the  spectacle  they  have  witnessed  will  have  a  most 
beneficial  effect  upon  the  younger  branches  of  your  family,  in  con- 
firming pious  resolutions,  and  convincing  of  the  emptiness,  the  nothing- 
ness, of  all  which  the  world  admires,  compared  to  an  interest  in  Christ, 
and  a  preparation  for  heaven.  In  the  prospect  of  life  there  are  manif 
things  which  are  adapted  to  animate  and  support ;  in  the  near  approach 
of  death,  there  is  but  "  the  hope  of  glory."  It  is  my  earnest  prayer  that 
this  hope  may  slicd  its  briglitest  beams  on  the  mind  of  my  dear  and 
highly  esteemed  friend.  As  to  myself,  my  health  is  in  such  a  state 
that  1  can  say  nothing  of  the  future  :  but  your  wishes  will  be  with  me 


LETTERS.  291 

so  far  a  law,  that  if  my  complaint  will  permit  me  during  the  early 
part  of  the  summer,  I  shall  accede  to  Mr.  Price's  request,  by  officiating 

at  the  opening  of  his  meeting-house. 

*  ******* 

Earnestly  praying  that  every  blessing  maybe  communicated  to  you 
which  a  covenant  God  has  to  bestow,  I  remain 

Your  most  affectionate  Friend  and  Brother, 

Robert  Hall.* 


LXXXVI. 

TO  EBENEZER  FOSTER,  ESQ.,  CAMBRIDGE. 

My  dear  Sir,  Bristol,  Feb.  5,  1831. 

I  acknowledge  not  sooner  answering  yours. 

*  ******* 

I  have  little  or  no  intelligence  to  communicate,  further  than  that  our 
city  is  much  agitated  by  political  discussion  and  the  strife  of  parties. 
A  meeting  was  lately  held  of  the  friends  of  reform,  to  petition  on  its 
behalf;  but  it  was  most  stormy  and  tempestuous.  Though  all  con- 
curred in  the  general  object,  violent  disputes  arose  on  minor  points, 
which  distracted  the  discussion,  and  rendered  it  a  scene  of  tumult  and 
uproar.  Such,  of  late,  has  been  the  general  character  of  public 
meetings  at  Bristol.  For  my  part,  I  never  attend  tliem.  Indeed,  the 
complaint  in  my  back  renders  it  impossible  for  me  to  stand  ;  and  to  lie 
down  would  neither  be  decent  or  practicable. 

Conversation  is  almost  entirely  occupied  by  the  all-absorbing  theme 
of  politics ;  nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  when  we  consider  the  equivo- 
cal and  anomalous  state  of  this  and  of  almost  all  other  countries. 
Some  great  crisis  appears  to  be  approaching,  which  will  probably 
shake  Europe  to  its  centre,  and  produce  some  entire  new  order  of 
things.  Shall  we  ultimately  escape  a  war  ?  I  have  great  confidence 
in  the  pacific  views  of  our  present  mmistry,  but  less  in  their  continuing 
in  power ;  nor  do  I  perceive  what  measures  they  can  adopt  that  will 
materially  alleviate  the  distress  of  the  lower  orders ;  and,  unless  this 
can  be  done,  a  [great  convulsion]  is,  I  fear,  inevitable.  At  all  events, 
one  great  source  of  consolation  remains :  "  the  Lord  reigneth ;  and 
blessed  are  all  they  that  put  their  trust  in  him." 

By-ihe-way,  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  find  that  attempts  are  making 
in  London  to  dissolve  the  union  between  the  orthodox  and  the  Socinian 
[dissenters.]  I  most  heartily  wish  them  success.  It  is  a  most  unnat- 
ural and  preposterous  union,  and  tends,  above  any  thing  else,  to  give 
an  imposing  air  of  importance  to  the  Socinian  [party,]  which,  but  for 
this  coalition,  would  sink  into  insignificance.     It  is  odious  in  the  eyes  of 

*  This  letter  did  not  reach  Shelford  until  the  day  after  the  death  of  the  excellent  individual  to 
whom  it  \vas  addressed.— Ed. 

T2 


293  LETTERS. 

pious  churchmen,  and  tends  to  throw  a  disguise  over  the  real  state  of 
the  dissenters,  in  relation  to  their  religious  tenets.  But  I  must  close, 
and  am  afraid  I  have  already  occupied  too  much  of  your  valuable  time. 
Mrs.  Hall  and  my  family  are  in  tolerable  health,  and  desire  to  unite 
with  me  in  most  affectionate  regards  to  you  and  your  family,  and  to 

your  dear  brother  and  his  family,  Mr. and  his  lady,  &c.  &c.     I 

Avould  just  add,  that  I  [derived]  considerable  benefit,  in  relation  to  the 
determination  of  blood  to  the  lungs,  [from]  my  visit  to  Cheltenham. 
I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 
Your  most  affectionate  and  obliged  Friend, 

Robert  Hall.* 

*  This  letter ,was  WTitten  only  four  days  before  Mr.  Hall's  last  illness,  and  sixteen  before  his 
death.— Ed. 


SERMONS. 


SERMONS. 


THE  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

Isaiah  xxxi.  3. — The  Egyptians  are  men,,  and  not  God;  and  their 
horses  flesh,  and  not  spirit* 

[preached    at   CAMBKIDGE,    APRIL    14,    1822,    AND    AT    BRISTOL    IN    AUGUST,    1824.] 

Among  the  sins  to  which  the  ancient  IsraeHtes  were  addicted,  one 
of  the  most  prevailing  was,  a  disposition,  in  seasons  of  invasion  or 
calamity,  to  place  confidence  in  the  power  of  surrounding  nations,  and 
to  seek  the  assistance  of  their  sovereigns,  instead  of  trusting  in  the 
living  God.  By  this  they  frequently  incurred  Divine  chastisement,  and 
in  some  instances  even  Divine  dereliction.  Egypt,  being  the  largest 
monarchy  in  their  immediate  neighbourhood,  was  frequently  their 
refuge  in  times  of  distress  and  difficulty.  Their  guilt  in  thus  departing 
from  God  was  greatly  aggravated,  on  account  of  the  intimate  relation  . 
to  them  which  he  sustained  as  their  king  and  sovereign,  by  virtue  of 
which  he  had  engaged  to  protect  them  by  his  mighty  power  so  long 
as  they  adhered  to  his  service  and  allegiance ;  while  the  frequent 
manifestation  of  his  uncontrollable  dominion  over  the  natural  world 
displayed  in  the  signal  deliverances  he  had  wrought  for  them,  rendered 
the  transfer  of  their  confidence  from  him  to  "  an  arm  of  flesh"  equally 
criminal  and  foolish.  "  Wo  to  them,"  saith  the  prophet,  "  that  go 
down  to  Egypt  for  help ;  and  stay  on  horses,  and  trust  in  chariots, 
because  they  are  many ;  and  in  horsemen,  because  they  are  very 
strong ;  but  they  look  not  unto  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  neither  seek 
the  Lord  !"t  Then  in  a  strain  of  pointed  irony  he  severely  reproves 
their  preference,  by  reminding  them  that  God  possessed  those  qualities 
of  foresight  and  force  which  justified  entire  dependence ;  and  that 
whatever  grounds  for  confidence  they  fancied  to  exist  in  the  character 
of  the  Egyptian  potentate,  were  found  in  a  degree  infinitely  greater  in 
that  of  the  Almighty — "  Yet  he  also  is  wise,  and  will  bring  evil,  and 

*  Printed  from  the  notes  of  Joshua  Wilson,  Esq.    See  p.  16-19,  for  Mr.  Hall's  brief  notes  of 
the  same  sermon . 
t  Isaiah  xxxi.  1. 


296  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

will  not  call  back  his  words"  (alluding  to  the  conduct  of  Pharaoh,' 

wlio  had  often  broken  the  promises  and  violated  the  engagements  he 
had  made) :  "  but  will  arise  against  the  house  of  the  evil-doers,  and 
against  the  help  of  them  that  work  iniquity."  He  will  not  only  arise 
against  the  workers  of  iniquity,  but  against  their  helpers  also  ;  and  will 
cause  them  all  to  fail  together ;  "  for  the  Egyptians  are  men,  and  not 
God  ;  and  their  horses  flesh,  and  not  spirit."  In  these  words  we  are 
reminded  of  an  important  and  infinite  disparity  between  God  and  man  ; 
arising  from  a  great  peculiarity  in  the  character  of  the  former,  which 
rendered  the  Egyptian  monarch  and  his  cavalry  infinitely  inferior  to 
Him  in  power,  and  all  those  other  qualities  which  entitle  the  possessor 
of  them  to  confidence  and  trust. 

It  is  my  design  to  suggest  to  you  some  of  those  views  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  Supreme  Being,  inseparably  connected  with  the  spirituality 
of  his  nature,  wherein  he  stands  contrasted  with  all  other  beings 
whatever. 

I.  The  spirituality  of  the  Deity  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
possession  of  that  infinite  unlimited  power  which  renders  him  the 
proper  object  of  entire  confidence. 

There  is  a  vulgar  prejudice  in  favour  of  matter  and  agamst  spirit,  as 
if  the  former  were  possessed  of  great  force,  wliile  the  latter  is  only  in- 
vested with  a  feeble  degree  of  energy.  Hence,  in  contemplating  the 
operations  of  the  elements  of  nature  producing  great  and  important 
changes,  we  are  apt  to  think  of  matter,  and  of  matter  in  its  most  gross 
and  palpable  form.  This  prejudice  arises  from  our  mistaking  second- 
ary and  remote  effects  for  causes,  allowing  them  therefore  to  ter- 
minate our  view,  instead  of  ascending  from  those  laws  of  nature  M'hich 
God  has  established,  to  himself  the  supreme  cause.  These  changes 
certainly  indicate  the  existence  of  great  power,  which,  at  the  first  view, 
we  are  apt  to  connect  with  the  material  part  of  the  system.  We  are 
also  acquainted  in  a  measure  with  the  mechanical  forces,  and,  seeing 
that  these  are  exerted  through  the  medium  of  matter,  we  are  thence 
led  to  suppose  that  to  be  the  source  of  power.  We  find  that  we  are 
incapable  of  operating  on  matter,  of  moving  even  an  atom  by  a  mere 
act  of  our  will ;  a  material  medium  is  necessary  to  enable  us  to  produce 
the  slightest  change  on  the  olijects  of  nature ;  and  if  a  material  sub- 
stance is  brought  to  bear  upon  them,  the  most  important  effects  are 
produced.  We  have  no  power  of  operating  on  the  objects  immediately 
around  us,  but  by  means  of  our  bodies ;  and  the  changes  that  take 
place  are  alwaj^s  connected  with  certain  motions  in  them,  which  enable 
us  to  come  into  contact  with  the  visible  world.  Hence  we  are  apt  to 
terminate  our  ideas  of  power  in  matter.  But  in  these  cases  it  is  mind, 
and  mind  alone,  wliich  is  the  seat  of  power.  The  influence  which  our 
bodies  have  upon  other  bodies,  whereby  their  relative  position  is 
changed,  is  merely  a  secondary  cfl'ect — an  eflect  of  that  act  of  will 
which  produces  the  motion  of  our  bodies.  The  power  by  which  all 
changes  are  effected  through  tlie  instrumentality  of  the  body  resides 
immediately  in  the  mind.  It  is  that  mysterious  principle,  called  Will, 
which  the  Divine  Being  has  invested  with  a  control  over  the  various 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  297 

parts  of  our  bodies ;  nor  have  we  power  to  alter  the  state  of  a  single 
external  thing,  in  the  least  degree,  except  by  means  of  volition,  which 
is  a  mental  power,  operating  immediately  upon  the  body.  No  other 
account  can  be  given  of  this  capacity,  but  that  the  Divine  Being  has 
endowed  us  with  instantaneous  control  over  the  muscular  parts  of  our 
bodies.  We  can  conceive  nothing  intermediate  between  the  act  of  the 
will  and  the  movement  of  the  muscles.  So  complete  indeed  is  the 
dominion  of  muid  over  matter,  that  the  moment  we  will  a  certain 
motion  in  the  body,  it  takes  place,  and  thus  only  are  we  enabled  to 
efiect  changes  in  the  system  of  surrounding  nature.  We  probably 
derive  our  idea  of  power  from  the  changes  we  see  effected  in  this 
manner ;  but  all  these  changes  resolve  themselves  into  acts  of  tiie 
will.  It  is  therefore  plain  that  power  resides  in  the  mind,  and  that 
matter  is  in  these  respects  only  the  instrument  of  mind,  which  in  the 
first  instance  acts,  which  alone  properly  acts,  and  becomes  the  author 
of  all  the  subsequent  changes.  Mind,  indeed,  to  a  certain  extent,  and 
within  a  certain  sphere,  is  absolute  power ;  and  whatever  motions  it 
wills  instantly  take  place.  Though  we  are  far  from  supposing  for  a 
moment  that  the  Divine  Being  is  the  soul  of  the  universe,  or  that  he 
bears  the  same  relation  to  the  visible  world  as  the  soul  does  to  the 
body — a  notion  replete  with  absurdity  and  impiety ;  yet  the  power 
which  the  mind  exerts  over  the  whole  of  our  corporeal  system  may 
afibrd  an  apt  illustration  of  that  control  which  the  Deity  exercises  over 
the  universe.  We  will  a  certain  motion  in  the  muscles  of  our  body, 
and  immediately  it  takes  place  ;  nothing  is  perceived  to  intervene  be- 
tween the  act  of  the  will  and  the  subsequent  motion.  By  the  mysterious 
constitution  of  our  nature,  we  are  capable,  from  a  very  early  period  of 
life,  of  putting  into  instantaneous  motion  the  right  set  of  muscles  for 
producing  a  certain  change ;  but  nothing  intervenes  between  the 
volition  and  the  change.  In  vain  do  we  inquire  how  this  takes  place, 
because  we  can  find  nothing  which  comes  between  the  operation  of 
the  will  and  the  change  produced  in  our  corporeal  frame. 

Conceive  the  Divine  Being  as  a  spirit,  having  the  same  dominion 
over  the  invisible  universe,  in  every  part  of  space,  as  that  which  our 
minds  possess  over  every  portion  of  our  bodies ;  and  then  you  will 
perceive,  faintly  at  least,  the  origin  of  that  power  the  indications  of 
which  are  so  visible  throughout  the  universe.-  He  has  only  to  will 
the  most  important  changes,  and  they  are  instantly  accomplished. 
"  He  speaks,  and  it  is  done  ;  he  commands,  and  it  stands  fast."  "  He 
said.  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light."  No  causes  intervene 
between  the  volition  and  the  change  which  ensues,  for  the  will  of  the 
Deity  is  itself  the  effect.  Being  an  infinite  Spirit,  and  coming  into 
immediate  contact  with  all  parts  of  the  universe,  he  is  capable,  by  a 
mere  act  of  will,  of  effecting  all  possible  changes  in  the  same  manner, 
but  in  an  infinitely  higher  degree,  as  we  are  capable,  by  an  act  of  our 
will,  of  causing  certain  motions  in  the  muscular  parts  of  our  body,  and 
thus  producing  changes  in  the  external  objects  around  us. 

We  shall  find  it  impossible  to  give  any  account  of  innumerable 
changes  which  are  continually-  taking  place  in  the  visible  world,  with- 


298  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

out  tracing  them  up  to  mind.  There  cannot  be  a  clearer  proof  of  a 
Deity  than  the  existence  of  motion.  This  evidently  appears  not  to 
be  essential  to  matter,  because  we  see  a  very  great  portion  of  the 
material  universe  without  it.  Not  being  therefore  an  original  state  of 
matter,  but  merely  an  hicident,  it  must  be  an  effect.  But  since  matter, 
not  being  intelligent,  cannot  be  the  cause  of  its  own  motion,  and  yet 
we  cannot  conceive  of  any  atom  beginning. to  move  witliout  a  cause, 
that  cause  must  be  found  out  of  itself.  Whatever  may  be  the  nearest 
cause,  or  the  number  of  secondary  causes,  though  innumerable  por- 
tions of  matter  may  be  reciprocally  moved, — though  the  series  of  linlis 
in  the  chain  through  wliich  motion  is  propagated  may  be  indefinitely 
mukiplied, — we  must,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  origin  of  these  various 
phenomena,  ascend  to  mind,  terminate  our  inquiries  in  spirit ;  nor  can 
we  account  for  the  beginning,  much  less  for  the  continuance  and 
extension  of  motion,  unless  we  trace  it  to  the  will  of  that  Being  wlio 
is  the  cause  of  all  causes — the  great  original  mover  in  the  universe. 
Power  is,  therefore,  the  attribute  of  mind  ;  instrumentality  that  of  body. 
When  we  read  in  the  Old  Testament  of  the  most  exalted  achieve- 
ments ascribed  to  angelic  spirits,  we  cannot  suppose  that  it  is  owing 
to  any  gross  materialism  which  they  possess  ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
have  no  bodies  capable  of  being  investigated  by  our  senses ;  and  in 
proportion  as  they  are  more  attenuated  do  they  possess  greater  power. 
We  have  reason  to  believe  that  all  finite  minds  are  under  the  direction 
of  the  Supreme  Power,  who,  without  destroying  their  accountability  or 
interfering  with  their  free  agency,  makes  all  their  operations  subser- 
vient to  the  accomplishment  of  his  counsels.  Hence  all  opposition  to 
the  Deity  is  beautifully  represented  by  Isaiah,  as  if  the  instrument 
should  rebel  against  him  that  wields  it,  as  if  "  the  rod  should  shake 
itself  against  them  that  lift  it  up ;"  or  "  the  staff  should  lift  up  itself 
against  him  that  is  no  wood."*  All  created  beings,  in  this  respect, 
are  but  instruments  in  the  hand  of  the  Deity,  whose  will  is  sovereign 
over  them. 

The  Divine  Being,  as  the  great  Father  of  Spirits,  combines  within 
himself  all  the  separate  energies  found  in  the  universe.  He  is  the 
source,  origin,  and  fountain  of  all  power  diffused  through  creation. 
The  very  minds  which  he  has  formed  are  kept  in  mysterious  subordi- 
nation, and  can  never  overstep  the  bounds  he  has  assigned  them. 
"  Once  have  I  heard  this,  that  power  belongs  unto  God." 

II.  The  spirituality  of  God  stands  in  close  and  intimate  connexion 
with  his  invisibility,  or  tliat  property  by  whicli  he  is  completely 
removed  from  the  notice  of  our  senses,  especially  that  of  siglit. 

This  is  one  of  the  perfections  claimed  by  him  in  sacred  writ,  one 
of  the  attributes  wliich  the  Scriptures  ])erpetually  ascribe  to  him.  He 
is  styled  by  the  apostle  Paul,  the  "  King  eternal,  immortal,  i7wisib'te" 
— "  the  blessed  and  only  i'otentate," — "  ichom  no  man  hath  secji,  nor 
can  see.'''\  "  No  7nan"  said  our  Saviour,  "  hath  seen  the  Father  at 
any  time.''''     He  is  the  imrisible  God.     Were  he  the  object  of  sight,  he 

*  Isaiah  x.  15 ;  Bishop  Lovvth's  translation.  f  1  Tim.  vi.  15,  16. 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  299 

must  be  limited.  Whatever  manifestations  he  may  make  of  himself, 
it  is  utterly  impossible  that  his  essence,  or  He  himself,  should  ever  be 
the  object  of  our  corporeal  sensations  ;  for  these  extend  only  to  visible 
and  sensible  objects.  He  cannot  therefore  be  represented  to  the  human 
imagination,  or  be  figured  out  by  any  art  or  skill  of  man,  agreeably  to 
the  sublime  discourse  of  the  apostle  to  the  Athenians.*  He  was 
pleased,  indeed,  in  former  times,  to  afford  to  his  ancient  people  in  the 
wilderness,  and  afterward  in  the  tabernacle  and  the  temple,  some 
outward  tokens  of  his  presence;  but  these  were  not  any  display  of  his 
essence.  Moses,  when  warning  the  people  against  forming  any  graven 
image,  or  picture  of  the  Deity,  expressly  declares  that  they  "saw  no 
manner  of  similitude  on  the  day  that  the  Lord  spake  unto  them  in 
Horeb."t  The  third  commandment  contains  an  express  injunction 
against  exhibiting  any  representation  of  the  Deity  to  the  eyes  of  man- 
kind. Hence  we  may  perceive  the  great  impiety  of  those  sects  of 
Christians  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  especially  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  who  have  attempted  to  paint  and  figure  out  the  persons  of  the 
Trinity,  in  express  contradiction  to  this  divine  edict,  "  Thou  shall  not 
make  to  thyself  any  graven  image,"|  &c. 

The  worship  of  that  erroneous  and  idolatrous  church  consists  very 
much  in  acts  of  homage  paid  to  these  external  representations  ;  and, 
though  her  advocates  profess  that  they  are  offered  to  God  through  them 
as  media,  are  too  often,  we  cannot  but  fear,  terminated  upon  them,  and 
thus  supplant  that  spiritual  worship  which  the  Divine  Being  claims  in 
consequence  of  his  being  a  spirit.  We  need  not  wonder,  therefore,  at 
the  pains  taken  by  that  church  to  suppress  the  second  commandment ; 
entirely  omitting  that  precept  in  some  of  her  formularies,  and  dividing 
another  commandment  into  two,  to  make  up  the  number  ten.  The 
necessary  ell'ect  of  any  attempt  to  exhibit  the  Deity  to  the  human 
senses  by  pictures  or  images,  must  be  to  degrade,  to  an  incalculable 
degree,  our  conceptions  of  him ;  partly  as  it  circumscribes  what  is 
unlimited,  and  partly  as  it  is  adapted  to  mingle  the  passions  and  affec- 
tions of  the  human  nature  with  our  conception  of  the  Divine.  The 
notion  of  an  Infinite  Being  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  any  outward 
figure  or  shape,  which  would  confine,  to  a  certain  determinate  portion 
of  space,  Him  who  declares  of  himself,  '■'■  Do  not  I  Jill  heaven  and 
earth  V  and  thus  limit  the  infinite  presence  and  majesty  of  the  great 
Eternal.  No  sooner  do  men  attempt  to  make  the  Dehy  an  object  of 
their  senses,  than  they  begin  to  think  him  altogether  such  a  one  as 
themselves.  Descending  from  the  high  and  holy  place  where  the 
Divine  Being  dwells,  the  mind,  accustomed  to  contemplate  him  under 
a  visible  form,  gradually  sinks  lower  and  lower  in  approximation  to 
its  own  level,  till  at  last  men  come  to  conceive  of  him  as  compassed 
with  infirmities  like  themselves.  Hence,  where  such  representations 
of  Deity  have  prevailed,  images  of  other  beings,  more  suited  to  their 
gross  taste,  have  been  introduced:  at  first  angels  ;  but  at  length,  by 
a  natural  process,  the  chief  place  in   their  religious  affections  has 

*  Acts  xvii.  24-29.  f  Deut.  iv.  15.  *  Exod.  xx.  4,  5. 


300  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

become  occupied  by  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  other  saints  of  inferior 
character,  who  have  received  much  greater  abundance  of  these  marks 
of  devotion  and  homage  than  the  Supreme  Being  himself.  So  impos- 
sible is  it  for  the  Church  of  Rome  to  purge  itself  from  the  charge  of 
that  idolatry  which  the  Scriptures  most  severely  denounce.  Were 
there  no  other  reason  to  deter  persons  from  the  communion  of  that 
church,  her  profane  tampering  with  the  very  elements  of  devotion,  and 
poisoning  the  first  principles  of  religion,  were  alone  sufllcient  to  in- 
spire all  true  Christians  with  the  utmost  abhorrence.  For  the  same 
authority  which  forbids  the  transfer  of  worship  from  a  right  to  a  wrong 
object,  also  stigmatizes  all  deviation  from  the  prescribed  standard,  in 
the  manner  of  worshipping  the  Divine  Being  himself.  Could  we  see 
nothing  of  a  tendency  to  lead  on  to  greater  abominations  in  this 
"  chamber  of  imagery,"  till  it  terminate  in  hero  and  idol  worship,  nay, 
in  the  worship  of  wood  and  stone,  it  is  expressly  forbidden ;  and 
this  prohibition  is  alone  sufficient  to  stamp  it  with  the  character  of 
impiety. 

III.  That  God  is  a  spirit,  and  not  flesh,  is  inseparably  connected 
with  his  immensity  and  onmipresence,  or  the  capacity  of  being  present 
in  all  parts  of  his  creation. 

Omnipresence  is  an  attribute  which  both  reason  and  scripture  teach 
us  to  ascribe  to  the  Deity,  and  which  he  repeatedly  assumes  to  him- 
self: "Am  I  a  God  at  hand,  saith  the  Lord,  and  not  a  God  afar  off? 
Can  any  hide  himself  in  secret  places  that  I  shall  not  see  him  1  saith 
the  Lord.  Do  not  I  fill  heaven  and  earth  1  saith  the  Lord."*  "  Whi- 
ther," says  the  Psalmist,  "  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit  1  or  whither 
shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  thou  art 
there :  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold  thou  art  there.  If  I  take 
the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea ; 
even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me,  and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me. 
If  I  say,  surely  the  darkness  shall  cover  me,  even  the  night  shall  be 
light  about  me.  Yea,  the  darkness  hideth  not  from  thee  ;  but  the  night 
shineth  as  the  day :  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  thee."t 
We  are  taught  to  believe  that  the  essence  of  the  Divine  Being  is  dif- 
fused over  all  space — that  there  is  not  an  atom  existing  in  its  bound- 
less extent  which  he  does  not  fill  with  his  presence  and  energy.  Were 
his  nature  material  this  could  not  be,  for  the  following  reasons  : 

1.  It  is  necessary  that  matter  should  have  some  figure,  without 
which  we  cannot  even  conceive  it  to  exist,  whether  we  regard  it  as  a 
whole,  and  include  the  aggregate  of  material  substances,  or  look  at 
the  several  portions  of  which  that  aggregate  consists,  and  contemplate 
its  parts  as  having  a  separate  existence.  Figure  seems  essential  to  the 
conception  of  all  matter ;  but  that  which  has  any  assignable  figure 
must  be  circumscribed  within  a  certain  outline ;  there  must,  then,  be 
some  point  of  space  where  it  terminates,  and  where  vacuity  begins, 
consequently  it  must  be  limited.  To  conceive,  therefore,  of  the  Divine 
Being  as  material,  would  be  to  involve  ourselves  in  absurdity;  for 

*  Jer.  xxiii.  23,  24.  t  Ps.  c.\x.\ix.  7-12. 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  301 

matter  infinitely  extended  implies  a  contradiction,  by  uniting  two  op- 
posite and  irreconcilable  suppositions. 

2.  If  matter  were  unlimited  there  would  be  no  possibility  of  motion ; 
but  this  is  a  supposition  contrary  to  fact  and  experience ;  for  we  per- 
ceive that  motion  everywhere  exists.  It  is  obvious  that  there  could 
be  no  motion  unless  there  were  some  space  not  previously  occupied 
by  body.  In  a  perfect  plenum,  motion  would  be  impossible,  because 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  conceiving  that  space  into  Avhich  the 
first  moving  body  might  pass. 

3.  If  the  Divine  Being  were  material,  it  would  be  impossible  that  he 
should  be  infinite  in  his  essence,  fill  all  space,  penetrate  all  substances, 
pervade  all  minds ;  because,  on  that  supposition,  he  would  render  im- 
possible the  co-existence  of  created  beings^  We  cannot  conceive  of 
two  portions  of  matter  occupying  the  same  part  of  space.  Were  the 
Deity  therefore  material,  he  must  exclude  from  the  space  he  occupies 
all  other  matter ;  and  since  he  is  infinite,  that  exclusion  must  be  per- 
fect and  entire :  but  this,  being  contrary  to  physical  fact,  is  certainly 
contrary  to  intellectual  truth.  Whereas  God,  being  a  spirit,  subsists 
in  a  totally  different  manner  from  all  material  substances  ;  his  manner 
of  existence  being  altogether  peculiar  to  himself,  and  such  as  we  cannot 
adequately  conceive.  It  follows,  however,  that  any  material  substance 
and  the  Divine  Being  are  capable  of  being  present  in  the  same  place, 
at  the  same  time,  without  destroying  each  other's  properties  and  attri- 
butes. Such  a  Being  also  can  be  equally  present  at  one  and  the  same 
moment  in  innumerable  myriads  of  worlds,  and  to  all  parts  of  the 
universe 


The  Infinite  Spirit  is  present  with  every  part  of  his  creation,  as  in- 
timately as  the  soul  of  man  is  present  throughout  all  the  parts  of  that 
corporeal  substance  which  it  animates  and  sustains.  His  essence  is 
diffused  over  all  space.  He  is  intimately  present  with  all  his  creatures, 
as  intimately  as  they  are  to  themselves,  is  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  thoughts  of  all  intelligent  beings,  unites  himself  with  the  very  con- 
stitution of  their  nature.  They  exist  within  the  grasp  of  his  omnipo- 
tence, within  the  perpetual  comprehension  of  his  presence,  within 
the  sphere  of  his  energy,  and  the  light  of  his  countenance.  "  In  him 
they  live,  and  move,  and  have  their  being."  We  frequently  speak  oi" 
God  dwelling  in  the  world,  by  the  manifestations  of  his  power  and 
providence  ;  but  it  may  with  equal  truth  be  said,  that  the  world  dwells 
in  God ;  all  creatures  being  surrounded  by  his  presence,  and  enclosed 
in  his  essence.  We  cannot  for  a  moment  conceive  of  such  a  being  as 
separated  from  any  part  of  the  universe,  or  point  of  space  :  all  creatures, 
spiritual  and  material,  subsist  in  Him  who,  maintaining  his  own  sepa- 
rate existence  distinct  from  the  external  world,  exercises  absolute  uni- 
versal dominion  over  all  the  beings  he  has  formed.  This  particular 
property  of  his  nature,  this  peculiar  mode  of  his  existence,  renders  him 
capable  of  being  the  all-comprehending  God,  of  holding  in  his  own 
hand  all  the  innumerable  creatures  he  has  formed. 


302  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

IV.  Because  God  is  a  spirit,  and  not  flesh,  he  is  possessed  of  infinite 

wisdom  and  intelHgence. 

This  seems  to  be  a  necessary  properly  of  that  Being,  who,  himself 
unbounded  and  fiUing  all  thmgs,  must  be  present  to  all  his  creatures  at 
all  times,  with  the  same  plenitude  of  perfection  as  at  the  first  moment 
of  their  creation.  We  cannot  conceive  for  a  moment  of  any  interval 
between  him  and  them,  which  might  exclude  them  from  his  view.  They 
must  ever  be  in  immediate  contact  with  him,  and  tlie  objects  of  his 
perpetual  vision.  He  is  not  obliged  to  change  his  place  in  order  to 
observe  and  take  cognizance  of  them.  This  presence  of  God  with 
liis  creatures  being  infinite  and  eternal,  his  infinite  acquaintance  with 
them  seems  to  be  a  necessary  consequence.  He  that  formed  all 
things  does  not  quii  any  portion  of  his  vast  empire  when  he  retires  to 
"  the  high'  and  secret  place  of  his  sanctuary :"  he  needs  not  to  vary 
his  position  towards  his  creatures,  in  order  to  obtain  a  more  advan- 
tageous situation,  or  catch  the  benefit  of  changing  lights,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  a  more  accurate  scrutiny  of  any  of  them  !  Every  one 
is  as  much  within  his  survey  at  one  moment  as  at  another  ;  he  is  con- 
tinually present  to  them,  with  the  same  plenitude  of  power  as  that 
which  was  exerted  in  their  formation  out  of  nothing.  Every  movement, 
both  of  spirit  and  matter,  is  performed  "  in  him,"  and  must  therefore 
be  immediately  within  his  notice.  It  is  impossible  that  any  thing 
should  elude  or  escape  the  light  of  his  countenance,  or  that  any  dark- 
ness should  cover  from  his  view  those  beings  which  he  has  created. 
Hence  he  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  thoughts  of  all  hearts,  and 
the  secret  springs  of  all  the  actions  of  his  rational  intelligent  creatures. 
We  are  obliged  to  judge  of  men's  character  by  their  actions  ;  he  judges 
of  their  actions  by  their  motives  :  we  can  only  trace  the  streams,  and 
by  them  judge  of  the  fountain  whence  they  proceed ;  he  penetrates 
the  hidden  spring  and  source:  we  form  a  few  conjectures  of  what  is 
passing  in  man,  by  the  outward  exhibitions  of  his  conduct ;  he,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  knowledge  he  possesses  of  the  very  constitution  of  those 
beings  who  have  been  called  into  existence  by  his  divine  power, 
detects  at  once  the  secret  springs  of  all  their  actions. — "  Man  looketh 
on  the  outward  appearance,  but  the  Lord  looketh  at  the  heart."  He 
qualifies  all  our  actions  by  immediate  attention  to  the  motives  whence 
they  proceed :  the  motive  is  that  which  determines  the  action  in  his 
sight,  and  his  judgment  is  always  according  to  truth.  "  By  him  actions 
are  weighed."  While  we  are  continually  liable  to  be  mistaken,  and 
our  judgments  and  censures,  often  rash  and  misplaced,  are  always  un- 
certain ;  his  eye  pierces  the  thickest  shades  of  darkness.  The  gloom 
of  midnight  and  the  splendour  of  noon  are  only  distinctions  with  respect 
to  us  ;  in  regard  to  him,  there  is  no  difl'erence  :  "  With  him  the  night 
shinclh  as  tlic  day,  the  darkness  and  tlie  light  are  both  alike  to  him." 
There  can  be  no  folly  therefore  so  great  as  for  a  creature  to  attempt 
to  conceal  himself  from  the  inspection  and  scrutiny  of  his  Maker.  He 
is  within  us  :  "in  him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being."  We 
need  no  other  proof  that  he  knows  the  secrets  of  the  heart,  than  iliat 
he  is  present  with  its  most  liidden  recesses.    Hence,  in  the  Psalm 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE,  308 

already  referred  to,  the  Psalmist  infers  his  infinite  cognizance  of  his 
creatures,  from  the  fact  of  his  incessant  and  intimate  presence  with 
them.  The  infinite  knowledge  which  God  has  of  his  works  is  indeed 
inseparably  connected  with  this  part  of  his  character.  As  the  Infinite 
Spirit — the  great  Father  of  spirits — he  is  the  source  of  all  the  intelli- 
gence and  wisdom  which  exist  in  created  spirits.  He  must  be  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  all  the  operations  and  results  of  all  other  minds, 
since  he  has  constituted  them,  and  they  are  entirely  the  eflect  of  his 
own  intelligence  and  wisdom.  When  the  heathen  world  lost  sight  of 
the  spirituality  of  God,  they  also  lost  sight  of  his  omniscience ;  and 
after  gradually  sinking  lower  in  proportion  as  they  receded  farther 
from  that  view  of  his  character,  their  notions  of  him  became  at  length 
so  debased  that  they  invested  him  with  a  corporeal  form.  The  spirit- 
uality of  the  Divine  nature,  having  been  attested  by  the  Saviour,  and 
made  one  of  the  principles  of  his  religion,  has  raised  the  conceptions 
of  the  human  mind  far  beyond  what  the  greatest  philosophers  could 
previously  attain ;  and  enabled  children  to  surpass,  in  both  spiritual 
and  intellectual  illumination,  the  sages  of  pagan  antiquity. 

******** 

V.  The  doctrine  of  the  spirituality  of  the  Divine  nature  establishes 
a  most  intimate  relation  between  him  and  all  his  intelligent  creatures : 
it  becomes  a  bond  of  the  most  subtile  union  between  himself  and  the 
intellectual  part  of  the  creation. 

He  stands  in  close  and  intimate  relation  to  all  creatures :  their  de- 
pendence on  him  is  absolute,  their  subjection  to  him  constant  and 
incessant ;  but  in  a  special  manner  is  he  the  Father  of  spirits.  The 
relation  between  father  and  child  is  very  intimate,  but  that  between 
God  and  man  is  much  more  so.  An  earthly  parent  is  but  the  instru- 
ment, God  is  the  author  of  our  existence ;  one  is  the  father  of  the 
flesh,  the  other  of  the  spirit.  In  proportion  as  the  spirit  is  the 
most  important  part  of  human  nature,  this  relation  which  we  sustain 
to  God  is  most  essential,  interesting,  and  extensive.  The  body 
connects  us  with  the  material  universe  around  us ;  the  soul  connects 
us  immediately  with  the  Deity.  At  death,  the  body  returns  to  the 
earth,  its  native  element ;  "  the  spirit  returns  to  God,  that  gave  it." 
The  body  has  a  tendency  to  separate  us  from  God  by  the  dis- 
similarity of  its  nature ;  the  soul,  on  the  contrary,  unites  us  again 
to  him  by  means  of  those  principles  and  faculties  which,  though  in- 
finitely  inferior,  are  of  a  character  congenial  with  his  own.  The 
body  is  the  production  of  God,  the  soul  is  his  image 

To  estrange  ourselves  from  God  is  therefore  to  be  guilty  of  a  new 
and  most  enormous  kind  of  off'ence :  it  is  forgetting  our  proper 
parent, — losing  our  great  portion,  the  very  source  of  our  existence. 
To  love  him,  to  seek  union  with  him  in  the  closest  manner  possible, 
is  to  return  to  our  proper  original, — to  seek  Him  from  whom  all  our 
powers  are  derived,  and  by  whom  alone  they  can  be  sustained  in 
time,  and  must  be  consummated  and  completed  in  eternity.  If  you 
were  to  see  a  person  manifest  no  desire  for  the  presence  of  an  earthly 
parent,  you  would  be  shocked  at  the  spectacle,  and  would  be  ready 


304  SHRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

to  represent  him  as  a  prodigy  of  ingratitude.  How  much  more  would 
it  affect  a  well-constituted  mind  to  behold  a  creature  seeking  estrange- 
ment from  his  Heavenly  Parent^ — living  in  forgetfulness  of  Him ! 
This  would  appear  matter  of  the  greatest  astonishment  were  men  to 
withdraw  themselves  from  sensible  objects,  and  retire  into  their  own 
minds  for  the  purpose  of  serious  reflection.  The  prophet  calls  on 
heaven  and  earth  to  sympathize  with  him  in  this  emotion :  "  Hear,  0 
heavens,  and  give  ear,  O  earth  :  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken,  I  have 
nourished  and  brought  up  children,  and  they  have  rebelled  against 
me."* 

#  *  *  #*  *  *  * 

VI.  The  spirituality  of  the  Divine  nature  renders  him  capable 
of  the  exalted  prerogative  of  being  the  satisfying  portion,  the  supreme 
good  of  all  intelligent  beings. 

It  is  in  consequence  of  being  a  spirit  that  he  is  properly  fitted  to  be 
the  Supreme  Good ;  not  merely  the  dispenser  of  those  outward 
benefits  which  gratify  the  corporeal  appetites,  and  sustain  our  trans- 
itory state  in  this  world ;  not  only  the  author,  but  the  immediate 
source,  the  very  element  of  our  happiness — in  consequence  of  those 
properties  of  his  nature  which  are  congenial  with  our  own.  Many  are 
Avilling  to  acknowledge  their  dependence  on  the  power  and  providence 
of  God  for  those  gootl  things  the  possession  of  which  the  world  calls 
happiness,  such  as  riches,  honours,  pleasures;  they  expect  to  be 
made  happy  by  means  of  his  influence  over  inferior  creatures,  exerted 
in  putting  things  in  a  train  for  that  purpose.  But  the  devout  man 
ascends  to  God  himself,  as  the  source  and  spring  of  happiness,  in 
the  contemplation  of  whom,  and  in  whose  friendship  and  love,  con- 
sists eternal  life:  he  regards  him  as  the  highest  good,  the  source 
of  felicity  to  the  intelligent  universe,  the  very  principle  of  good. 
The  Psalmist  recognised  the  Divine  Being  under  this  character,  and 
he  has  been  so  recognised  by  the  faithful  in  every  age  and  everj' 
nation ;  "  The  Lord  is  my  portion,  saith  my  soul ;  therefore  will  I 
hope  in  him.  The  Lord  is  good  unto  them  that  wait  for  him,  to  the 
soul  that  seeketh  him."t  We  find  holy  men  casting  their  eyes  round 
upon  all  that  is  in  heaven  and  on  earth  ....  then  collecting  all  into 
one  great  aggregate,  and  solemnly  rclinquisiiing  the  whole,  trampling 
it  in  the  dust,  in  order  to  ascend  to  God  and  rest  in  his  love. 
*'  Whom,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "  have  I'  in  heaven  but  thee,  and  there 
is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee ;  my  flesh  and  my  heart 
faileth,  but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart  and  my  portion  for  ever. 
My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  my  heart  and  my  flesh  cry  out  for  tlie 
living  God,"  To  know  thee,  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ 
whom  thou  hast  sent,  this,  this  is  life  eternal.  The  Divine  Being 
not  only  sustains  towards  us  the  character  of  a  governor,  ruling  our 
wills  by  his  holy  law,  but  is  also  the  chief  object  of  our  aflections ; 
and  we  never  know  him  aright  till  we  feel  thus  towards  him,  till  we 
obey  him  from  the  heart,  perceiving  in  him  that  which  is  suited  to  the 
nature  of  our  immortal  minds,  and  resting  in  him  as  our  eternal  and 

*  Isaiah  i.  2.  t  Lam.  iii.  24, 25 ;  PtaUn  Ixxiii.  25,  20. 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  305 

unchanging  portion.  If  you  do  not  ascend  as  high  as  this,  you  will 
never  rind  any  rest  for  your  soul;  you  will  wander  through  eternity 
restless  and  unsatisfied :  "  The  height  will  say,  It  is  not  in  me  ;  and 
the  depth,  It  is  not  in  me  ;"  and  every  voice  will  answer  us  with  scorn 
unless  we  listen  to  that  which  now  issues  from  the  secret  presence 
of  the  Almighty ;  "  acquaint  thyself  with  me,  and  be  at  peace."  All 
that  we  can  derive  from  creatures  is  partial,  scanty,  limited,  and  pre- 
carious ;  and  even  that  is  the  effect  of  his  power,  the  fruit  of  his 
munificence  :  but  with  Him  is  the  fountain  of  life,  "  in  his  presence 
is  fulness  of  joy,  at  his  right  hand  are  pleasures  for  evermore."  He 
manifests  himself  to  his  people,  as  he  does  not  to  the  world.  The 
communion  they  enjoy  with  the  Father  of  their  spirits  forms  an 
essential  part  of  the  experience  of  all  real  Christians.  How  inti- 
mately this  is  connected  with  the  spirituality  of  the  Divine  nature 
will  appear,  if  you  consider  a  few  things  which  naturally  arise  from 
a  view  of  the  present  subject. 

1.  That  which  constitutes  the  felicity  of  the  mind  must  be  some- 
thing out  of  it.  Whoever  retires  into  his  own  mind  for  happiness 
will  soon  find  himself  miserable ;  he  will  feel  imprisoned  till  he  is 
permitted  to  go  forth  and  unite  himself  in  affection  and  confidence  to 
something  out  of  himself.  Hence  those  who  are  most  insulated,  and 
cut  ofl'  from  all  contact  with  others,  are  styled,  by  way  of  distinction, 
misers,  and  are  truly  the  most  miserable  of  men.  There  cannot  be  a 
greater  picture  of  abject  wretchedness  than  a  man,  entirely  confined 
to  himself,  possessing  none  of  those  sensibilities  which  attach  mind 
to  mind,  and  heart  to  heart, — a  stranger  to  that  reciprocation  of  feel- 
ing and  affection  between  kindred  minds  which  is  the  very  balm  of 
life.  But  where  shall  we  find,  out  of  ourselves,  that  which  is  not, 
like  ourselves,  changing,  uncertain,  and  liable  to  decay,  except  in  God, 
the  Eternal  Spirit,  who,  being  essentially  incorruptible  and  immortal, 
is  qualified  to  be  the  everlasting,  inexhaustible  spring  of  satisfaction  to 
all  his  intelligent  creatures?  In  fellowship  with  him  may  be  enjoyed 
to  the  uttermost  all  that  is  tender  and  delightful  in  the  emotions  which 
friendship  is  adapted  to  inspire,  at  the  same  time  that  in  the  contem- 
plation of  all  those  great  and  excellent  quaUties  which  elevate  and 
dignify  his  character,  may  be  awakened  the  awe  which  vastness  and 
power  are  fitted  to  excite  ;  and  both  together  may  well  be  supposed 
capable  of  filling  the  mind  with  a  calm  and  peaceful  rapture  to 
eternity.  If  the  friendship  of  a  fellow-creature  be  capable  of  afford- 
ing such  exquisite  delight,  how  divine  a  delectation  must  flow  from 
union  of  heart  with  the  Deity  ! 

2.  He  who  can  always  confer  happiness  on  another  being  must  be 
superior  to  that  being.  To  be  the  source  of  happiness  is  the  highest 
prerogative,  the  greatest  pre-eminence,  that  one  being  can  possess 
over  another ;  it  is,  in  fact,  to  be  his  God.  It  is  plain  that  we  must 
look  higher  than  ourselves,  and  trust  to  the  intervention  of  a  power 
greatly  superior  to  our  own,  for  the  source  and  perpetuity  of  our 
happiness.  Hence  the  Psalmist  prays,  "  "When  my  heart  is  over- 
whelmed within  me,  lead  me  to  the  Rock  that  is  higher  than  I."     The 

Vol.  III.— U 


306  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

Divine  Being  possesses  this  qualification  in  the  highest  degree :  he  is 
the  Infinite  Spirit ;  to  Him   alone  it  belongs  to  say  to  any  created 

being,  "  I  will  be  thy  God." He  only  is  capable  of  bestowing 

and  assuring  true,  permanent,  unchanging  felicity,  at  all  periods,  and 
through  all  duration  ;  of  doing,  in  short,  "  exceeding  abundantly  above 
all  that  we  ask  or  think,  according  to  his  riches  in  glory  by  Christ 
Jesus."  The  earth,  in  this  respect,  with  all  its  riches,  is  indigent; 
even  the  splendour  of  immortality  is  dark,  as  to  any  power  capable 
of  guiding  man  to  happiness,  independently  of  the  Great  Eternal. 
It  belongs  to  him  as  the  Father  of  spirits  ;  for  he  alone  possesses  that 
power  and  dominion  over  all  beings  which  is  necessary  hi  order  to 
render  him  the  portion  and  happiness  of  his  people. 

3.  That  in  which  the  happiness  of  a  rational  and  mental  creature 
consists  must  be  congenial  to  the  nature  of  that  creature.  The  body 
may  be  made  happy  by  corporeal  objects,  adapted  to  gratify  its  senses ; 
mind  can  never  be  made  happy  except  by  mental  objects.  It  rejects 
with  contempt  and  disdain  all  sensible  delights  as  its  portion.  The 
understanding  must  be  satisfied  with  the  light  of  truth,  or  we  cannot, 
as  rational  creatures,  be  free  from  disquietude  ;  the  aff'ections  must  be 
satisfied  in  the  lovely  qualities  of  character,  before  the  heart  can  find 
rest.  Where  these  requisites  are  wanting,  men  often  languish  in  the 
midst  of  plenty;  though  surrounded  by  the  means  of  enjoyment, 
cast  a  lingering,  despairing  view  around  ;  and  sometimes  feel  disposed 
to  envy  tliose  inferior  creatures  which  arc  placed  beneath  the  level 
of  rationality.  But  the  mental  and  spiritual  excellences  and  per- 
fections requisite  to  constitute  the  adequate  portion  of  mental  and 
spiritual  beings,  can  only  be  found  in  God,  who  must  therefore  be  the 
proper  good  of  a  thinking  creature. 

4.  That  which  forms  the  principle  of  our  felicity  must  be  some- 
thing that  is  capable  of  communicating  itself  to  us.  Creatures  solely 
material  are  entirely  incapable  of  doing  this.  Sensual  pleasures  can 
never  reach  our  interior  nature  :  they  are  not  sufficiently  subtile  to  con- 
stitute the  source  of  delight  to  the  mind ;  they  touch  only  the  grosser 
elements  of  our  susceptibility,  and  do  not  penetrate  sufficiently  deep 
to  be  the  proper  basis  of  our  enjoyment.  But  God,  as  he  is  a  Spirit, 
is  capable  of  communicating  himself  to  the  spirits  of  his  rational 
creatures.  Spirit  naturally  comes  into  contact  with  spirit ;  and  this 
communication  of  himself  is  infinitely  easy  to  the  Divine  Being.  He 
can  manifest  himself  to  the  hearts  of  his  people,  disclose  the  glory  of 
his  name  to  them  more  and  more,  open  perpetually  fresh  views  of  his 
character,  give  them  fresh  sensations  of  ineffiible  delight  in  the  con- 
templation of  his  excellence,  lead  them  forward  from  one  department 
of  his  perfections  to  another,  and  make  the  whole  creation  itself  speak 
forth  his  praises.  Thus  may  he  accumulate  the  materials  of  ceaseless 
rapture  to  eternity  ;  elevating  his  worshippers  perpetually  in  adoration, 
at  the  same  time  that  he  lays  them  lower  in  prostration  before  him. 
Hence  we  are  taught  in  the  Scriptures  to  believe  that  these  communi- 
cations and  disclosures  of  himself  by  the  Deity  will  constitute  the 
felicity  of  heaven — this   intimate   union  between  the  hearts  of  his 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVL\E  NATURE.  307 

creatures  and  his  own  essential  character,  there  described  as  the  vision 
of  God,  or  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  him  as  a  Spirit,  will  form  the 
principal  ingredient  of  future  happiness.  Our  Saviour  represents  him- 
self as  the  source  of  this  happiness :  "  Father,  I  will  that  they  also 
whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may 
behold  my  glory."*  The  apostle  Paul,  also,  speaking  of  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  happiness  of  heaven,  describes  it  as  resulting  from  the 
immediate  sight  of  the  Divine  glory.  "  Now  we  see  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  then  shall  we  see  face  to  face  ;  now  I  know  in  part,  then 
shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known." 

Even  while  they  continue  on  earth,  it  is  the  privilege  of  the  faithful 
to  enjoy  that  union  and  alliance  with  the  Father  of  spirits,  through  his 
Son,  by  virtue  of  which  they  become  one  spirit.  They  are,  at  some 
favoured  seasons,  so  filled,  even  to  overflowing,  with  a  sense  of  his 
love,  that  the  wilderness  appears  more  beautiful  than  the  peopled  city. 
At  such  seasons,  though  all  the  evils  that  afflict  the  flesh  may  attempt 
to  assail  the  inuuortal  mind,  he  can  be  so  present  to  the  heart,  and  im- 
part to  the  soul  such  ecstasies  of  enjoyment,  as  will  more  than  over- 
power the  violence  of  pain,  and  even  prevail  over  the  agonies  of  death. 

We  now  proceed  to  a  brief  practical  improvement  of  the  subject 
before  us  : — 

Let  us,  in  contemplating  the  Divine  Being,  endeavour  to  raise  our- 
selves above  the  association  of  our  minds  widi  what  is  sensible,  visible, 
and  corporeal,  and  retire  within  our  own  nature  ;  not  for  the  purpose 
of  seeking  happiness  there,  but  that  we  may  feel  our  necessity  of  God, 
and  perceive  the  demand  which  the  highest  powers  of  our  nature  make 
for  such  a  being,  and  the  impossibility  of  their  finding  rest  but  in  his 
knowledge,  obedience,  and  love.  The  natural  effect  of  communion 
with  ourselves  is  to  convince  us  of  our  own  emptiness  and  nothing- 
ness, at  the  same  time  that  it  indicates  our  native  grandeur,  inasmuch 
as  there  is  nothing  that  can  constitute  our  rational  portion  but  God.  In 
your  calmest  moments,  my  brethren,  you  will  find  that  you  possess  an 
understanding  capable  of  contemplating  God,  and  that  He  only  can  be 
an  adequate  object  to  engage  and  employ  that  understanding,  because 
he  is  the  only  being  capable  of  affording  to  you  light,  happiness,  and 
life,  through  a  boundless  eternity.  You  possess  a  conscience,  which 
gives  a  moral  character  to  all  your  actions,  tinctures  with  an  evil  of  its 
own  peculiar  kind  (the  evil  of  guilt)  whatever  it  condemns,  and  invests 
with  an  attribute  of  moral  beauty  and  rectitude  whatever  it  approves  : 
whence  you  will  perceive  that  you  never  can  be  happy  till  conscience 
is  on  your  side,  till  the  character  of  your  actions  and  thoughts  is  such 
as  will  bear  the  revie^v  of  that  inward  monitor.  To  produce  this  effect 
is  to  harmonize  a  man  with  his  own  conscience, — to  bring  him  to  be 
at  peace  with  himself,  because  at  peace  with  God — to  place  him  on  a 
moral  centre,  where  he  can  rest  self-poised  amid  all  the  fluctuations  of 
the  external  world.  You  will  find  Mdthin  you  susceptibility  which 
recoils  from  pain,  and  thirsts  for  pleasures  ;  not  merely  those  that  are 

*  John  xvii.  24. 

U2 


308  SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE. 

corporeal  in  their  nature,  but  also  mental  and  intellectual,  such  as  those 
which  we  taste  in  friendship,  and  in  the  contemplation  of  virtue  and 
truth.  Hence  you  will  perceive  that  you  never  can  be  truly  and  eter- 
nally happy  till  these  aflections  have  an  adequate  object ;  and  that  never 
will  be  found  except  in  the  supreme,  eternal,  original  Spirit.  He  alone 
can  so  communicate  himself  to  you,  and  give  you  such  a  knowledge 
of  his  character,  and  such  a  sense  of  his  friendship,  as  will  render  you 
in  a  great  measure  independent  of  all  earthly  objects.  You  will  per- 
ceive that  he  is  fitted  to  be  himself  the  sole  and  exclusive  object  of  all 
these  powers  ;  you  will  see  the  propriety  and  beauty  of  that  exclama- 
tion— "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  1  and  there  is  none  upon  earth 
I  desire  in  comparison  of  thee." 

Since  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  we  are  principally  distinguished  by  pos- 
sessing a  rational  and  immortal  nature,  there  must  be  an  everlasting 
connexion  established  between  him  and  us, — eitlier  favourable  or  inju- 
rious, of  reward  or  punishment,  of  mercy  or  justice, — on  which  will 
depend  our  destiny  for  ever.  There  must  be  a  meeting  of  all  finite 
spirits  in  the  presence  of  the  infinite  original  Spirit,  when  an  account 
must  be  given  to  God  of  "  the  deeds  done  in  tlie  body,  whether  they 
be  good  or  evil."  Your  happiness  must  eternally  consist  in  the  favour 
of  that  Being  to  whom  you  are  perpetually  responsible  for  all  the  sen- 
timents of  your  heart,  and  all  the  actions  of  your  life.  If  you  die  in 
a  state  of  disobedience,  impenitence,  and  alienation  from  God,  you  will 
incur  the  doom  denounced  against  those  whom  our  Saviour  threatened, 
that  if  they  believed  not  in  him,  but  rejected  his  mission  and  authority, 
they  should  die  in  their  sins.  A  more  awful  denunciation  who  can 
conceive  1 — "  If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  he,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins ; 
and  whither  I  go  ye  cannot  come." 

The  consequence  will  be,  that  the  Being  whom  you  have  neglected 
and  forgotten  will  be  the  constant  and  eternal  source  of  your  misery. 
You  will  sink  under  his  frown  ;  separation  from  him  will  be  the  great 
cause  of  your  anguish ;  you  will  be  vessels  of  his  wrath ;  you  will 
have  fitted  yourselves,  by  contempt  of  the  supreme  authority,  and 
alienation  from  the  supreme  good,  to  be  for  ever  in  a  state  of  wretched- 
ness, because  of  separation  from  Him  who  is  "  the  fountain  of  living 
water." 

Since  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  we  are  unable  of  ourselves  to  rise  so 
high  as  to  attain  the  favour  and  friendship  of  such  a  Being,  whose 
entirely  spiritual  nature  is  so  subtile  that  it  eludes  our  unassisted  con- 
ception ;  in  order  that  the  worship  of  the  true  God  may  be  adapted  to 
become  the  universal  religion,  Jesus  Christ  has  come  down  to  earth, 
has  assumed  human  nature,  imbodied  the  attributes  of  God  in  an 
incarnate  form,  and  thus  taught  us  the  character  of  the  Deity  in  his  own 
actions.  We  know  the  principles  of  the  Divine  conduct  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world,  by  the  conduct  and  character  of  our  blessed  Saviour 
in  his  life.  He  is  "  the  image  of  the  invisible  God,"  the  only  repre- 
sentation of  Deity  :  "  He  that  hatli  seen  me,"  said  he,  "  hath  seen  the 
Father."  Tiie  design  of  his  coming  into  this  world  was  to  bring  back 
apostate  creatures  to  his  Father ;  "  to  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity" 


SPIRITUALITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  NATURE.  309 

by  the  sap.rifice  of  himself  upon  the  cross ;  and  thus  to  remove  all 
those  impediments  which  spring  from  the  character  of  God  to  accept- 
ance in  his  sight,  and  to  restore  them  to  the  enjoyment  of  his  eternal 
favour.  He  gave  himself  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  justice,  that  a  free 
passage  might  be  opened  to  the  favour  of  his  heavenly  Father  without 
any  impeachment  of  the  Divine  character :  "  that  he  might  be  just,  and 
yet  the  justitier  of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus." 

What  movements  are  in  your  minds,  my  brethren,  with  respect  to 
this  great  object  at  this  time  ?  Are  they  stationary,  or  are  they  moving 
in  a  right  or  a  wrong  direction  ?  Are  you  under  the  guidance  of  Christ, 
seeking  increased  acquaintance  with  him,  aspiring  after  higher  degrees 
of  resemblance  to  him,  fixing  your  hopes  more  firmly  upon  his  prom- 
ises 1  Then  all  things  will  be  favourable  to  you  ;  "  the  world,  or  life, 
or  death,  things  present,  or  things  to  come,  all  are  yours."  You  have 
obeyed  from  the  heart  the  call  of  the  gospel ;  you  have  forsaken  the 
world ;  have  become  dead  to  it  before  you  are  called  to  leave  it ;  and 
have  laid  up  treasure  in  heaven,  having  trusted  your  souls  for  safety 
to  the  Divine  Redeemer ;  "  you  know  whom  you  have  believed,  and 
are  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  you  have  committed 
unto  him  until  that  day."  But  if  your  minds  are  engaged  in  a  con- 
trary direction  ;  if  you  are  seeking  happiness  in  the  things  of  this  world, 
living  in  the  neglect  of  God,  never  raising  your  thoughts  to  the  contem- 
plation of  the  Supreme  Good, — if,  having  rejected  the  great  salvation, 
you  are  content  to  lie  under  the  weight  of  unacknowledged,  and  there- 
fore unpardoned  guilt, — yet,  bear  with  me  while  I  remind  you  that  you 
must  have  a  meeting  with  God ;  you  must  see  the  face  of  that  Divine 
Being  whose  authority  you  have  spurned,  and  feel  the  anger  of  that 
Divine  Redeemer  whom  you  have  rejected.  You  will,  if  you  persist 
in  this  course,  hear  him  pronounce  the  fearful  sentence,  "  Those 
mine  enemies  that  would  not  have  me  to  reign  over  them,  bring  them 
hither  and  slay  them  before  me :"  "  Depart  from  me,  ye  that  work 
iniquity." 

Blessed  be  God,  there  are  those  now  present  who  are  placing  their 
afl'ections  habitually  on  the  great  Supreme,  and  uniting  themselves,  more 
and  more  closely,  to  him  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God.  Let  such  persons 
rejoice  in  the  prospects  before  them.  The  interruptions  which  arise 
from  your  corporeal  state  will  speedily  terminate  ;  the  flesh  shall  then 
no  longer  lust  against  the  spirit,  nor  the  spirit  against  the  flesh ;  but 
you  will  "  do  the  things  that  you  would."  You  have  preferred  the 
interests  of  the  mind  to  those  of  the  body  ;  the  service  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  prospects  of  eternity,  to  all  sublunary  good.  You 
are  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  Chief  Good ;  you  are  hun- 
gering and  thirsting  after  righteousness  ;  and  you  shall  certainly  be 
satisfied.  God  approves  your  choice,  and  will  assist  your  infirmities  ; 
*'  he  will  strengthen  you  with  all  might  by  his  Sp-irit  in  your  inner 
man  ;"  will  "  work  in  you  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  own  good  pleasure  ;" 
and  enable  you  to  "work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling." 

"They  that  sow  to  the  flesh  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption; 


810  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

they  that  sow  to  the  Spirit  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap  life  everlasting." 
Let  us  make  contimial  progress  in  Christian  virtue.  Every  act  of  sin 
has  a  tendency  to  misery.  Every  effort  to  subdue  corruption,  and  to 
live  to  the  will  of  God,  is  a  seed  which,  by  God's  grace,  will  bring 
forth  fruit  to  everlasting  life.  By  patient  continuance  in  well-doing, 
let  us  seek  for  glory,  honour,  and  immortality ;  for  to  such  God  will 
assuredly  recompense  eternal  life :  but  to  those  that  are  disobedient, 
and  do  not  obey  the  truth,  "indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and 
anguish."  "  On  the  wicked  he  will  rain  fire  and  brimstone,  and  an 
horrible  tempest ;  this  shall  be  the  portion  of  their  cup."* 


II. 

THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 
Proverbs  xxv.  2. — It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  thing.\ 

[preached   at  CAMBRIDGE,    SEPTEMBER,    1826.] 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  glory  of  God  appears  more  in 
what  he  displays,  or  in  what  he  conceals,  of  his  operations  and 
designs.  Were  he  to  conceal  every  thing  from  our  view,  it  would  be 
impossible  that  any  glory  could  result  to  him  from  the  sentiments  and 
actions  of  his  creatures.  From  entire  ignorance  nothing  could  arise, 
no  medium  of  intercourse  could  be  established  between  the  creature 
and  the  Creator.  In  the  total  absence  of  the  knowledge  of  God, 
religion  must  be  totally  excluded  and  unknown.  But  it  is  by  a  partial 
communication  of  himself,  which  the  Divine  Being  might,  if  he  pleased, 
in  various  degrees  extend  and  increase  beyond  the  present  measure, 
that  he  has  in  the  highest  degree  consulted  his  honour  and  manifested 
his  wisdom.  If  there  were  no  light,  we  should  sink  into  a  state  of 
irreligious  doubt  and  despair ;  if  there  were  no  darkness,  we  should 
be  in  danger  of  losing  that  reverential  sense  of  his  infinite  majesty  so 
essential  to  religion,  and  of  impiously  supposing  that  the  Almighty  is 
such  a  one  as  ourselves.  But  a  temperature  of  mingled  light  and 
obscurity,  a  combination  of  discovery  and  concealment,  is  calculated 
to  produce  the  most  suitable  impressions  of  the  Divine  excellence  on 
the  minds  of  fallen  creatures.  When  God  was  pleased  to  favour  his 
ancient  people  with  a  supernatural  display  of  his  presence,  by  a  visible 
symbol,  during  their  journey  through  the  wilderness,  it  wore  this  two- 
fold aspect :  it  was  a  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire,  dark  in  the  daytime 
and  luminous  in  the  night;  and  when  he  conducted  them  through  the 
Red  Sea,  he  turned  the  bright  side  of  the  cloud  towards  the  camp  of 

*  Rom.  ii.  7-9 ;  Ps.  xi.  6.  f  From  the  notes  of  Joshua  Wilson,  Esq. 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  311 

Israel,  and  the  gloomy  side  towards  the  Egyptians,  by  whom  they  were 
pursued.* 

When  he  descended  on  Mount  Sinai,  the  token  of  his  presence  was 
a  mass  of  tliick  and  dark  clouds,  penetrated  at  intervals  by  flashes  of 
lightning.  On  the  third  day,  in  the  morning,  we  are  informed,  there 
M^ere  thunders  and  lightnings,  and  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount :  and, 
it  is  added,  "  the  mount  was  altogether  in  a  smoke,  because  the  Lord 
descended  upon  it  in  fire,  and  the  smoke  thereof  ascended  as  the  smoke 
of  a  furnace."  When  Solomon  had  finished  his  temple,  the  manifesta- 
tion which  the  Deity  made  of  himself,  in  taking  possession  of  it  and 
consecrating  it  to  his  service,  was  of  the  same  character.  No  sooner 
had  the  priest  gone  out  of  the  holy  place,  than  the  cloud  filled  the 
house  of  the  Lord ;  and  "  the  priests  could  not  stand  to  minister  be- 
cause of  the  cloud,  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  had  filled  the  house  of 
the  Lord."  The  first  indication  of  the  Divine  presence  was  the  over- 
spreading of  thick  darkness,  which  afterward  subsided,  and  unfolded 
itself  gradually,  till  it  terminated  in  an  insufterable  splendour.  Upon 
observing  this,  Solomon,  at  the  commencement  of  his  celebrated  prayer, 
used  these  words :  "  The  Lord  said  that  he  would  dwell  in  the  thick 
darkness."!  If  God  dwells  in  light  inaccessible,  he  equally  makes 
darkness  his  dwelling-place, — "  his  pavilion  dark  waters  and  thick 
clouds  of  the  sky."  "  Clouds  and  darkness,"  says  David,  "  are  round 
about  him ;  righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his 
throne."  In  this  view  of  the  character  and  dispensations  of  the 
Almighty,  the  Psalmist  probably  alludes  to  those  sensible  appearances 
of  his  presence  which  are  recorded  in  his  ancient  oracles. 

At  our  Saviour's  transfiguration,  the  three  disciples  retained  their 
composure  until  the  cloud  appeared  ;  for  they  knew  that  to  be  the 
symbol  of  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Deity.  "  They  feared"  we 
are  told,  "  when  they  entered  into  the  cloud ;"  and  it  was  thence  the 
voice  proceeded,  saying,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  ye  him." 
These  representations  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
passage  under  our  present  consideration,  in  which  the  wisest  of  men, 
speaking  by  inspiration,  informs  us  that  "it  is  the  glory  of  God  to 
conceal  a  thing."  He  does  it  with  a  design  to  promote  his  glory, 
being  by  necessity  his  own  ultimate  and  final  end. 

There  are  two  observations  naturally  suggested  by  these  words  : — 

I.  The  Divine  Being  is  accustomed  to  conceal  much. 

II.  In  this  he  acts  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself,  and  suited  to 
display  his  glory. 

I.  We  shall  specify  some  of  the  instances  in  which  God  conceals 
things. 

1.  In  relation  to  his  own  nature  and  manner  of  existence. 

His  essence  is  altogether  hidden  from  the  most  profound  investiga- 
tion, the  most  laborious  research,  the  most  subtile  penetration  of  his 
creatures.  With  respect  to  this,  it  may  be  said,  "  Who  by  searching 
can  find  out  God  ;  who  can  find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection  ?"  We 
know  that  he  possesses  certain  attributes,  (which  we  distinguish  by 

*  Exod.  xiv.  19, 20.  f  1  Kings  viii.  12. 


312  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

different  names  drawn  from  analogous  excellences  among  men), 
exclusive  of  all  limit  or  imperfection  found  in  human  nature.  We 
ascribe  to  him  every  idea  of  virtue  and  spiritual  beauty,  exalted  to 
infinite  perfection.  But  how  the  Divine  Being  himself  exists  in  an 
essential  and  eternal  nature  of  his  own,  without  beginning  as  well  as 
without  end, — how  he  can  be  present  at  the  same  moment  in  every 
point  of  illimitable  space,  without  excluding  any  one  of  his  creatures 
from  the  room  it  occupies, — how,  unseen,  unfelt  by  all,  he  can  maintain 
a  pervading  and  intimate  acquaintance  and  contact  with  all  parts  and 
portions  of  the  universe, — how  he  can  be  at  once  all  eye,  all  ear,  all 
presence,  all  energy,  yet  interfere  with  none  of  the  perceptions  and 
actions  of  his  creatures, — this  is  what  equally  baffles  the  mightiest  and 
the  meanest  intellect ;  this  is  the  great  mystery  of  tlie  universe,  which 
is  at  once  the  most  certain  and  the  most  incomprehensible  of  all  things  ; 
— a  truth  at  once  enveloped  in  a  flood  of  light  and  an  abyss  of  dark- 
ness !  Liexplicable  itself,  it  explains  all  besides  :  it  casts  a  clearness 
on  every  question,  accounts  for  every  phenomenon,  solves  every  prob- 
lem, illuminates  every  depth,  and  renders  the  whole  mystery  of  exist- 
ence as  perfectly  simple  as  it  is  otherwise  perfectly  unintelligible, 
■while  itself  alone  remains  in  impenetrable  obscurity  !  After  displacing 
every  other  difficulty,  it  remains  the  greatest  of  all,  in  solitary,  unsur- 
mountable,  unapproachable  gi-andeur  !  So  truly  "  clouds  and  darkness 
are  round  about  him."  "  He  maketh  darkness  his  secret  habitation  ; 
his  pavilion  to  cover  him,  thick  clouds." 

His  perfections  are  impressed  on  the  works  of  nature,  but  in  such 
a  manner  that  we  learn  them  only  by  inference.  We  ascend  from 
effects  to  causes ;  from  the  marks  of  contrivance  and  design,  to  the 
necessary  existence  of  an  Almighty  Contriver.  But  what  sort  of  being 
lie  is,  and  what  is  the  nature  of  his  contact  with  his  creatures,  must, 
in  the  present  state  at  least,  remain  an  unfathomable  mystery.  We 
are  utterly  at  a  loss  in  all  such  speculations  ;  yet  this  affords  no 
diminution  of  the  motives  of  piety.  Our  belief  in  the  being  of  a 
God  is  the  belief  of  a  profound  mystery.  The  very  idea  of  such  a 
Being  would  appear  incredible  were  it  not  that  it  is  necessary,  be- 
cause the  greatest  absurdities  would  flow  from  supposing  the  contrarj'. 
Nothing  can  be  accounted  for  unless  we  admit  the  existence  of  a 
causeless  Cause — a  presiding  Governor  of  the  universe.  We  are 
compelled  therefore  to  choose  the  less  difliculty  of  the  two;  or  rather 
to  choose  difliculty  instead  of  impossibility,  mystery  instead  of  ab- 
surdity :   and  hence  we  repose  on  this  grand  truth. 

2.  The  Divine  Being  observes  the  same  method  of  concealment  in 
a  great  variety  of  respects,  with  regard  to  the  structure  and  constitu- 
tion of  his  works.  The  scenes  of  nature  lie  open  to  our  view ;  they 
solicit  our  senses,  and  are  adapted  to  impress  themselves  in  a  most 
lively  manner  upon  our  minds.  "  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of 
God,  and  the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork."  We  cannot  look 
around  us  without  beholding,  not  only  the  works  themselves,  but 
evident  traces  of  that  matchless  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  whence 
they  sprang.      Still,   the   mysteries   of  nature,    with   regard   to   the 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  313 

essences  of  things,  and  indeed  to  a  multitude  of  subtile  operations,  are 
kept  in  a  kind  of  sacred  reserve,  and  elude  the  utmost  efforts  of  phi- 
losophy to  surprise  them  in  their  concealments  and  bring  them  to 
light.  While  Philosophy  goes  on  from  step  to  step  in  the  march  of 
her  discoveries,  it  seems  as  if  her  grandest  result  was  the  conviction 
how  much  remains  undiscovered ;  and  while  nations  in  a  ruder  state 
of  science  have  been  ready  to  repose  on  their  ignorance  and  error, 
or  to  confound  familiarity  with  knowledge,  the  most  enlightened 
of  men  have  always  been  the  first  to  perceive  and  acknowledge  the 
remaining  obscurity  which  hung  around  them ;  just  as,  in  the  night, 
the  farther  a  light  extends,  the  wider  the  surrounding  sphere  of  dark- 
ness appears.  Hence  it  has  always  been  observed,  that  the  most 
profound  inquirers  into  nature  have  been  the  most  modest  and  humble. 
So  convinced  was  Socrates,  the  chief  luminary  of  the  ancient  world, 
of  the  great  obscurity  attending  all  such  inquiries,  that  he  abandoned 
the  search  of  nature,  and  confined  his  disquisitions  to  moral  questions, 
and  rules  for  the  conduct  of  life.  The  same  illustrious  man  declared, 
that  he  knew  no  reason  why  the  oracle  of  Delphos  pronounced  him 
to  be  the  wisest  of  men,  except  it  was  that,  being  conscious  of  his 
ignorance,  he  was  willing  to  confess  that  he  knew  nothing.  Newton, 
the  greatest  philosopher  whom  the  modern  world  has  known,  declared, 
speaking  of  a  distinguished  contemporary  from  whose  genius  he  augured 
vast  discoveries,  but  who  died  in  early  life,  (the  celebrated  Cotes), 
"  If  that  young  man  had  lived,  we  should  have  known  something." 
In  so  modest  a  manner  did  he  advert  to  his  own  imperfect  knowledge 
of  that  science  with  whicli  he  had  attained  such  prodigious  acquaint- 
ance as  to  have  become  the  pride  and  wonder  of  the  world  !  Those 
that  have  devoted  themselves  to  an  investigation  of  the  laws  of  nature 
find,  in  a  great  variety  of  the  most  common  productions,  sufficient  to 
engage  their  inquiries  and  employ  their  faculties :  they  perceive  that 
the  meanest  work  of  God  is  inexhaustible, — contains  secrets  which 
the  wisdom  of  man  will  never  be  able  to  penetrate.  They  are  only 
some  of  the  superficial  appearances  and  sensible  properties  with  which 
we  are  familiar.  Substances  and  essences  we  cannot  reach.  The 
secret  laws  which  regulate  the  operations  of  nature  we  cannot  unveil. 
Indeed,  we  have  i-eason  to  believe  that  the  most  enlarged  understanding 
must,  in  a  very  short  time,  resolve  its  inquiries  into  the  will  of  God  as 
the  ultimate  reason.  Thus,  one  of  the  best  effects  of  intellectual 
cultivation  and  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  is  to  restore  the  mind  to 
that  state  of  natural  simplicity  and  surprise  in  which  every  thing- 
above,  beneath,  and  around  us  appears  replete  with  mystery,  and 
excites  those  emotions  of  freshness  and  astonishment  with  which 
the  scenes  of  nature  are  contemplated  during  the  season  of  child- 
hood. 

3.  God  is  accustomed  to  conceal  much  in  the  dispensations  of  his 
providence.  The  dispensations  of  the  Divine  providence  are  that  series 
of  actions  which  the  Divine  Being  is  continually  carrying  on  in  the 
government  of  the  world  which  he  has  made.  This,  though  it  pre- 
sents many  evident  marks  of  wisdom  and  design,  is  also  eminently 


314  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

endowed  with  the  property  of  obscurity.  "  God  is  known  hy  the 
judgments  which  he  executeth.''^  The  established  order  of  providence 
in  this  world  makes  manifest  to  every  serious  and  reflecting  mind, 
that  "  there  is  verily  a  God  that  judgcth  in  the  earth.''''  There  exists 
such  a  decided  connexion  between  well-doing  and  happiness  on  the 
one  hand,  and  between  wickedness  and  misery  on  the  other,  as  suf- 
ficiently to  show,  even  independently  of  revelation,  that  the  Divine 
Being  is  the  patron  of  rectitude  and  the  enemy  of  vice.  Yet,  while 
there  is  a  prevailing  tendency  in  virtue  to  promote  happiness,  this 
tendency  is  not  always  carried  into  actual  eflect.  The  natural 
course  of  things  is  frequently  interrupted  and  suspended  by  inci- 
dental causes  :  particular  exceptions  are  continually  occurring  to  the 
ordinary  rule. 

There  are  two  respects  in  which  the  Divine  Being  perpetually  con- 
ceals the  ways  of  his  providence. 

(1.)  The  design  for  which  many  events  are  pennitted  to  take 
place. 

There  are  many  important  circumstances  and  events,  the  reason 
of  which  will  probably  remain  to  the  end  of  time  altogether  inscrutable  : 
such,  for  instance,  as  the  depression  of  the  righteous  ;  the  success  of 
fraud  and  violence  ;  the  frustration  of  the  purposes  of  benevolence 
and  virtue  ;  the  prevalence  of  persecution  ;  the  sufterings  of  martyrs  ; 
the  limited  diffusion  of  Christianity  ;  the  extent  to  which  idolatry  has 
been  suffered  to  desolate  the  moral  world  ;  and  the  mystery  of  in- 
iquity to  overspread  a  large  portion  of  Christendom.  The  best  and 
wisest  of  men  have  confessed  themselves  at  a  loss  to  interpret  the 
design  of  the  Divine  dispensations  with  respect  to  themselves  and 
their  contemporaries.  Even  prophets  have  acknowledged  that  their 
minds  were  for  a  time  perplexed  by  the  anomalies  of  providence : 
"  Righteous  art  thou,  O  Lord,"  says  Jeremiah,  "  yet  let  me  talk  with 
thee  of  thy  judgments :  Wherefore  do  the  wicked  prosper  ?"  And 
David,  when  he  reflected  on  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  the  unequal 
distribution  of  good  and  evil,  and  the  afflictions  to  which  the  righteous 
were  exposed,  was  tempted  to  exclaim,  "  Verily  I  have  cleansed  my 
heart  in  vain ;"  nor  did  he  find  any  satisfaction  until  he  went  into 
the  sanctuary  of  God,  and  there  understood  their  latter  end. 

(2.)  The  Divine  Being  is  accustomed  to  throw  much  obscurity  over 
the  future.  He  makes  the  present  the  scene  of  our  duty,  while  he 
Ka's',  in  a  great  degree,  hidden  futurity  from  our  view.  "We  know 
not  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow  ;"  we  are  ignorant  of  the  next  event 
that -shall  arise,  and  cannot,  with  all  the  light  we  can  gather  round  us, 
determine  what  shall  befall  us  on  the  next  moment :  we  are  impelled 
forward  on  the  stream  of  time,  but  know  not  what  is  immediately 
before  us.  This  ignorance  of  the  future  is  complete  with  respect  to 
the  period  of  our  own  lives.  Our  existence  this  moment  is  no  se- 
curity for  its  continuance  the  next :  "  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow, 
for  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth."  It  is  always  a 
matter  of  awful  uncertainty  when  we  enter  on  the  business  of  the 
day,  whether  we  shall  close  it  in  time  or  eternity ;  when  we  compose 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  315 

our  eyes  to  slumber,  in  which  world  we  shall  open  them.  The  future 
is  ever  in  the  hand  of  God.  No  man  can  say  with  confidence  that 
any  one  scheme  he  is  pursuing  shall  be  attended  with  success, — any 
one  hope  or  fear  which  he  entertains  be  realized.  Every  period  of 
our  life  is  opening  some  fresh  page,  the  contents  of  which  no  human 
sagacity  can  determine ;  nor  is  there  a  single  event  that  may  take 
place  under  the  sun  which  can  be  known  with  certainty  until  it  is 
actually  accomplished.  God  reserves  the  causes  of  events  in  his  own 
hand ;  and  all  that  the  highest  wisdom  can  attain  is  such  a  degree 
of  probability  as  may  lay  a  foundation  for  distant  and  uncertain  con- 
jecture. He  leads  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  "  by  a  way  that 
they  know  not."  The  scenes  are  shifted  and  changed  by  an  invisible 
hand,  in  such  a  manner  as  clearly  to  prove  that  the  collective  wisdom 
of  mankind  is  no  more  competent  to  direct  their  way  than  the  solitary 
wisdom  of  particular  persons. 

I  We  have  had  a  very  striking  instance  of  this,  in  the  change  that  has 
recently  taken  place  in  the  state  of  this  nation  ;*  which  has,  not  by  a 
slow  gradation,  but  in  the  course  of  a  very  few  weeks,  and  almost,  as 
it  were,  instantaneously,  fallen  from  the  highest  elevation  to  the  lowest 
depression.  From  a  state  of  unexampled  prosperity,  when  we  were 
exulting  in  the  expectation  of  still  brighter  scenes,  our  prospect  has 
become  suddenly  clouded  with  embarrassment,  distress,  and  dismay. 
Who  could  anticipate  that  famine  would  thus  rise  out  of  the  midst  of 
plenty;  want  of  subsistence,  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  abundance 
both  of  the  natural  productions  of  the  earth  and  the  artificial  produc- 
tions of  human  industry?  Was  there  any  one  of  the  wise  men  of  the 
world, — any  one  of  those  whose  office  it  is  to  superintend  the  affairs 
of  nations,  and  conduct  them  as  far  as  finite  minds  can  conduct  them, — 
who  formed  the  slightest  conjecture  of  such  a  state  of  things  ?  Did 
any  of  them  foretel  it?  Had  any  one  presented  to  his  mind  the 
faintest  glimpse  of  the  event  which  God  in  his  providence  has  brought 
upon  us  ?  No  :  the  destinies  of  nations  are  entirely  in  his  hand,  and 
"  he  doeth  according  to  his  will  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  as 
well  as  in  the  army  of  heaven."  He  is  pleased,  indeed,  to  give  us 
some  glimpse  into  futurity  by  establishing  a  certain  order  in  the  deal- 
ings of  his  providence  with  rational  creatures.  While  this  enables  us 
to  use  means  which  are  adapted  to  produce  certain  efiects,  yet  he  so 
frequently  frustrates  the  natural  tendency  of  actions  as  to  convince  us 
that  the  course  of  events  is  under  the  control  of  a  superior  power. 
"  The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  tlie  strong,  nor 
riches  to  men  of  understanding."  Hence,  while  encouragement  is  given 
to  the  practice  of  virtue,  by  its  general  tendency  to  promote  our  tem- 
'poral  interest  and  advantage,  confidence  in  our  own  wisdom  and  prii- 

*  This  sermon  was  delivered  in  a  season  of  great  public  calamity.  A  supposed  failure  in  the 
crops  produced  the  alarm  of  famine.  The  year  1826  was,  throughout,  extremely  unfavourable  to 
trade  and  manufactures.  The  number  of  bankrupts  in  the  Jirst  six  months  had  been  nearly  quad- 
ruple the  number  of  the  first  six  months  of  1825.  Labourers  were  so  inadequately  employed  as  to 
render  them  in  great  measure  dependent  on  the  contributions  of  the  more  atfluent  for  the  immediate 
necessaries  of  life.  An  unusual  "panic"  prevailed  among  commercial  men  ;  the  average  depre- 
ciation in  the  value  of  marketable  commodities  exceeded  18  per  cent. :  and  all  classes  were  strug- 
'  gling  with  extraordinary  difficulties.— Ed. 


316  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

dence,  in  neglect  of  a  devout  acknowledgment  of  the  hand  of  God, 
appears  to  be  the  highest  presumption.  "  The  foohshness  of  God" 
appears,  on  many  occasions,  "  wiser  than  men,  and  the  weakness  of 
'  God  stronger  than  men."  Individuals  are  sometimes  defeated  and 
ruined,  even  by  the  success  of  their  own  precautions ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  temerity  and  folly  are  sometimes  permuted  to  accomplish 
what  wisdom  could  not  effect.  Exceptions  to  the  success  of  human 
effort  are  so  numerous,  and  the  variety  of  events  on  which  that  success 
depends  so  complicated,  as  continually  to  remind  us  of  our  absolute 
dependence  on  that  unseen  Hand  which  conducts  us  whithersoever  he 
will,  and  accomplishes  the  whole  purpose  of  his  mind,  without  giving 
an  account  of  any  of  his  matters. 

The  most  important  events  of  human  life,  on  which  our  happiness 
greatly  depends,  are,  for  the  most  part,  concealed  from  our  view. 
\ery  few  persons  have  ascertained,  with  any  degree  of  accuracy, 
either  the  degree  or  the  kind  of  prosperity  and  success  with  which 
their  efforts  in  pursuit  of  human  felicity  have  been  crowned.  The 
greatest  evils  which  we  are  called  to  endure  generally  take  us  by 
surprise,  and  the  most  favourable  results  have  been  so  produced  as 
to  render  it  apparent  that  they  were  not  entirely  the  fruit  of  our  own 
sagacity,  providence,  or  enterprise.  There  is  no  event  so  interesting 
to  us  as  our  departure  from  this  world, — tliat  great  change,  so  com- 
prehensive that  it  includes  every  other ;  yet  this  the  Divine  Being 
usually  conceals.  Man  also,  says  the  author  of  this  book,  knoiveth 
not  his  time  :  as  the  Jishes  that  are  taken  in  an  evil  net,  and  as  the 
birds  that  are  caught  in  the  snare;  so  are  the  sons  of  men  snared  in 
an  evil  time,  when  it  falleth  suddeiily  upon  them*  Very  few  persons 
die  at  the  precise  period  which  their  own  imaginations  have  allotted  to 
that  event.  Death  overtakes  most  "  as  a  thief  in  the  night."  No 
man  is  enabled  to  ascertain  at  "  what  hour  the  Son  of  man  cometh ;" 
and  while  we  are  kept  in  perpetual  uncertainty  respecting  this  event, 
it  is  the  greatest  vanity  to  boast  of  our  foreknowledge  of  any  other, 
because,  when  this  arrives,  our  interest  in  the  present  world  ceases. 
All  that  is  done  under  the  sun,  all  the  joys  and  sorrows,  successes  and 
disappointments,  which  take  place  among  men,  are  then,  in  regard  to 
us,  events  that  occur  in  another  world.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  where 
the  bulk  of  mankind,  or  great  multitudes,  are  concerned,  the  calculation 
of  chances  respecting  their  average  continuance  on  earth  may  be  easy 
and  exact :  errors  on  one  side  are  corrected  and  balanced  by  those  on 
the  opposite ;  the  vibrations  of  the  pendulum  being  equivalent  to  hs 
remaining  stationary.  But  to  the  individual  the  case  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent ;  all  inferences  in  reference  to  the  termination  of  individual  life 
are  vain.  No  person,  therefore,  can  justify  himself  in  deferring  till 
to-morrow  his  preparation  for  that  eternal  world  which  may  be  the 
first  thing  that  presents  itself  to  his  awaking  faculties. 

4.  The  Divine  Being  is  pleased  to  conceal  much  in  the  economy 
of  grace  and  redemption.     In  the  manifestations  of  his  will,  even  in 

*  Eecles.  ix.  12. 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  317 

that  dispensation  which  is  intended  to  afford  some  knowledge  of  him- 
self, and  of  his  gracious  purposes  and  designs  to  the  children  of  men, 
he  maintains  the  same  character,  and  mingles,  in  almost  equal  pro- 
portions, obscurity  and  brightness.  Revelation,  indeed,  by  its  very 
nature,  is  intended  to  impart  information.  God  has  taught  us  in  his 
Word,  in  the  New  Testament  especially,  many  of  the  "  deep  things  of 
God ;"  and  we  are  under  unspeakable  obligations  for  that  "  dayspring 
from  on  high  which  has  visited  us,  to  guide  our  feet  into  the  way  of 
peace  and  give  knowledge  of  salvation  by  the  remission  of  sins."  Yet 
,he  revelation  contained  in  the  Scriptures  extends  only  to  facts,  not  to 
the  theory  of  those  facts,  or  their  original  causes.  The  most  important 
truths  are  communicated  in  a  dogmatic,  not  a  theoretic  manner.  We 
are  taught,  on  the  testimony  of  Him  that  cannot  lie,  insulated  facts 
which  we  cannot  connect  with  those  reasons  with  which  they  are  un- 
doubtedly connected  in  the  Divine  mind.  They  rest  solely  on  the  basis 
of  Divine  authority ;  and  we  are  left  as  much  in  the  dark  with  respect 
to  the  mode  of  their  existence  as  if  they  were  not  revealed.  He  has 
given  us  reason  to  expect  that  the  Godhead  subsists  in  three  persons ; 
distinct  acts  of  personal  agency  being  ascribed  to  the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Spirit,  while  worship  and  adoration  are  claimed  for  all 
of  them :  but  the  theory  of  this  fact  is  utterly  beyond  our  comprehen- 
sion ;  nor  does  it  appear  to  be  any  part  of  the  intention  of  Scripture  to 
put  us  in  possession  of  that  theory.  Those  who  have  ventured  to 
approach  too  near  this  inaccessible  light,  though  with  honest  and  sin- 
cere intentions,  have  for  the  most  part,  by  attempting  to  explain  it, 
involved  the  subject  in  deeper  obscurity,  and  "  darkened  counsel  by 
words  without  knowledge." 

We  are  expressly  informed  that  "  the  Word,  who  was  in  the  begin- 
ning with  God,  and  was  God,  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  men." 
There  was  a  mysterious  and  inconceivable  union  between  the  divine 
nature  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  was  "  the  brightness  of  his  Father's 
glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person"  before  the  world  began, 
and  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  But  when  we  attempt  to  develop  this 
mystery,  and  inquire  how  this  union  was  effected  and  maintained 
without  the  two  natures  being  identified,  or  their  respective  properties 
being  confounded,  we  are  utterly  at  a  loss.  We  affirm  nothing  more 
than  the  matter  of  fact,  we  only  put  into  other  words  the  express  testi- 
mony of  the  inspired  writers,  without  pretending  to  unfold  the  mystery 
of  his  person,  who  was  Immanuel,  God  with  us.  Surely,  if  we  cannot 
discover  how  the  Divine  Being  made  man,  it  must  be  far  beyond  our 
faculties  to  comprehend  how  the  Creator  of  the  world  became  a  par- 
taker of  the  nature  he  had  made.  This,  which  has  been  styled  the 
hypostatical  union, — in  consequence  of  which,  the  blood  shed  upon 
the  cross,  being  the  blood  of  God's  own  Son,  possesses  that  marvellous 
efficacy  by  virtue  of  which  it  cleanses  from  all  sin, — will  probably 
for  ever  remain  an  impenetrable  secret.  Great  is  the  mystery  of  god- 
liness :  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh.  We  are  far  from  suppressing 
our  conviction  that  this  is  a  great  mystery  ;  we  rejoice,  on  the  contrary, 
in  its  incomprehensibility ;  we  delight  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  impene- 


318  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

trable  shades  which  invest  the  subject,  because  in  the  darkness  and 
cloud  which  envelop  it  God  dwells.  It  is  the  greatness  which  forms 
the  mystery  of  the  fact, — the  matchless  love  and  condescension  con- 
stitute the  very  nucleus  of  the  difficulty.  It  could  only  be  brought 
within  the  sphere  of  our  comprehension  by  a  contraction  of  its  vast 
dimensions,  by  a  depression  of  its  native  grandeur.  A  prostration  of 
it  to  the  level  of  our  feeble  capacities  would  only  render  it  incapable 
of  being  the  magnet  of  souls,  the  attraction  of  hearts,  the  wonder  of 
the  universe.  The  eifect  of  this  great  fact  on  every  one  who  has 
sufficient  hurailhy  to  believe  the  word  of  God  is  not  at  all  diminished 
by  its  mysterious  grandeur.  On  the  contrary,  the  fact  itself  is  replete 
with  moral  intluence  and  practical  efiect.  Could  the  whole  theory  of 
the  incarnation  be  laid  open  to  our  view,  no  additional  force  would  be 
given  to  those  motives  to  fervent  gratitude  and  devotedness  to  the  ser- 
vice of  our  Redeemer  which  the  mere  fact  is  adapted  to  inspire.  The 
practical  influence  is  not  at  all  impaired,  but  rather  heightened,  by  the 
speculative  difficulties  which  attend  it,  because  they  result  merely  frorn 
its  ineffable  grandeur.  The  same  may  be  said  with  respect  to  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity.  The  distinct  parts  assigned  to  the  three  divine 
persons  exhibit  the  beautiful  harmony  of  the  plan  of  redemption :  the 
Father  sending  his  Son,  the  Son  executing  his  Father's  will,  the  Holy 
Spirit  sanctifying  the  people  of  God  by  dwelling  in  their  hearts. 
These  truths  are  not  less  practical  because  of  the  mystery  which 
attends  the  doctrine.  We  are  as  able  to  adore  the  grace  of  the 
Father,  the  love  of  the  Son,  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Spirit, — to 
value  the  distinct  agency  of  the  several  persons  in  the  work  of  our 
salvation,  as  if  we  could  perceive  the  theory  of  this  unspeakable 
mystery. 

With  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement,  we  are  taught  all  that 
it  is  necessary  for  us  to. know  ;  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
price  of  our  redemption,  and  that  it  was  uifinitely  worthy  of  God,  "  in 
bringing  many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation 
perfect  through  sufferings. "  We  can  perceive,  in  some  degree,  its 
tendency  to  advance  and  maintain  the  honour  of  God,  as  Moral  Gov- 
ernor of  the  world.  But  many  questions  may  be  proposed,  with  respect 
to  the  extent  of  its  efficacy,  which  our  reason  cannot  penetrate.  What 
connexion  this  great  sacrifice  may  have  with  the  happiness,  what  influ- 
ence on  the  destiny,  of  beings  of  a  higher  order,  of  which  the  Scriptures 
give  some  faint  intimatiota,  we  have  no  distinct  and  satisfactory  know- 
ledge ;  but  this  affords  no:pl;)jection  to  the  testimony  they  contain,  that 
"for  us  me/?,  and  for  our  solvation,"  the  Son  of  God  became  incarnate, 
suffered,  and  died.  It  is  worthy' of  the  reserve  of  Infinite  Majesty,  to 
give  us  very  brief  hints  with  respect  to  the  influence  of  these  great 
facts  on  the  innocent  and  holy  part  of  the  creation,  to  the  utmost 
extent  of  his  dominions. 

Again  :  The  operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  regeneration  and  sanc- 
tification  we  acknowledge  to  be  highly  mysterious  :  "  The  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hrarest  the  sound  thereof;  but  canst  not  tell 
whence  it  cometh,  and  whither  it  goeth :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  319 

of  the  Spirit."  All  Christians  indeed  know  by  experience  the  influence 
of  the  Spirit ;  but  what  is  that  mysterious  principle  styled  grace — how 
it  connects  itself  with  the  human  mind — where  its  operations  cease, 
and  the  operations  of  the  human  faculties  begin — are  questions  which 
probably  the  wisest  of  men  can  no  more  unfold  than  the  weakest  and 
most  ignorant:  they  are  very  far  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  human 
understanding.  But  is  it,  on  this  account,  less  our  duty  to  implore 
that  sacred  influence  T  If  it  be  necessary,  as  the  antidote  of  our 
depravity,  "  if  that  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and  that  which 
is  born  of  the  Spirit  only  is  Spirit,"  and,  consequently,  "  except  a  man 
be  born  again  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit" — of  the  Spirit  operating  as 
water,  by  cleansing  and  sanctifying  the  soul — "  he  cannot  see  the 
kingdom  of  God  ;"  is  his  obligation  to  seek  it  less  because  he  cannot 
explore  this  mystery  ?  Is  the  folly  of  neglecting  it  more  venial  because 
he  cannot  penetrate  the  speculative  depths  of  this  doctrine  ?  If  any 
one  feels  by  happy  experience  that  power  by  which  those  who  were 
"  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  are  quickened,  raised  up,  and  made  to 
sit  in  heavenly  places  with  Christ  Jesus  ;"  if  he  feels  that  "  all  old 
things  are  passed  away,  and  all  things  become  new"  within  him  ;  that 
he  is  braced  by  a  new  energy,  animated  by  a  new  life,  expatiates  in 
the  world  to  come  as  if  it  were  his  own ;  does  he  feel  less  gratitude 
for  these  mighty  operations  because  he  cannot  detect  and  analyze  the 
power  by  which  they  have  been  wrought,  or  explain  the  philosophy  of 
divine  influence  1 

These  observations  may  be  applied  to  all  the  other  mysterious  facts 
in  Christianity,  either  past  or  futiire.  The  resurrRption  of  the  dead 
must  be  admitted  to  be  a  great  mystery,  which  nothing  but  the  occur- 
rence of  the  fact  can  unfold.  The  apostle  puts  this  question  into  the 
mouth  of  an  infidel :  "  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what 
body  do  they  come  V  which  he  answers  in  a  very  unceremonious 
manner :  "  Thou  fool !  that  which  thou  sowest  is  not  quickened, 
except  it  die :  and  that  which  thou  sowest,  thou  sowest  not  that  body 
that  shall  be,  but  bare  grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat,  or  of  some 
other  grain :  but  God  giveth  it  a  body  as  it  hath  pleased  him,  and  to 
every  seed  his  own  body."  The  glorious  prospect  opened  by  this 
doctrine  is  not  less  animating  because  it  surpasses  our  comprehen- 
sion :  on  the  contrary,  its  profundity  only  serves  to  increase  our  aston- 
ishment, and  enhance  our  gratitude.  The  apostle,  in  his  apology  before 
Felix,  resolves  the  whole  into  an  immediate  exertion  of  Divine  power. 
"  Why  should  it  be  thought  a  thing  incredible  that  God  should  raise 
the  dead  .<*"  If,  indeed,  the  gospel  professed  to  teach  the  theory  of 
the  fact,  it  would  be  a  just  objection  that  this  was  beyond  the  grasp 
of  our  faculties.  If,  on  the  contrary,  it  merely  reveal  facts,  and  those 
facts  have  immediate  practical  bearings  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of 
those  who  receive  them,  all  objections  on  account  of  their  mysterious- 
ness  are  futile,  because  they  proceed  on  the  supposition  that  God 
intended  to  develop  the  whole  mystery,  whereas  he  discovers  only  so 
much  as  may  be  adapted  to  rectify  the  conscience  and  purify  the 
heart. 


320  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

II.  I  shall  now  attempt  to  show  how  the  Divine  Being  promotes 
his  glory,  by  such  a  temperature  of  light  and  shade  as  that  which 
distinguishes  all  his  discoveries  of  himself,  and  his  dispensations 
towards  his  creatures. 

1.  The  concealment  which  he  has  thrown  in  these  various  respects 
over  his  ways,  works,  and  word  tends  to  glorify  him,  as  it  is,  in  part, 
the  necessary  consequence  of  his  infinite  superiority  to  all  finite  beings 
in  wisdom  and  understanding, — the  inevitable  result  of  his  being  God. 
His  wisdom  is  that  which  belongs  to  him  as  the  Fountain  of  wisdom, 
the  Father  of  lights,  the  Source  of  all  knowledge.  His  purposes  and 
designs  cannot,  therefore,  be  adequately  scanned  by  tiie  wisdom  of 
men,  from  whom  he  must  necessarily  conceal  more  than  he  reveals. 
A  child  cannot  at  once  be  made  to  comprehend  the  reasons  of  his 
father  in  imposing  those  restraints  and  privations  which  are  a  neces- 
sary part  of  parental  discipline.  It  is  only  by  degrees  that  his  feeble 
capacity  can  be  made  to  penetrate  the  secret  of  his  education.  If  this 
be  the  case  with  respect  to  two  finite  minds,  one  of  which  has  only 
arrived  at  greater  maturity  than  the  other,  how  much  more  dispropor- 
tionate must  be  the  plans  of  Infinite  Wisdom  to  our  narrow  faculties ! 
and  what  force  does  such  a  consideration  give  to  that  appeal  of  the 
apostle,  "  We  have  had  fathers  of  our  flesh  that  corrected  us,  and  we 
gave  them  reverence  ;  shall  we  not  much  rather  be  in  subjection  to  the 
Father  of  spirits,  and  live  !"  Surely  we  owe  as  much  deference  to 
the  wisdom,  as  much  reliance  on  the  kindness  of  the  Eternal  Parent, 
as  we  give  to  our  earthly  father !  The  infinite  superiority  of  the 
Divine  perfections  renders  this  concealment  necessary.  He  cannot, 
on  account  of  his  incomparable  greatness  and  excellence,  bring  his 
plans  and  operations  within  the  comprehension  of  his  creatures. 
Viewing  eternity  in  all  its  extent,  having  present  to  his  mind  all  that  is 
past  and  all  that  is  future,  seeing  the  end  from  the  beginning,  looking 
forward  to  the  remotest  period,  and  embracing  in  his  prospect  all  pos- 
sible future  events,  he  regulates  his  conduct  upon  a  scale  Avhich  belongs 
only  to  him  that  inhabits  eternity.  Concealment  is  the  necessary  indica- 
tion and  proof,  as  well  as  the  ellect,  of  his  being  "  infinite  in  council." 
The  judgments  of  such  a  Being  must,  by  the  necessity  of  his  nature, 
be,  to  our  limited  apprehensions,  "  a  great  deep."  "  O  the  depth  of 
the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God  !  how  unsearch- 
able are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out !" 

2.  The  glory  of  God  appears  in  concealing,  because  it  evinces  his 
entire  independence  on  the  wisdom,  counsel,  or  co-operation  of  any  or  all 
of  his  creatures.  It  is  his  prerogative  to  be  the  only  Being  to  whom 
it  is  always  safe  to  conceal  his  designs  and  purposes.  It  is  seldom 
safe  for  persons,  in  the  highest  stations,  to  conduct  a  complicated 
scheme  of  operations  without  taking  advantage  of  counsel :  "  In  the 
multitude  of  counsellors,"  says  the  wise  man,  "  there  is  safety."  No 
greater  folly  can  be  practised  by  so  weak  and  frail  a  being  as  man, 
than,  in  matters  of  great  moment,  to  decline  taking  the  assistance  of 
other  minds.  It  is  the  privilege  of  very  few,  if  any,  mortals  to  possess 
at  once  that  penetration  and  that  comprehension  of  view  which  would 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  321 

rendei'  it  expedient  for  them  to  tread  the  most  perilous  paths  alone. 
He  that  despises  the  counsel  of  others  is,  for  the  most  part,  sure  to 
rue  the  effects  of  his  folly.  Nor  is  it  necessary  that  the  party  con- 
sulted should  possess  superior  capacity,  or  even  knowledge  of  the 
subject  in  question.  Different  individuals  see  the  same  object  in  a 
different  light,  and  a  person  of  weaker  intellect,  not  being  immediately 
concerned,  may  be  much  more  cool  and  impartial ;  some  circumstance, 
therefore,  which  escaped  the  attention  or  the  recollection  of  the  most 
sagacious  individual  whose  passions  were  excited,  may  occur  to  another 
person  possessed  of  a  very  inferior  degree  of  intellectual  power. 
Those  who  are  the  immediate  agents  in  any  plan  of  operation  have 
their  feelings  generally  too  much  excited,  are  too  eagerly  engaged  in 
the  chase,  to  be  capable  of  discerning  all  those  possibilities  of  disap- 
pointment and  frustration  which  may  present  themselves  to  the  calm 
survey  of  indifferent  spectators.  But  it  is  infinitely  worthy  of  the 
Divine  Being  to  give  no  account  of  any  of  his  matters,  with  a  view  to 
obtain  information  from  his  creatures.  "  AVho  hath  directed  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord,  or  being  his  counsellor  hath  taught  him  ?  With 
whom  took  he  counsel,  and  who  instructed  him,  and  taught  him  in  the 
path  of  judgment,  and  taught  him  knowledge,  and  showed  to  him  the 
way  of  understanding  1  Behold,  the  nations  are  as  a  drop  of  a  bucket, 
and  are  counted  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance:  behold  he  taketh 
up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing.  All  nations  before  him  are  as 
nothing  ;  and  they  are  counted  to  him  less  than  nothing,  and  vanity."* 
"  Who  hath  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord,  or  who  hath  been  his  coun- 
sellor "?  Or  who  hath  first  given  to  him,  and  it  shall  be  recompensed 
unto  him  again  ?  For  of  him,  and  through  him,  and  to  him  are  all 
things  :  to  whom  be  glory  for  ever.     Amen."t 

The  Divine  Being  may,  with  infinite  safety  and  propriety,  retire 
within  himself,  into  the  secret  recesses  of  his  own  essence,  the  depths 
of  his  own  immensity,  form  his  purposes  apart,  consult  with  none  but 
himself.  "  He  holdeth  back  the  face  of  his  throne,  and  spreadeth  his 
cloud  upon  it."  The  resources  of  his  own  nature  are  intinitely  sufii- 
cient.  Of  whom  should  he  ask  light,  who  is  himself  the  Father  of 
lights  ?  Why  should  he  take  advice  of  creatures,  of  whose  wisdom 
all  human  knowledge  is  but  a  spark  ?  There  is  not  a  portion  of 
intelligence  in  the  universe  which  is  not  already  his  own :  to  consult 
with  his  creatures  would  therefore  be  but  to  consult  with  himself. 
"  There  is,  indeed,  a  spirit  in  man  ;  but  it  is  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  which  giveth  him  understanding."  The  counsels  of  God 
are  his  own  counsels,  unmixed  with  any  communication  of  human 
wisdom.  He  cannot  mingle  his  designs  with  any  others,  or  take 
associate  minds  into  his  cabinet.  He  needs  not  to  receive  back,  nor 
can  he  receive  back,  from  his  creatures  any  portion  of  the  light  which 
has  been  diffused  from  that  ocean  of  wisdom  and  inteUigence  which 
eternally  resides  in  himself. 

3.  The  Divine  glory  is  promoted  by  concealing,  inasmuch  as  such 

*  Isaiah  id.  13-15, 17.  t  Rom-  xi.  34-36. 

Vol.  III.— X 


322  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

a  degree  of  obscurity  as  attends  the  partial  manifestation  of  the 
Divine  will,  and  the  progressive  development  of  the  Divine  purposes, 
is  eminently  adapted  to  the  state,  exigency,  and  condition  of  man. 
Many  important  purposes  are  accomplished  by  this  temperature  be- 
tween concealment  and  manifestation,  as  we  have  already  in  part  shown, 
and  proceed  more  clearly  to  exhibit  in  a  few  particulars. 

(1.)  The  prophetic  part  of  the  Word  of  God,  while  it  contains 
some  general  intimation  of  future  events,  is  expressed  in  language,  or 
denoted  by  imagery,  proverbially  obscure.  This  is  intended  to  alibrd 
some  general  knowledge  of  the  future,  or  it  would  not  be  prophecy ; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  obscurity  forms  a  necessary  ingredient.  Were 
it  free  from  that,  were  it  like  the  language  of  narrative,  it  would  give 
such  a  distinct  knowledge  of  the  future  event  as  would  lead  some 
persons  to  use  means  for  the  purpose  of  accomplishing  it  by  their  own 
power,  and  tempt  others  presumptuously  to  endeavour  to  frustrate  it. 
The  design  of  prophecy  is,  not  to  enable  persons  to  anticipate  the 
minute  circumstances  of  events,  but  partly  to  excite  in  their  minds  a 
general  expectation,  by  presenting  a  vague  and  shadowy  outline  ; 
partly  to  afibrd  a  striking  illustration  of  the  power  and  providence 
of  God,  in  bringing  to  pass  those  events  on  tiie  arrival  of  a  distant 
age.  The  infinite  wisdom  of  God  appears  in  his  foretelling  future 
events,  in  such  a  manner  that  when  they  arrive  they  tally  and  corres- 
pond to  the  prophecy  in  a  great  variety  of  particulars ;  while  in  the 
mean  time  the  events  are  so  darkly  shadowed,  that  the  human  aoents 
by  whom  they  are  accomplished  are  ignorant  that  in  so  doing  they 
are,  in  fact,  fulfilling  the  counsels  of  Heaven.  They  merely  follow 
the  dictates  of  their  own  minds,  act  agreeably  to  their  own  inclinations, 
and  have  no  intention  of  bringing  to  pass  those  events  to  which  the 
prophecy  has  reference.  Nebuchadnezzar  little  supposed  that  he  was 
a  mere  rod  in  the  hand  of  Deity,  to  chastise  his  own  people.  Cyrus, 
when  he  set  out  for  Babylon  to  deliver  them,  little  supposed  that  the 
hand  of  God  had  girded  him,  and  prepared  his  wav  before  him.  Both 
were  unconscious  agents  in  accomplishing  the  purposes  of  that  Divine 
Providence  whose  wisdom  enlightened  their  path,  and  whose  energy 
sustained  them.  God  had  foretold  by  his  prophets  the  rejection  of 
Jesus  Christ  by  the  Jewish  nation,  and  his  crucifixion  ;  get  the  Jews, 
in  delivering  him  up,  as  well  as  Pilate  and  Herod  in  condemning  and 
executing  him,  acted  as  freely,  were  therefore  as  much  accountable, 
as  if  he  had  not  been  "  by  the  determinate  counsel  and  foreknowledge 
of  God  delivered  up."*  The  treason  that  was  practised  by  Judas  on 
his  Lord  and  Master  had  been  announced  by  the  Psalmist  David ; 
yet  how  much  is  the  wisdom  of  God  magnified  in  permitting  this  to 
remain  so  secret,  that  the  very  perpetrator  was  probably  ignorant  of 
it,  acting  with  the  same  freedom  and  spontaneity,  with  as  close  an 
adherence  to  tlie  dictates  of  his  own  heart,  the  pecidiarities  of  his  own 
character,  as  if  no  such  prophecy  had  been  recorded.  Thus  God 
secures  the  glory  of  his  own  foreknowledge,  at  the  same  time  that  he 

*  Acts  ii.  23. 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  323 

leaves  undisturbed  the  sphere  of  human  agency.  Were  future  events 
so  distmclly  predicted  as  to  be  clearly  foreseen,  this  would  either 
destroy  the  proof  of  Divine  superintendence  and  agency,  or  would 
require  such  a  perpetual  miraculous  control  over  the  exercise  of 
human  faculties  as  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  state  and  condition 
of  accountable  creatures  in  a  world  of  probation.  It  is  also  neces- 
sary that  propliecy  should  not  operate  as  precept ;  for,  with  some,  the 
will  of  God  clearly  foreseen  would  have  the  force  of  a  command,  and 
would  be  fulfilled  as  such ;  which  would  confound  human  agency  with 
Divine.  On  the  other  hand,  in  consequence  of  this  arrangement,  none 
have  it  in  their  power  to  frustrate  his  designs  :  "  He  frustrateth  the 
tokens  of  the  liars,  and  maketh  diviners  mad  ;  turneth  wise  men 
backward,  and  maketh  their  knowledge  foolish."*  In  order,  there- 
fore, that  the  free  agency  of  creatures  may  be  preserved,  the  time  and 
other  circumstances  of  an  event  predicted  are  permitted  to  remain  so 
uncertain  that  the  persons  who  are  to  accomplish  it  continue  ignorant 
of  them  till  the  event  itself  takes  place. 

Those  great  events  which  have  materially  affected  the  condition 
of  the  world  were  foretold  by  the  ancient  prophets.  But  did  the 
human  agents  know  they  were  fulfilling  these  predictions  ?  Nothing 
was  farther  from  their  view :  "  they  meant  not  so,  neither  did  their 
heart  think  so  ;"t  they  were  merely  gratifying  their  own  little  passions, 
pursuing  no  other  end  than  their  own  sinister  and  selfish  policy. 
They  were  instruments  in  the  hands  of  the  Divine  Being,  as  passive  in 
accomplishing  his  purposes  as  the  axe  or  hammer  in  the  hands  of  a 
man.  The  predictions  were  mingled  with  much  obscurity,  as  I  have 
before  remarked,  to  leave  the  free-agency  of  creatures  undisturbed, 
and  their  accountability  consequently  unimpaired. 

Prophecy  is  not  intended  to  give  men  such  a  knowledge  of  futurity 
as  to  enable  even  the  most  sagacious  to  predict  events.  Those  who 
have  attempted  with  certainty  to  assign,  beforehand,  particular  prophe- 
cies to  particular  events,  have  uniformly  failed  in  their  presumptuous 
endeavours.  The  design  of  prophecy  is  only  to  afford  some  general 
intimation,  which  may  operate  either  as  warning  or  encouragement. 
Its  chief  use  is,  after  the  event  has  taken  place,  to  assure  men  of  the 
universal  providence  of  God,  and  convince  them  of  that  wisdom 
which  foresees  all  future  events,  and  that  power  which  accomplishes 
them  when  the  appointed  period  arrives.  When,  therefore,  the 
Divine  Being  has  been  disposed  to  lift,  in  some  degree,  the  ved  which 
conceals  futurity,  he  has  only  done  it  so  far  as  to  excite  a  general 
and  indefinite  expectation  of  the  event,  by  exhibiting  its  general  char- 
acter and  features,  but  by  no  means  to  disclose  such  circumstances 
of  time,  place,  and  instrumentality  as  might  interfere  in  the  least 
degree  with  the  morality  of  human  actions. 

(2.)  The  Divine  Being,  by  giving  no  account  of  the  design  of  many 
dispensations  of  his  providence,  trains  us  to  submission.  He  is  the 
fit  and  proper  object  of  trust  to  mankind.     Trust  in  God  is  the  grand 

*  Isaiah  xliT.  25  t  Isaiah  x.  7 . 

X2 


324  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONGEALING. 

principle  of  religion ;  it  is  another  word,  indeed,  for  faith,  as  that 
term  is  applied  in  the  New  Testament, — the  grand  principle  which 
distinguishes  good  men  from  men  of  the  world.  The  former  trust  in 
God  ;  and,  trusting  in  him,  their  souls  are  kept  in  peace.  They  com- 
mit their  way  to  him,  and  resign  their  wills  into  his  hands,  God 
demands  from  his  creatures  universal  confidence,  not  only  explicit, 
but  also  implicit.  The  former  is  that  which  arises  from  a  clear  per- 
ception of  his  intentions  and  designs.  When  we  are  able  to  trace  his 
counsels,  our  trust  in  him  is  regulated  by  our  knowledge  of  his  ways 
and  purposes,  and  this  must  precede  any  exercise  of  the  latter  kind 
of  trust.  But  when  the  Divine  Being  has,  by  such  a  manifestation 
of  himself,  by  such  a  degree  of  illumination,  established  a  conviction 
of  his  paternal  character,  and  sufficiently  revealed  the  principles  of 
his  government,  it  is  worthy  of  his  majesty  to  put  his  rational  crea- 
tures to  the  test.  Having  had  innumerable  experimental  proofs  of  his 
loving-kindness,  and  of  those  tender  mercies  which  are  over  all  his 
works,  should  we  not  be  ready  to  follow  him  in  a  path  that  we  cannot 
discern,  even  when  his  footsteps  are  in  the  great  deep  1  May  not  the 
Father  of  the  universe  call  on  all  Ins  rational  oflspring  to  place  un- 
limited confidence  in  himself,  to  be  willing  to  fall  into  his  hands,  to 
commit  all  their  concerns  to  his  disposal,  to  abandon  themselves  to 
his  pleasure  ?  When  we  consider  also  the  provision  he  has  made  for 
our  eternal  happiness  in  the  economy  of  redemption,  in  those  exceed- 
ing great  and  precious  promises  he  has  there  revealed,  and  especially 
in  the  gift  of  his  own  Son,  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  possible 
communications  of  good,  how  infinitely  fit  is  it  for  such  a  creature, 
having  to  deal  with  such  a  God,  to  say,  with  the  most  entire  self- 
oblivion,  "Do  with  me  as  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight;"  joy  or  sor- 
row, prosperity  or  adversity,  are  indifierent  to  me,  since  tliou  canst 
bring  light  out  of  darkness,  order  out  of  confusion,  and  cause  these 
light  afflictions,  which  are  but  for  a  moment,  to  work  for  me  a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

(3.)  Another  advantage  derived  from  this  proceeding  is,  that  it  tends 
to  promote  humility  and  vigilance,  at  the  same  time  that  it  excites  to 
diligence  and  exertion.  As  we  are  to  give  account  of  our  conduct, 
it  is  necessary  that  the  Divine  Being  should  aflx)rd  us  a  rule  of  action, 
and  this  must  be  clear  and  determinate.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that 
we  should  be  informed  of  the  issue  of  actions ;  these,  therefore,  he  is 
pleased  to  keep  in  his  own  hand.  Yet,  as  without  the  hope  of  attain- 
inor  some  advantage,  to  stinmlate  us  to  activity,  the  mind  would  become 
lethargic,  because  we  should  feel  ourselves  chained  down  by  a  fatal 
destiny,  in  helpless  despondency ;  such  a  constitution  is  wisely  estab- 
lished, that  success  may  be  the  general  rule,  failure  the  exception. 
But  occasional  instances  of  the  latter  are  useful,  by  teaching  us  not 
to  lean  to  our  own  understanding.  Men  are  now  too  much  disposed 
to  "  sacrifice  to  their  own  net,  and  burn  incense  to  their  own  drag ;" 
but  if  they  were  capable  of  certainly  foreseeing  the  issue  of  their 
schemes, — if  the  battle  were  always  to  the  strong,  and  riches  to  men 
of  understanding, — how  would  the  strong  man  glory  in  his  strength, 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  325 

the  rich  man  in  his  riches !  These  objects  of  pursuit  would  be  tlie 
source  of  most  intemperate  idolatry,  and  would  utterly  corrupt  the 
mind  of  their  possessor,  by  leading  him  to  glory  in  himself,  and  not  in 
God.  On  the  other  hand,  were  there  no  connexion  between  the  culti- 
vation of  certain  qualities  and  success,  did^ no  advantage  result  from 
the  possession  of  them,  there  would  be  no  motive  to  action,  no  in- 
ducement to  make  those  exertions  which  promote  the  improvement 
of  mankind,  and  of  the  institutions  of  society.  Still,  the  knowledge 
that  a  successful  result  cannot  be  calculated  upon  with  certainty 
greatly  tends  to  stamp  vanity  on  all  that  relates  to  the  present  world, 
and  thus  leads  men  to  trust  in  the  living  God,  whose  promises,  resting 
on  a  certain  basis,  are  secure  of  their  final  accomplishment. 

With  respect  to  the  events  that  may  befall  us,  especially  in  reference 
to  that  great  and  final  event,  death, — were  the  period  perfectly  certain, 
we  should  be  tempted,  during  the  interval,  to  sit  down  in  the  indul- 
gence of  security.  Such  knowledge  would  induce,  in  most  men,  the 
greatest  rashness  and  presumption.  While  the  event  was  at  a  dis- 
tance they  would  gratify  their  appetites  without  restraint ;  they  would, 
upon  system,  procrastinate  attention  to  their  eternal  interests.  Whereas, 
now,  the  uncertainty  of  its  arrival  furnishes  the  highest  reason  for 
being  always  ready,  and  renders  the  neglect  of  preparation  the  greatest 
folly  and  infatuation.  It  should  operate  as  a  solemn  admonition  from 
God  to  perpetual  watchfulness  and  care,  not  to  leave  that  undone 
which,  if  undone  at  a  dying  hour,  renders  the  doing  of  all  other  things 
merely  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  while  we  are  left  in  a  state  of 
inconsolable  wretchedness.  All  pretence  for  delay  being  hereby  cut 
off",  the  inattention  of  the  majority  of  mankind  to  these  divine  warnings 
becomes  utterly  inexcusable  ;  especially  if  we  consider  the  magnitude 
of  the  event  itself,  and  that  the  change  it  effects  in  our  condition  is  not 
only  awfully  great,  but  will  continue,  beyond  any  possibility  of  future 
change,  to  eternity.  Hence  our  Saviour  urges  this  circumstance  as 
one  of  the  most  powerful  motives  to  incessant  vigilance.  "  Watch, 
therefore,  for  ye  kiiow  neither  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  the  Sou  of 
man  cometh.  If  the  good  man  of  the  house  had  known  at  what  hour 
the  thief  would  come,  he  would  have  vVatched,  and  not  have  suflered 
his  house  to  be  broken  through."  "  Stand,  therefore,  having  your  loins 
girt,  your  lamps  burning,  and  ye  yourselves  like  unto  men  that  wait 
for  the  coming  of  their  Lord.  Who  is  that  wise  and  faithful  servant 
whom  his  Lord,  when  he  cometh,  shall  find  so  doing  ?"  God  is  pleased 
to  deal  with  us,  in  the  economy  of  his  providence  and  grace,  as  crea- 
tures that  possess  reason,  and  are  therefore  accountable, — that  can 
look  forward,  and  make  provision  for  the  exigencies  of  the  future, — 
and  whose  great  business  it  is  to  "  work  out  our  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling."  The  great  necessity  which  attaches  to  us  is  that  of 
changing  worlds  ;  while  our  life  is  but  a  fleeting  vapour,  liable  to  be 
instantly  extinguished.  That  event  is  perpetually  suspended  over  us, 
as  the  inevitable  circumstance  attending  our  destiny ;  but  we  are  in 
total  ignorance  of  tlie  time  of  its  arrival.  We  cannot,  therefore,  with- 
out the  greatest  presumption,  call  a  single  moment  our  own.     Kow  is 


326  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

this  arrangement  adapted  to  fix  and  concentrate  our  attention  on  the 
momentous  event ;  to  cause  it  to  combine  itself  with  all  our  plans  and 
counsels  !  If  we  are  wise,  we  shall  constantly  remember  our  latter 
end,  be  always  ready,  and  not  suffer  that  day  to  come  upon  us  like  a 
thief.     "  Blessed  is  he  that  watcheth,  and  kecpeth  his  garments." 

There  is  another,  less  solemn,  yet  important  view  which  may  be 
taken  of  this  point,  and  equally  illustrates  the  wisdom  of  God  in  con- 
cealing future  events.  Were  the  time  of  our  death  foreseen,  what  a 
melancholy  character  would  it  impart  to  the  pursuits  and  occupations 
of  the  human  race  !  If  every  man  saw  the  moment  of  his  death  con- 
tinually before  him,  how  would  his  thouglits  be  fixed  to  the  fatal  spot; 
and,  as  it  approached  nearer,  the  consideration  of  it  would  probably 
absorb  every  other.  With  respect  to  our  fellow-creatures,  how  would 
it  poison  the  springs  of  enjoyment,  were  parents  and  children,  hus- 
bands and  wives,  brothers  and  sisters,  able  to  calculate  with  certainty 
the  period  of  each  other's  lives !  We  should  seem  to  be  walking 
among  the  victims  of  death  ;  the  scenes  of  human  existence  would 
lose  all  cheerfulness,  animation,  and  beauty.  The  interests  of  society 
would  also  sustain  most  serious  injury.  Many  great  and  noble  enter- 
prises would  never  have  been  begun,  could  the  persons  who,  in  the  hope 
of  life,  engaged  in  them,  have  foreseen  that  before  they  could  be  con- 
cluded they  themselves  would  be  snatched  away  by  the  hand  of  death. 
Many  discoveries,  by  which  great  benefit  has  been  conferred  on  the 
world,  would  not  have  been  elicited.  Few  efibrts  probably  would  be 
made  to  attain  any  object,  the  consequences  of  which  terminate  with 
the  life  of  the  party,  if  he  foresaw  that  they  would  be  intercej)ted  by 
death.  Who  would  build,  or  engage  in  any  lucrative  employment,  if 
he  certainly  knew  that  the  benefit  would  not  be  even  partially  realized 
during  the  term  of  his  mortal  existence  ?  But,  happily  for  mankind, 
events  are  concealed — duties  only  are  made  known.  With  respect 
also  to  calamities  which  stop  short  of  death,  how  wisely  is  it  ordered, 
that,  in  consequence  of  their  coming  upon  us  by  surprise,  the  courage 
and  fortitude  required  to  encounter  them  are  not  weakened  by  a  presenti- 
ment of  dread  !  The  prospect  of  them  perpetually  before  our  eyes 
would  throw  a  cloud  over  the  whole  path  of  life,  and  when  they 
arrived  would  cause  them  to  fall  upon  us  with  supernumerary  and 
redoubled  weight.  On  the  other  hand,  could  we  foresee  our  successes, 
they  would  lose  much  of  their  flavour  and  relish.  The  surprise  with 
which  they  often  come  upon  us  is  one  element  of  otir  enjoyment  of 
them. 

The  future  world  also  has  been  placed,  bj^  the  wisdom  of  God,  just 
in  that  light  in  which  it  is  most  for  our  benefit  that  it  should  be  placed. 
Were  we  fixed  in  the  situation  of  the  apostle  ,Tohn,  were  tiie  heavenly 
state  continually  laid  open  to  our  view,  religion  would  be  no  longer  a 
voluntary  service  ;  we  should  be  forced  to  attend  to  objects  so  trans- 
cendently  glorious  brought  thus  near  to  us.  Could  we  distinctly  hear 
the  voices,  like  mighty  thunderings,  heard  within  the  vail,  they  would 
render  us  deaf  to  every  earthly  sound  :  religion  would  be  no  longer 
matter  of  choice  ;  and  consequently  faith  would  be  no  longer  matter  of 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  327 

virtue.  The  preference  of  present  to  future  interests,  and  therefore 
the  exercise  of  self-denial,  would  be  impossible.  But  the  Divine  Being 
has  been  pleased  to  throw  over  the  heavenly  world  a  great  degree  of 
obscurity.  Jesus  Christ  has  indeed  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light  by  the  gospel ;  has  raised  our  hopes  to  the  highest  point,  by 
investing  the  future  state  of  glory  with  unspeakable  elevation  and  gran- 
deur ;  but  has  not  explicitly  taught  us  in  what  that  state  will  consist : 
"  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be."  We  know  enough  of 
futurity  to  make  it  become  the  great  object  of  our  attention ;  although 
it  does  not  so  press  upon  our  organs  as  to  render  us  insensible  to  pres- 
ent scenes  and  interests. 

4.  The  glory  of  God  is  concerned  in  concealing  much  in  his  char- 
acter, works,  providence,  and  revelation,  because  tliis  will  probably  be 
a  source  of  great  additional  happiness  to  the  redeemed,  and  mingle 
itself  among  the  elements  of  devotional  enjoyment  in  the  eternal  state. 
A  degree  of  surprise  and  astonishment,  which  cannot  consist  with  the 
perfect  comprehension  of  whatever  falls  under  our  cognizance,  appears 
to  be  one  ingredient  in  the  highest  degree  of  felicity  of  which  a  rational 
being  is  susceptible.  There  is  a  principle  in  the  constitution  of  our 
nature  which  renders  us  dissatisfied  with  what  we  thoroughly  under- 
stand in  all  its  parts :  when  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  discovered, 
from  that  moment  it  begins  to  pall  upon  us,  and  we  must  pass  to  some- 
thing which  will  give  scope  to  the  activities  of  the  human  mind. 

The  Deity  is  intended  to  be  the  everlasting  field  of  the  human  intel- 
lect, as  well  as  the  everlasting  object  of  the  human  heart,  the  ever- 
lasting portion  of  all  holy  and  happy  minds,  who  are  destined  to  spend 
a  blissful  but  ever-active  eternity  in  the  contemplation  of  his  glory. 
This  can  only  be  effected  by  his  concealing  himself.  He  will  for  ever 
remain  "the  unknown  God."  We  shall  ever  be  conscious  that  we 
know  little  compared  with  what  remains  to  be  known  of  him  ;  that  our 
most  rapturous  and  lofty  songs  fall  infinitely  short  of  his  excellence. 
If  we  stretch  our  powers  to  the  uttermost,  we  shall  never  exhaust  his 
praise,  never  render  him  adequate  honour,  never  discharge  the  full 
amount  of  claim  which  he  possesses  upon  our  veneration,  obedience, 
and  gratitude.  When  we  have  loved  him  with  the  greatest  fervour, 
our  love  will  still  be  cold  compared  with  his  title  to  our  devoted  attach- 
ment. Tiiis  will  render  him  the  continual  source  of  fresh  delight  to 
all  eternity.  His  perfection  will  be  an  abyss  never  to  be  fathomed  ; 
there  will  be  depths  in  his  excellence  which  we  shall  never  be  able  to 
penetrate.  We  shall  dehght  in  losing  ourselves  in  his  infinity.  An  un- 
bounded prospect  will  be  extended  before  us  ;  looking  forward  throuoh 
the  vista  of  interminable  ages,  we  shall  find  a  blissful  occupation  for 
our  faculties,  which  can  never  end ;  while  those  faculties  will  retain 

their  vigour  unimpaired,  flourish  in  the  bloom  of  perpetual  youth  ; 

and  the  full  consciousness  remain  that  the  Being  whom  we  contem- 
plate can  never  be  found  out  to  perfection that  he  may  always 

add  to  the  impression  of  what  we  know,  by  throwing  a  veil  of  indefi- 
nite obscurity  over  his  character.  The  shades  in  which  he  will  for 
ever  conceal  himself  will  have  the  same  tendency  to  excite  our  adoring 


328  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

wonder  as  the  effulgence  of  his  glory ;  the  depths  in  which  he  will 
retire  from  our  view,  the  recesses  of  his  wisdom  and  power,  as  the 
open  paths  of  his  manifestation.  Were  we  capable  of  comprehending 
the  Deity,  devotion  would  not  be  the  sublimest  employment  to  which 
we  can  attain.  In  the  contemplation  of  snch  a  Being  we  are  in  no 
danger  of  going  beyond  our  subject ;  we  are  conversing  with  an  infinite 
object  .....  in  the  depths  of  whose  essence  and  purposes  we  are  for 
ever  lost.  This  will  probably  give  all  the  emotions  of  freshness  and 
astonishment  to  the  raptures  of  beatific  vision,  and  add  a  delightful 
zest  to  the  devotions  of  eternity.  This  will  enable  the  Divine  Being  to 
pour  in  continually  fresh  accessions  of  light ;  to  unfold  new  views  of 
his  character,  disclose  new  parts  of  his  perfection,  open  new  mansions 
in  himself,  in  which  the  mind  will  have  ample  room  to  expatiate.  Thus 
shall  we  learn,  to  eternity,  that,  so  far  from  exhausting  his  infinite 
fulness,  there  still  remain  infinite  recesses  in  his  nature  unexplored — 
scenes  in  his  counsels  never  brought  before  the  view  of  his  creatures  ; 
that  we  know  but  "  parts  of  his  ways ;"  and  that  instead  of  exhaust- 
ing our  theme,  we  are  not  even  approaching  nearer  to  the  comprehen- 
sion of  the  Eternal  All.  It  is  the  mysteriousness  of  God,  the  inscru- 
tability of  his  essence,  the  shade  in  which  he  is  invested,  that  will 
excite  those  peculiar  emotions  wliich  nothing  but  transcendent  perfec- 
tion and  unspeakable  grandeur  can  inspire. 

Before  I  conclude  this  discourse,  permit  me  to  remind  you,  that  while 
there  are  many  things  which  God  conceals,  and  thereby  advances  his 
glory,  he  has  made  manifest  whatever  is  essential  for  man  to  know. 
Whatever  is  intimately  connected  with  our  duty  is  most  plainly  taught ; 
whatever  is  important  to  our  welfare  and  happiness  is  fully  revealed. 
Do  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that  he  has  concealed  any  thing  that 
bears  a  near  relation  to  your  interest.  "  He  hath  shewed  thee,  O 
man,  what  is  good."  He  has  distinctly  set  before  you  the  good  and 
evil  of  a  future  life.  It  is  true,  you  know  not  the  time  of  your  death, 
but  you  knov/  that  you  are  mortal ;  you  know  not  the  jjarticulars  of  what 
will  succeed  death,  but  you  know  that  there  will  be  a  resurrection  of 
the  dead,  both  of  the  just  and  also  of  the  unjust ;  that  they  who  have 
done  good  shall  come  forth  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  they  that  have 
done  evil  to  the  resurrection  of  condemnation.  Jesus  Christ  has  dis- 
closed in  the  gospel,  as  lar  as  they  are  important  for  any  practical 
purposes,  the  realities  of  eternity ;  has  announced  to  you  his  second 
appearance  to  raise  the  dead,  and  decide  the  eternal  destinies  of  the 
human  race ;  to  separate  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked,  place 
every  individual  of  mankind  in  one  of  those  classes,  and  divide  them 
one  from  anotlior  as  a  shepherd  divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats. 
He  has  told  you  that  he  will  say  to  the  former,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed, 
into  everlasting  fire ;"  and  to  the  latter,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my 
Father,  inherit  tlie  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world."  He  has  assured  you,  that  those  who  die  in  a  state  of 
impenitence,  unbelief,  and  alienation  from  God  will  sink  into  eternal 
misery ;  that  their  doom  shall  be  to  go  away  into  everlasting  piuiish- 
ment,  the  portion  of  the  devil  and  his  angels.    Those,  on  the  contrary, 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  329 

who  are  righteous,  who  are  penitent  believers,  shall  be  raised  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  then  caught  up  to  meet  the 
Lord  in  the  air ;  afterward  be  assessors  with  him  in  the  judgment ; 
and,  at  the  end  of  that  solemn  process,  shall  enter  with  him  through 
the  gates  into  the  city,  and  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord.  You  are 
assured,  that  immediately  after  the  event  of  your  death  has  taken 
place,  there  will  remain  no  possibility  of  a  change  in  your  condition — 
that  you  will  take  possession  of  all  the  horrors  of  hell,  or  all  the 
glories  of  heaven,  the  moment  that  the  vapour  of  your  life  is  extin- 
guished in  the  element  of  death.  He  has  told  you,  that  you  must 
have  to  do  with  Christ,  either  in  the  exercise  of  faith  and  trust  here? 
or  of  astonishment  and  surprise  when  you  shall  lift  up  your  eyes  and 
see,  in  the  person  of  a  neglected  Saviour,  your  offended  Sovereign  and 
righteous  Judge !  "  Behold,  he  cometh  with  clouds,  and  every  eye 
shall  see  him;  they  also  that  pierced  him  shall  wail  because  of  him." 
"  Before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations."  They  who  have  not 
received  his  gospel,  submitted  to  his  sceptre,  cast  themselves  into  the 
arms  of  his  grace shall  be  banished  for  ever  from  his  pres- 
ence. The  divine  glory  is  intrusted  to  him ;  the  destinies  of  the 
world  are  committed  to  his  hands.  You  have  no  other  resource  but 
to  "  kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish  from  the  way,  when 
his  wrath  is  kindled  but  a  little.  Blessed  are  all  they  that  put  their 
trust  in  him."  He  has  not  only  disclosed  to  you  the  fact,  but  also 
many  of  the  circumstances  and  appendages  of  that  solemn  assize,  in 
which  the  eternal  destinies  of  all  mankind  will  be  determined ;  that 
a  great  white  throne  will  be  spread,  and  from  the  face  of  him  that 
sitteth  upon  it  the  heavens  and  the  earth  will  flee  away ;  that  the 
books  shall  be  opened,  and  allmen  judged  out  of  the  things  written  in 
those  books,  "  according  to  their  works  ;"*  that  the  secrets  of  all 
heai'ts  shall  be  made  manifest ;  and  an  eternity  of  happiness  or  misery 
dealt  out  to  every  one  by  his  mighty  hand,  according  to  the  deeds  done 
in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good  or  evil ;  that  the  earth  and  all  the 
works  that  are  therein  shall  be  burned  up  ;  that  the  heavens  shall  pass 
away  with  a  great  noise,  and  the  elements  melt  with  fervent  heat ; 
that  for  the  abode  of  the  righteous  there  shall  be  new  heavens  and  a 
new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness ;  that  in  the  bottomless 
abyss  prepared  for  apostate  angels  all  the  wicked  shall  be  for  ever 
confined. 

These  are  subjects  on  which  the  wisdom  of  man  can  say  nothing, 

or  can  utter  but   the   feeble    articulations  of  infancy The 

highest  efibrts  of  human  sagacity  reach  not  beyond  the  bounds  of 
time ;  they  cannot  pass  the  threshold  of  eternity.  They  are  scanty 
and  inadequate,  and  leave  the  world  in  darkness  and  misery,  com- 
pared with  these  discoveries  of  revelation.  Do  not  conclude,  from 
the  partial  obscurity  which  attends  some  of  its  truths,  that  religion  is 
not  the  great  concern  of  accountable  immortal  creatures,  or  that  you 
will  be  justified  in  disregarding  such  afl'ecting  prospects  as  these. 

*  Rtv.  XX.  11-13. 


330  THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING. 

No,  my  brethren,  this  obscurity  is  not  such  as  to  hide  from  you  your 
great  interest,  to  make  a  right  choice  doubtful,  or  render  it  matter  of 
the  least  hesitation  whether  you  should  serve  God  or  not.  God  lias 
revealed  enough,  where  the  light  of  the  gospel  comes,  to  give  men  the 
clearest  information  concerning  their  eternal  welfare ;  has  set  before 
them  life,  and  has  set  before  them  death ;  has  pointed  out  the  broad 
and  the  narrow  way ;  shown  them  the  path  of  destruction,  that  they 
may  avoid  it — and  the  way  of  life,  that  they  may  walk  in  it.  Jesus 
Christ  has  come  to  render  these  things  so  plain  and  obvious,  that  even 
"  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  may  not  err  therein."  Though,  with 
respect  to  the  constitution  of  his  person,  mysterious  as  his  Divine 
Father,  being  "  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the  express  image  of 
his  person ;"  with  respect  to  the  practical  purpose  of  his  incarnation, 
the  great  design  of  his  appearance  in  human  flesh,  he  is  "  the  Light 
of  the  w^orld  ;  whoso  foUoweth  him  shall  not  walk  in  darkness,  but 
shall  have  the  light  of  life."*  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life : 
no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father,  but  by  me."t  If  you  are  earnest  in 
seeking  the  salvation  of  your  souls,  you  have  all  the  evidence  you  can 
wish ;  you  are  distinctly  informed,  that  a  remedy  has  been  provided, 
exactly  suited  to  your  case.  Though  you  are  guilty,  the  blood  of 
Christ  can  expiate  that  guilt ;  though  you  are  polluted,  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  can  cleanse  from  that  pollution.  The  gospel  is  every  way 
adapted  to  your  wants  and  misery.  It  has  pleased  the  Father  that 
in  Christ  all  fulness  should  dwell.  You  are  invited  to  come  to  him  at 
this  moment,  to  receive  out  of  that  fulness  all  spiritual  blessings — 
pardon,  sanctification,  and  life  everlasting.  He  has  given  you,  in  refer- 
ence to  these,  "  line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept."  Jesus  Christ 
has  become  the  incarnate  wisdom  of  God.  No  person  now  need 
perish  for  want  of  a  profound  understanding,  since  the  method  of  sal- 
vation has  been  brought  down  to  the  level  of  the  meanest  capacity : 
*'  Wisdom  stands  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  cries.  To  you,  0 
men,  I  call,  and  my  voice  is  to  the  sons  of  men."  Surely  these  are 
the  deep  things  of  God,  which  the  Spirit  who  searchcth  all  things  alone 
has  explored ;  which  the  wisdom  of  the  world  never  knew,  the  tongue 
of  human  eloquence  never  proclaimed,  the  discoveries  of  human  piii- 
losophy  never  approached :  but  now  they  form  the  very  elements  of 
piety,  so  that  the  meanest  person  cannot  neglect  them  without  living 
in  a  practical  defiance  of  God,  and  contempt  of  his  authority.  He  has 
thrown  an  air  of  obscurity  over  a  thousand  other  things,  but  not  over 
the  things  that  make  for  your  peace.  You  are  not  left  in  any  uncer- 
tainty as  to  the  basis  of  hope  towards  God.  He  has  clearly  taught 
you  what  you  must  do  to  be  saved ;  how  you  may  draw  nigh  to  God, 
even  to  his  seat ;  and  through  what  medium  you  may  pour  out  your 
hearts  before  him.  "  Behold,"  he  says,  "  I  lay  m  Zion  a  foundation- 
stone.  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than  that  which  is  laid,  Jesus 
Christ.  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous.     He  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.     Him  that 

*  John  viii.  12.  t  John  xiv.  6. 


THE  GLORY  OF  GOD  IN  CONCEALING.  331 

cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out."     You  know  what  is  that 

path  which  will  bring  you  to  eternal  blessedness that  with 

shame  and  confusion  of  face,  on  account  of  your  past  transgressions, 
you  "  flee  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  you ;"  that  he 
may  "  of  God  be  made  unto  you  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification, 
and  redemption."  This  is  a  plain  path,  open  to  all.  "  Secret  things 
belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God ;"  but  these  are  "  things  revealed,  that 
belong  unto  us  and  to  our  children  for  ever." 

Among  the  things  fully  revealed  is  the  placability  of  God,  his 
readiness  to  receive  the  chief  of  sinners  who  repent  of  iheir  sins  and 
believe  the  gospel.  He  stands  with  open  arms  to  receive  returning 
prodigals.  Though  he  condescends  not  to  reveal  the  secrets  of  his 
wisdom,  counsel,  and  government,  he  has  opened  the  secrets  of  his 
heart,  displayed  the  riches  of  his  compassion  and  grace.  He  says, 
"  Look  unto  me  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth ;  for  I  am 
God,  and  there  is  none  else."  This  is  your  wisdom ;  this  is  your 
happiness ;  this  is  the  only  way  to  everlasting  life.  Let  us  all  apply 
our  hearts  and  consciences  to  the  plain  undeniable  declarations  of 
revelation.  There  will  be  no  excuse  for  any  one  who  lives  a  sinful, 
careless,  and  worldly  life,  and  refuses  to  enter  into  covenant  with  GJod 
by  the  sacrifice  of  his  Redeemer,  and  to  serve  him,  on  account  of  the 
obscurity  of  the  doctrine  of  salvation.  That  obscurity  is  not  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  darken  its  evidence,  or  render  in  the  least  degree  doubtful 
any  thing  that  relates  to  the  duties  and  prospects  of  accountable  im- 
mortal creatures.  There  is  no  knowledge  of  any  value  to  you  in 
comparison  of  this — the  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  him  crucified.  You 
are  called  upon,  by  believing  in  him,  to  unite  yourselves  to  his  promises, 
and  cleave  to  his  unsearchable  riches.  Have  you  done  tins  ?  have 
you  believed  in  this  Saviour,  who  is  the  Light  of  the  world  ?  Are  you 
walking  in  the  light ;  or  treasuring  up  materials  of  accumulated  con- 
demnation, by  saying  to  God,  "  Depart  from  us,  we  desire  not  the 
knowledge  of  thy  ways," — though  he  approaches  you,  not  in  the  char- 
acter of  a  judge,  but  as  the  Father  of  mercies  and  the  God  of  all  grace, 
giving  his  "  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  might 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life  ?"  Let  not  this  be  "  your  condem- 
nation, that  light  is  come  into  the  world,  but  that  you  loved  darkness 
rather  than  light,  because  your  deeds  are  evil."  But  "  walk  in  the 
light  while  you  have  the  light,  lest  darkness  come  upon  you."  Sub- 
mit to  Jesus  Christ ;  be  guided  by  his  holy  truths  and  precepts  ;  and 
you  will  attain  that  happiness  which  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  hath  entered  into  the  heart  of  man." 


332  JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE. 


III. 

ON  THE  DUTY,  HAPPINESS,  AND  HONOUR  OF  MAINTAIN- 
ING THE  COURSE  PRESCRIBED  TO  US  BY  PROVIDENCE, 

Acts  xiii.  25. — As  John  fulfilled  his  course.* 

[preached  at  the  chapel,  maze  pond,  southwark,  may  26,  1811.] 

The  life  of  every  individual  may  be  compared  to  a  river :  rising 
inobscm-ity,  increasing  by  the  accession  of  tributary  streams,  and,  after 
flowing  through  a  longer  or  shorter  distance,  losing  itself  in  some  com- 
mon receptacle.  The  lives  of  individuals  also,  like  the  course  of 
rivers,  may  be  more  or  less  extensive,  but  will  all  vanish  and  disappear 
in  the  gulf  of  eternity.  While  a  stream  is  confined  within  its  banks, 
it  fertilizes,  enriches,  and  improves  the  country  through  which  it  passes ; 
but  if  it  deserts  its  channel  it  becomes  injurious  and  destructive,  a  sort 
of  public  nuisance,  and,  by  stagnating  in  lakes  and  marshes,  its  ex- 
lialations  diiTuse  pestilence  and  disease  around.  Some  p,lide  away 
in  obscurity  and  insignificance ;  while  others  become  celebrated, 
traverse  continents,  give  names  to  countries,  and  assign  the  boundaries 
of  empires.  Some  are  tranquil  and  gentle  in  their  course ;  while 
others,  rushing  in  torrents,  dashing  over  precipices,  and  tumbling  in 
"waterfalls,  become  objects  of  terror  and  dismay.  But,  however  diver- 
sified their  character  or  their  direction,  all  agree  in  having  their  course 
short,  limited,  and  determined  ;  soon  they  fall  into  one  capacious  re- 
ceptacle ;  their  waters  eventually  mix  in  the  waves  of  the  ocean. 
Thus  human  characters,  however  various,  have  one  common  destiny ; 
their  course  of  action  may  be  greatly  diversified,  but  they  all  lose 
themselves  in  the  ocean  of  eternity. 

Few  have  appeared  on  the  stage  of  action  whose  life  was  more  im- 
portant tlian  that  of  the  great  prophet  mentioned  in  my  text.  His 
course  was  a  very  extraordinary  one,  distinguished  in  some  sense  above 
all  others,  our  blessed  Lord  himself  only  and  always  excepted.  John 
was  called  to  a  very  singular  work  ;  his  ministry  formed  an  epoch  in 
the  history  of  the  church.  It  was  the  connecting  link  between  the  two 
dispensations.  He  first  preached  the  baptism  of  repentance  to  all  the 
people  of  Israel.  "  The  law  and  the  prophets  were  until  John  :  since 
that  time  the  kingdom  of  God  was  preached,  and  every  man  pressed 
into  it." 

The  most  extraordinary  events  began  with  the  baptism  of  John,  and 
continued  until  Clirist  was  taken  up  into  heaven.  His  peculiar  oifice 
was  to  announce  tlie  Saviour  of  the  world  as  then  present  in  it :  other 

•  Printed  from  Ihe  notes  of  W.  B.  Gumey,  Esq. 


JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE.  333 

prophets  had  spoken  of  him  as  to  come  ;  "  hut  there  standelh,'"'  says 
John,  "  among  you  one  tvhose  shoe-latchet  I  am  not  worthy  to  vnloose." 
He  was  "  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Prepare  ye  the 
way  of  the  Lord ;"  and  while  he  was  actually  engaged  in  his  commis- 
sion, he  was  able  to  declare,  "  Behold,  he  standeth  among  you.''''  His 
commission  was  high :  to  reclaim  an  apostate  people  ;  "  to  turn  the 
hearts  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  and  the  disobedient  to  the  wisdom 
of  the  just ;"  "  to  make  ready  a  people  prepared  for  the  Lord."  His 
career,  too,  v.'as  extraordinary,  and  his  character  and  course  marked 
and  different  from  all  others.  Much  of  the  wisdom  of  Providence 
appears  in  fitting  the  instrument  to  the  work.  The  work  appointed  to 
John  was  to  reclaim  a  nation  from  its  departure  from  God,  to  rouse  a 
people  sunk  in  insensibility  and  impenitence,  to  preach  repentance,  to 
proclaim  the  approach  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  to  usher  in  a  higher 
economy,  a  new  dispensation  ;  and  for  all  this  he  was  admirably  quali- 
fied. He  Avas  endued  with  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias.  His  spirit 
was  undaunted  and  unyielding ;  he  rebuked  the  pride  of  kings.  He 
was  indifferent  and  insensible  alike  to  the  charms  of  pleasure,  the 
allurements  of  pomp,  the  smiles  of  power,  and  the  frowns  of  great- 
ness. His  whole  soul  was  concentrated  in  his  object ;  he  was  su- 
perior to  the  world, — its  forms  and  fashions  made  no  impression  on  his 
mind,  and  left  no  traces.  He  was  austere  in  his  manner,  abstemious 
in  his  food,  rustic  in  his  apparel :  he  partook  of  the  wildness  of  the 
wilderness  in  which  he  first  made  his  appearance.  "  He  had  his  rai- 
ment of  camels'  hair,  a  leathern  girdle  was  about  his  loins,  and  his  meat 
was  locusts  and  wild  honey."  'lliese  are  lively  images  of  his  work. 
"  Then  went  out  unto  him  Jerusalem  and  all  Judea,  and  the  region 
round  about  Jordan  ;  and  were  baptized  of  him,  confessing  their  sins." 

His  ministry  finished  the  legal,  and  brought  in  the  evangelical  dis- 
pensation. His  voice  was  like  the  strong  wind  that  bloweth — the 
whirlwind  that  maketh  the  earth  to  quake — the  loud  blast  of  that 
trumpet  which  was  to  wake  the  nations — the  earthquake  and  the  whirl- 
wind which  immediately  preceded  "  the  still  small  voice."  His  career 
was  brilliant,  and  his  success  extraordinary.  A  large  portion  of  the 
Jews  became  his  converts,  at  least  for  a  time :  even  the  scribes  and 
Pharisees  listened  to  him.  "  He  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light :" 
the  apostles  themselves  were  many  of  them  first  his  disciples,  and  re- 
ceived from  him  those  instructions  which  prepared  them  for  the  coming 
of  the  Messiah.  By  the  authentic  historian  Josephus  he  is  spoken 
of  in  terms  of  the  highest  encomium.  It  is  remarkable,  above  all, 
that  he  was  the  only  prophet  born  of  woman  who  was  himself  the 
subject  of  prophecy. 

As  his  course  was  short,  so  was  his  end  violent  and  tragical.  He 
fell  a  martyr  to  his  fidelity,  and  the  artifices  of  an  intriguing  woman. 
Having  rebuked  Herod  on  account  of  his  incestuous  intercourse  with 
his  brother's  wife,  he  was  sacrificed  to  her  resentment.  He  disappeared 
soon :  his  course  was  hurried  and  impetuous  ;  eager,  as  it  were,  to 
reach  his  destination,  and  to  minde  his  grand  soul  with  its  kindred 
elements  in  eternity.     He  was  raised  up  for  a  particular  service  ;  and 


334  JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE. 

when  that  was  accomplished  he  was  removed.  He  was  not  the  light, 
but  the  harbinger  of  that  liglu,  the  morning  star  that  was  to  usher  in 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  "  He  bore  witness  of  the  light,  but  he  was 
not  that  light ;"  and  no  sooner  did  that  light  appear  than  he  was  with- 
drawn, that  nothing  might  divide  the  great  homage  due  to  the  Saviour, 
according  to  his  own  prediction — "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease." 

Having,  perhaps,  already  detained  you  too  long  in  contemplating  the 
character  and  conduct  of  John  the  Baptist,  I  shall  occupy  what  re- 
mains of  our  time  in  illustrating  and  inculcating  two  or  three  practical 
observations,  founded  on  the  words  of  the  text. 

I.  That  there  is  a  prescribed  course  or  sphere  of  action,  appointed 
to  every  individual  by  the  Author  of  our  nature. 

We  are  not  a  race  of  independent  creatures  abandoned  to  live  with- 
out control ;  we  are  not  sent  into  die  world  to  follow  the  dictates  of 
our  own  will.  We  cannot  commit  a  greater  mistake  than  to  suppose 
that  we  are  in  any  sense  our  own ;  we  belong  to  another :  even  our 
limbs  and  faculties  do  not  so  much  belong  to  ourselves  as  we  do  to  our 
Maker.  To  do  his  will,  to  conform  to  his  pleasure,  to  keep  his  com- 
mandments, to  fulfil  his  designs,  to  serve  the  end  of  his  government, 
and  to  promote  his  glory, — these  are  tlie  great  ends  of  our  existence ; 
and  to  attain  them  ought  to  be  tlie  fundamental  law  of  our  being  :  other- 
wise we  live  in  vain,  worse  than  in  vain;  and  it  would  have  been  better 
for  us  never  to  have  had  an  existence. 

There  is  one  great  principle  of  a  holy  life  which  is  one  and  the 
same  in  all  who  live  as  they  ought ;  and  that  is,  conforming  ourselves 
to  the  will  of  God,  complying  with  his  plan,  doing  every  thing  to  please 
and  glorify  him.  Thus  our  Saviour  himself  when  in  this  world  was 
devoted  to  his  Father's  will ;  this  was  his  object  constantly,  even  when 
observed  by  those  around  him.  It  cannot  be  better  exemplified  than 
in  that  beautiful  saying  of  his,  when  he  was  requested  to  take  refresh- 
ment at  the  well  of  Jacob — "  1  have  meat  to  eat  that  the  world  know- 
eth  not  of;  my  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish 
his  work :"  and  it  is  doing  the  will  of  God  from  the  heart,  which  im- 
plies a  careful  attention  to  all  the  manifestations  of  it,  and  a  reveren- 
tial regard  to  all  the  discoveries  of  it,  with  a  fixed  and  determined 
resolution  to  comply  with  it  whenever  and  wherever  it  is  known.  This, 
as  I  said,  is  the  end  of  our  existence,  the  business  of  our  life  ;  and  we 
live  to  no  purpose,  or  to  a  bad  one,  but  as  we  conform  to  it.  But, 
although  tliis  is  the  universal  principle  by  which  all  are  to  be  actuated 
and  guided,  yet  it  admits  of  great  and  luunerous  variations  in  its  practi- 
cal application.  The  principle  is  tlie  same  ;  but  when  it  comes  to  be 
acted  upon  by  individuals,  and  imbodied  in  tlie  experience  and  conduct 
of  men  in  the  several  conditions  of  lile,  it  gives  birth  to  an  endless 
diversity.  To  do  the  will  of  God,  and  to  promote  his  glory,  is  the 
proper  object  and  end  of  all :  but  the  manner  in  which  an  apostle,  for 
instance,  was  called  upon  to  do  this,  is  not  that  in  which  an  ordinary 
teacher  is  to  do  it  ;  nor  tiie  manner  of  an  ordinary  teacher  that  of  a 
private  Christian.     The  duties  of  a  sovereign  are  extremely  different 


JOHN  FULFILLED  HLS  COURSE.  335 

from  those  of  his  ministers  and  officers  of  state  ;  and  those,  again, 
from  the  duties  of  inferior  magistrates  ;  and  of  magistrates,  from  those 
of  private  subjects.  Of  the  rich  it  is  required  to  do  good  and  to  com- 
municate, to  sustain  the  cause  of  God  and  truth  in  the  world,  to  sup- 
port public  institutions  of  a  charitable  and  beneficial  nature,  and  freely 
to  distribute  of  their  abundance  to  the  necessities  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures ;  of  the  poor,  to  be  prudent,  diligent,  careful;  and  so  on. 


Thus  the  several  conditions  and  relations  of  individuals  have  their 
respective  duties,  in  which  they  are  to  do  the  will  of  God,  in  '■'■fuJjil- 
ling  their  course ;"  but  in  each  and  all,  the  same  care  and  attention 
ought  to  be  maintained  to  the  one  grand  principle  of  which  we  have 
been  speaking :  one  spirit  should  animate  the  whole ;  one  great  end, 
under  whatever  variety  of  form  and  mode. 

In  the  principles  of  human  nature,  and  in  the  powers  and  faculties 
of  our  bodies  and  senses,  there  is  a  general  agreement :  yet  no  two 
individuals  of  the  human  race  are  alike ;  and  the  same  variety  exists 
in  moral  arrangements.  In  the  elements  which  compose  the  principle 
of  holiness,  the  essential  ingredients  are  the  same ;  but  when  they 
come  to  be  applied  and  imbodied  in  a  right  course  of  action,  they  often 
seem  widely  diiferent.  Although  the  end  is  the  same  in  all,  yet  the 
manner  in  which  this  end  is  viewed  will  be  various  :  the  rays  of  light 
when  blended  in  day  are  simple  and  of  a  uniform  colour ;  but  when 
they  are  refracted  through  a  prism  they  exhibit  all  the  colours  of  the 
rainbow.  Such,  my  brethren,  are  the  principles  of  holiness,  and  their 
diversified  action  in  individuals  :  but,  I  repeat  it,  it  is  doing  the  will  of 
God  in  all ;  this,  this  is  the  object,  the  grand  vital  principle,  that  ani- 
mates good  men  in  all  ages,  in  all  circumstances,  of  all  classes  and 
denominations.  This  is  the  true  catholic  spirit,  which  unites  all  the 
members  of  the  true  church ;  and  in  proportion  as  men  live  well,  and 
live  for  eternity,  this  is  the  ruling  and  governing"  principle, — to  glorify 
God. 

II.  We  observe  that  there  is  a  set  and  limited  time  allotted  to  that 
sphere  and  course  of  action :  "  There  is  an  appointed  time  to  man 
upon  earth."  The  course  of  man  is  not  indeterminate,  but  has  its 
limits,  and  they  are  narrow  :  "  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  hath  but 
a  short  time."  If  we  had  not  the  testimony  of  Scripture  on  this  point, 
it  would  be  reasonable  to  conclude,  from  our  observation  of  nature  and 
the  world  around  us,  that  the  termination  of  human  life  is  not  left  in 
uncertainty,  but  that  it  is  directed  by  the  wisdom  of  Him  who  himself 
is  the  Author  of  existence.  If  "  a  sparrow  falleth  not  to  the  ground 
without  his  knowledge,"  much  less  can  the  death  of  a  human  creature 
take  place  without  his  interposition.  Whether  we  fall  premature  vic- 
tims to  disease,  or  perish  by  what  men  call  accident,  or  sink  under  the 
burdens  of  age,  still  it  is  according  to  the  will  of  God,  "  whose  coun- 
sels shall  stand,  and  who  will  do  all  his  pleasure." 

This  course  is  not  only  limited,  but  it  is  short.  It  is  but  a  little  time 
that  we  spend  on  earth:  "Behold,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "  thou  hast 


336  JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE. 

made  my  days  as  an  handbreadth,  and  my  years  are  as  nothing  before 
thee."  Whether  we  drop  in  infancy  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  or 
are  cut  off  in  youth ;  whether  we  attain  to  manhood,  or  even  to  old 
■d^e ;  still  we  soon  arrive  at  the  boundary,  we  soon  reach  the  end  of 
our  course,  and  often  without  passing  through  its  intermediate  stages. 
"  Behold,  thou  hast  made  my  days  as  an  handbreadth,  and  mine  age  is 
as  nothing  before  thee  !" 

The  stream  of  human  existence  is  rapid  and  impetuous ;  its  waves 
follow  each  other  in  quick  succession,  and  many  are  ingulfed  almost 
as  soon  as  they  appear.  Early  in  infancy  the  stream  glides  away  like 
a  summer  brook,  and  leaves  the  fond  parent  mournfully  to  recall  the 
pleasure  he  received  in  contemplating  its  unsullied  purity  and  its  play- 
ful meanders.  Of  those  who  set  out  with  us  in  this  journey  of  life, 
how  many  have  disappeared  from  our  side  !  what  changes  have  taken 
place  in  the  circle  of  our  connexions  since  we  began  our  course  !  how 
few  can  we  now  number  of  those  with  whom,  in  the  earlier  period  of 
our  lives,  "  we  took  sweet  counsel !"  Every  year  makes  great 
changes.  How  great  are  the  changes,  my  brethren,  which  have  been 
made  in  the  face  of  this  congregation !  AVhere  are  many  of  our 
friends  in  whom  we  delighted  1  They  have  finished  their  course ; 
they  have  passed  through  the  gate  that  opens  into  the  invisible  world  ; 
they  have  completed  their  probation,  and  appeared  at  the  tribunal  of 
Infinite  Majesty  ;  they  have  done  with  the  converse  of  mortals,  and 
have  seen  and  heard  things  which  it  is  impossible  to  utter ;  they  have 
for  ever  finished  their  course. 

III.  Our  happiness  and  our  honour  consist  errtirely  in  completing 
the  course  which  God  has  assigned  to  us.  In  filling  up  the  sphere  of 
action  which  he  has  prescribed,  and  which  his  providence  has  marked 
out  to  us,  there  are  two  great  mistakes  into  which  we  are  liable  to  fall, 
in  our  views  of  this  subject. 

1.  That  there  is  some  other  happiness  and  honour  than  that  which 
is  to  be  found  in  fulfilling  our  course,  or,  in  other  words,  occupying 
that  sphere  of  duty  which  God  hath  been  pleased  to  assign  us.  Some 
are  looking  for  their  satisfaction  to  the  pleasures  of  sin ;  others  to  the 
gratification  which  the  world  affords ;  some  attach  their  notion  of 
happiness  to  some  external  situation  not  yet  found,  and  imagine  it  is 
to  be  met  with  there.  Settle  it  in  your  minds,  my  dear  friends,  that 
the  only  happiness  worth  seeking, — that  which  will  live  in  all  circum- 
stances, and  abide  the  vicissitudes  of  life, — our  only  real  and  proper 
good, — consists  in  fulfilling  our  course,  conforming  to  the  Divine  will, 
irahating  the  Divine  perfections,  obeying  God's  commands,  walking  in 
the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  being  at  peace  with  him.  The  pre- 
scription of  this  as  the  way  to  happiness  is  among  the  fixed  laws 
of  our  nature :  it  is  "  founded  among  the  floods,  deeper  than  the 
foundations  of  the  everlasting  mountains."  It  forms  a  part  of  the 
constitution  of  heaven  itself.  It  was  among  the  original  decrees 
promulgated  by  God  in  the  silence  of  the  imiverse.  Eternal  truth  has 
declared,  that  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom ;  and  to  depart 
from  evil,  that  is  understanding."     Coidd  you  ask  the  children  of  men, 


JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE.  337 

one  by  one,  at  the  verge  of  life, — and  especially  those  who  have  passed 
into  eternity, — from  tiie  very  commencement  of  time,  whether  they 
have  been  happy,  and  what  constituted  their  happiness,  there  is  not 
one  who  would  not  confess  that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  was  the  only 
wisdom,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  Most  High  the  supreme  good. 

If  you  could  find  aretyther  species  of  happiness,  it  would  be  what 
the  wisdom  of  man  has  not  yet  discovered.  You  must  look  into  some 
corner  of  the  world  which  tlie  eye  of  Omniscience  has  not  penetrated  ; 
you  must  defy  Omnipotence,  and  give  the  lie  to  eternal  truth. 
"  Where,"  says  the  Almighty,  "  is  the  place  of  wisdom  ?"  All  crea- 
tures testify  that  it  is  not  in  them.  But  God  declares,  "  The  fear  of 
the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom." 


Accursed  be  that  impiety,  shut  out  from  the  universe  be  the  shadow 
of  that  conception,  which  would  represent  happiness  to  be  found  in 
the  depths,  the  heights,  the  breadths,  or  in  any  thing  separate  from  the 
service,  the  knowledge,  and  the  love  of  the  Eternal  Being,  This, 
"  this  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  thou  hast  sent."  This  fountain  of  water  flows  for  the  refresh- 
ment of  the  meanest  peasant,  as  well  as  of  the  greatest  monarch  ;  this 
is  a  universal  school  of  wisdom,  into  which  all  are  invited.  You 
may  be  happjs  but  there  is  but  one  way,  and  that  is,  "  fulfilling  your 
course,"  consulting  the  will  of  God,  commending  j^ourself  to  the 
guidance  of  his  wisdom  in  a  life  of  religion,  living  not  to  yourselves 
but  unto  God,  seeking  satisfaction  in  the  mortification  of  every  inclina- 
tion which  crosses  his  everlasting  purposes  ;  you  may  even  lose  your 
life  for  his  sake,  and  you  will  find  it. 

2.  The  second  mistake  against  which  we  should  guard  you  is  that 
of  supposing  we  should  be  able  to  conform  ourselves  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  to  our  own  sphere  of  action,  better  in  some  other  state  ; 
and  being  therefore  dissatisfied  with  that  precise  state  in  which  his 
providence  has  placed  us.  The  wisdom  of  each  consists  in  fulfilling 
his  oion  course.  The  course  of  John  the  Baptist  was  ditficult, 
obstructed  with  afflictions,  and  beset  with  dangers  ;  but  he  fulfilled  it. 
How  many  objections  might  he  have  formed  against  the  precise  course 
assigned  him  !  how  many  reasons  might  he  have  advanced  for  sup- 
posing tliat  in  soine  other  sphere  he  might  have  glorified  God  more 
entirely  !     But  he  yielded  himself  to  the  wisdom  of  God. 

Some  are  ready  to  suppose  that  they  should  more  easily  comply 
with  the  dictates  of  religion,  and  more  easily  surmount  temptations,  in 
a  condition  diflerent  from  their  own  ;  that  they  should  have  acted  better 
in  another  combination  of  circumstances ;  and  thus  venture,  if  I  may 
so  speak,  to  lay  the  blame  of  their  defection  and  misconduct  upon  God, 
who  has  fixed  the  bounds  of  their  habitation. 

The  poor  may  easily  imagine,  how  amiably  and  liberally  they  should 
have  acted  if  their  lot  had  been  cast  among  the  rich ;  and  the  rich,  011 
the  other  hand,  how  safely  they  should  have  been  preserved  from  a 
variety  of  snares,  if  they  had  been  screened  by  the  privacy  of  the 

Vol.  in.'— Y 


338  ^       JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE. 

poor.  The  young  will  ascribe  their  errors  to  the  impetuosity  so 
natural  to  their  age ;  those  who  are  more  advanced  are  ready  to 
imagine  that  if  they  enjoyed  more  leisure,  and  were  not  so  entangled 
with  tlie  cares  and  perplexities  of  their  active  station,  they  should  be 
better  able  to  attend  to  the  concerns  of  a  future  life.  The  aged  are 
wishing  for  the  energy  and  capacity  of  attention  which  belong  to 
youth :  their  time,  they  plead,  is  passed ;  it  is  too  late  for  them  to 
change. 

But  all  these  are  great  mistakes.  Our  true  happiness  is  to  be  found 
in  fulfilling  our  present  course,  conforming  ourselves  to  the  duties  of 
that  station  in  which  we  are  placed,  in  consulting  tlie  will  of  God 
under  the  circumstances  in  which  we  actually  are,  and  improving  the 
opportunity  which  our  condition  affords.  If  we  do  not  7ww  love  and 
fear  the  Supreme  Being, — if  we  cannot  7iow  resist  temptation,  mortify 
corruption,  and  devote  ourselves  to  the  service  of  God, — if  we  noio 
feel  no  resolution  "  to  run  the  race  that  is  set  before  us," — we  may  be 
assured  that  a  change  of  circumstances  will  not  avail.  It  is  not  a 
change  of  state  that  we  want,  but  a  change  of  heart :  the  disease  is 
within,  in  the  state  of  our  minds,  the  bent  of  our  dispositions,  which 
will  follow  us  into  another  situation,  produce  the  same  effects,  and 
place  us  at  the  same  distance  from  happiness.  What  you  want,  my 
brethren,  and  what  we  all  want,  is  the  renovating  principle  of  Divine 
grace,  that  sanctifying  principle  within  us ;  to  have  the  law  of  God 
written  in  our  hearts,  without  which  no  other  change  will  avail.  The 
grace  of  God  in  the  heart  will  preserve  us  in  any  and  every  situation, 
and  in  all  circumstances  will  be  fruitful  of  advantage  to  our  souls  :  it 
will  guide  us  and  keep  us  humble  in  prosperity,  cheer  us  in  adversity, 
and  render  its  discipline  salutary ;  it  will  sustain  and  direct  us  in  life, 
support  us  in  death,  and  go  wilii  us  into  eternity.  It  was  this  that 
enabled  Joseph  to  preserve  his  cliastity  in  the  midst  of  temptation  ; 
that  supported  Daniel  in  tlie  very  jaws  of  lions  ;  and  inspired  the  con- 
fidence of  Shadrach,  Meshech,  and  Abednego  in  "  the  flaming  fiery 
furnace."  This  is  the  principle  which  brings  God  to  our  view  in 
seasons  of  the  greatest  trial,  by  piercing  the  cloud  of  flesh,  and 
enabling  us  to  see  him  that  is  invisible  to  the  eyes  of  sense.  The 
man  who  possesses  this  principle  will  adorn  an  elevated  condition 
with  humility  ;  and  a  condition  of  obscurity  and  poverty  with  integrity 
and  resignation. 

If,  therefore,  there  be  any  persons  in  this  assembly  that  feel  a  con- 
viction of  the  importance  of,  a  religious  life,  and  a  course  of  right 
actions,  but  yet  are  sensible  of  a  moral  inability,  let  them  have  recourse 
to  the  fountain  of  Divine  grace.  Come  to  Him  who  is  eyes  to  the 
blind,  ears  to  the  deaf,  feet  to  the  lame.  Cast  yourselves  at  the  feet 
of  the  Saviour  ;  be  conscious  of  your  weakness,  misery,  and  guilt. 
Pray  to  Him  who  is  the  fountain  of  all  light,  that  the  beams  of  his 
grace  may  be  communicated  to  you ;  tliat  his  light  may  shine  into 
your  hearts,  to  give  unto  you  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory 
of  God. 

This  will  govern  the  heart  as  well   as  guide  the  understanding, 


JOHN  FULFILLED  HIS  COURSE.  339 

direct  the  will,  and  regulate  the  affections  :  this  will  make  you  holy  ; 
this  will  subdue  temptation ;  tliis  will  be  an  antidote  against  the  infec- 
tion of  evil  examples.  "  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the 
world,  even  our  faith  ;  for  who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but 
he  that  believeih  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God?"  This  will 
surmount  the  disorders  of  life,  the  fear  of  death,  and  conduct  the  soul 
to  everlasting  felicity. 

Finally,  my  brethren,  let  each  of  us  attach  himself  with  more 
seriousness,  alacrhy,  and  fervour  than  ever,  to  the  proper  duties  of 
his  station  ;  let  each  consider  in  what  instances  he  fails  to  fulfil  his 
course ;  let  each  examine  himself,  and  see  wherein  he  fails  to  observe 
"the  good  and  perfect  law  of  God."  Let  him  discover  "his  easily 
besetting  sin,"  and  see  how  far  this  has  perverted  his  course,  and 
turned  his  affections  from  God. 

The  time  is  coming  when  you  will  perceive  that  there  is  no  true 
wisdom  to  be  found  but  in  doing  the  will  of  God.  The  value  of  time 
is  to  be  estimated  by  the  opportunity  which  it  gives  us  of  laying  up 
riches  for  eternity.  He  is  the  most  steady  pursuer  of  his  own  interest 
Avho  has  "  laid  up  treasure  in  heaven,  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth 
corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal." 

Some  of  you,  perhaps,  have  not  even  begun  :  you  have  done  nothing 
yet  for  the  glory  of  God  ;  you  have  been  living  entirely  to  yourselves  ; 
and  your  lives,  it  may  be,  are  approaching  to  a  close.  Begin  then  to 
be  wise  ;  reflect  on  what  you  have  heard;  and  remember,  it  will  be 
ratitied  by  the  impressions  of  a  dying  hour. 

There  are  some  present,  perhaps,  who  are  near  to  the  end  of  their 
course,  and  have  the  satisfaction  to  reflect  that  they  have  had  their 
conversation  with  God.  Happy  such  persons,  whatever  their  station 
in  life  may  be !  Let  the  consideration  of  your  having  so  nearly  ful- 
filled your  course  make  you  more  diligent  and  circumspect  in  what 
remains  of  it.  In  a  very  short  time  your  conflict  will  be  over,  your 
corruptions  will  be  slain.  So  near  to  victory,  do  not  let  the  weapons 
of  warfare  fall  out  of  your  hands :  "  Be  faithful  unto  death,  and  you 
shall  receive  a  crown  of  life." 

The  memory  of  John  the  Baptist  is  perpetuated  with  honour,  be- 
cause he  "  fulfilled  his  course  ;"  while  that  of  Herod  and  Pontius 
Pilate  are  covered  with  infimy.  Which  of  these  characters  will  you 
imitate  1  Will  you  be  among  those  whom  God  condescends  to  honour, 
to  whom  he  will  say,  "  AVell  done,  good  and  faithful  servants,  enter 
ye  into  the  joy  of  your  Lord  V  or  will  you  now  surround  yourselves 
with  a  few  sparks  of  worldly  pleasure,  and  lie  down  in  eternal  dark- 
ness ? 

Whenever  the  gospel  is  preached,  this  alternative  is  set  before  you  ; 
the  alternative  of  "shining  like  the  sun  forever;  or  of  awaking  to 
shame  and  everlasting  contempt."  If  there  were  no  judgment-seat  at 
which  we  must  appear,  we  might  have  our  election  between  peace  of 
conscience  and  the  gratification  of  our  desires.  But  our  course  here 
is  a  preparation  for  our  course  hereafter.     Never  dissever  in  your 

Y2 


340  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE, 

minds  a  life  of  piety  and  a  life  of  honour ;  there  is  no  glory,  no  hap- 
piness, but  in  the  love  and  service  of  God. 

Hear  the  language  of  the  apostle  Paul,  in  the  near  prospect  of  a 
violent  death :  "  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith ; 
henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness." 

Do  you  believe  this  1  if  you  do  not,  you  are  not  Christians  ;  you 
wear  a  mask.  But  if  you  do,  the  conviction  and  confession  of  this 
truth  will  for  ever  be  a  source  of  torment  to  you,  unless  you  now 
imitate  the  conduct  of  this  apostle,  give  yourselves  up  to  God,  and 
embrace  and  pursue  a  holy  and  religious  life  in  Christ  Jesus. 


IV. 

CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE,  CONDESCENSION,  AND 
EXALTATION. 

Phil.  ii.  5-9. — Let  this  mind  be  in  you,  which  was  also  in  Christ 
Jesus :  who,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be 
equal  with  God :  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon 
him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men : 
and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself,  and  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.  Wherefore  God 
also  hath  highly  exalted  him* 

[preached  at  the  chapel  in  dean^-stkeet,  southwark,  jaxE  27,  1813.] 

In  this  chapter  it  is  manifest  from  the  context  that  the  apostle  is 
inculcating  upon  professors  of  the  gospel  a  spirit  of  condescension 
and  humility.  "  Let  nothing,"  saith  he,  "  be  done  through  strife  or 
vainglory,  but  in  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than 
himself:  look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every  man  also  on 
the  things  of  others." 

His  intention  is  to  enforce  a  disposition  that  enters  very  deeply  into 
the  lowly  spirit  of  the  gospel,  an  attention  to  the  circumstances  of 
others,  a  preference  of  their  interests  to  our  own,  and  a  willingness  to 
condescend  to  make  great  sacritices  of  our  own  interest  and  gratifica- 
tion, of  our  own  honour  and  advantage,  to  promote  their  good.  It  is 
that  particular  species  of  Christian  virtue  and  benevolence  which 
stands  opposed  to  the  tenacious  mainloiiance  of  outward  distinctions 
and  dignities  that  insists  on  all  the  honour  and  pre-eminence  which  we 
might  be  supposed  to  have  a  right  to  claim;  and  lays  by  its  own 
advantage  and  honour  for  the  sake  of  promoting  the  spiritual  and  tem- 

*  From  the  notes  of  W.  B.  Gurncy,  Esq.,  corrected,  in  a  few  casi-s,  by  comparison  with  the  notes 
sent  by  six  other  fViends.    See  INIr.  Hall's  own  sketch  of  tlie  argument,  p.  24-28.— Ed. 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  341 

poral  interests  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and  especially  of  our  fellow- 
christians. 

Of  this  disposition  he  presents  a  striking  example  in  the  noble  con- 
duct of  our  Saviour,  and  in  the  great  doctrines  which  are  exhibited  in 
his  incarnation  and  converse  in  tliis  world,  as  well  as  in  the  wonderful 
example  of  love  and  humility  which  he  showed  in  becoming  "  obedient 
unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross ;"  and  he  shows  that  by  such 
a  conduct  as  this  it  was  that  Jesus  Christ  rose  in  our  nature  to  that 
inexpressible  majesty  with  which  he  is  at  present  invested.  "Where- 
fore God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name  which 
is  above  every  name,  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should 
bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  on  earth,  and  things  under  the 
earth  ;  and  that  every  tongue  should  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord, 
to  the  glory  of  God  the  Father." 

Permit  me  to  request  your  attention  while  I  endeavour  to  set  forth, 
in  some  imperfect  measure,  that  example  of  great  condescension  and 
humility  which  is  exhibited  in  the  passage  before  us. 

Now,  in  the  idea  of  condescension,  we  must  suppose  a  superior  and 
an  inferior, — one  by  whom  that  virtue  is  exercised,  and  another  to 
whom  it  is  shown.  Where  there  is  a  perfect  equality  there  is  no 
room  for  the  exercise  of  this  particular  species  of  virtue ;  much  less 
where  a  superior  only  is  in  question :  for,  though  we  may  behave  our- 
selves with  the  utmost  propriety  towards  an  equal  or  a  superior,  yet  it 
is  impossible  that  he  should  be  the  object  of  our  condescension ;  this 
would  involve  a  very  great  absurdity  in  language. 

Whenever  we  speak  of  this  species  of  excellence,  it  always  implies 
that  it  is  an  inferior  towards  whom  it  is  exerted ;  this  is  the  necessary 
pre-requisite  for  the  exercise  of  this  particular  form  of  Christian  and 
moral  virtue.  In  like  manner  it  is  evident  that  a  stoop,  a  descent  from 
some  dignity  or  previous  elevation,  is  always  supposed  in  the  exercise 
of  this  branch  of  virtue.  It  always  implies  a  resignation  of  some 
claim  to  a  superior  station,  a  foregoing  of  some  advantage  or  pre-emi- 
nence. It  is  also  necessary  that  such  humiliation  should  be  perfectly 
voluntary  ;  a  voluntary  lowering  of  ourselves  beneath  the  station  which 
was  previously  occupied  ;  a  laying  down  of  some  advantage  or  dignity. 
There  is  a  strong  contrast  supposed  in  a  series  of  acts  of  condescen- 
sion, or  even  in  one,  between  the  station  we  previously  occupied  and 
that  in  which  we  place  ourselves.  There  is  also  an  implied  opposi- 
tion between  something  we  possess  and  something  we  resign,  and  the 
station  to  which  we  are  reduced  in  consequence  of  resigning  it, — the 
station  to  which  we  bring  ourselves, — which  forms  a  powerful  opposi- 
tion or  contrast  to  what  we  might  have  assumed  or  previously  pos- 
sessed. 

If  our  Saviour  condescended,  in  the  instance  before  us,  it  is  mani- 
fest there  must  have  been  some  previous  elevation  from  which  he 
descended — from  which  he  passed  to  those  acts  which  are  here  speci- 
fied. It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  make  out  an  example  from  our 
Saviour's  case,  to  specify  the  particular  circumstances  here  implied, 
which  stand  opposed  to  other  circumstances :  the  elevation  must  come 


342  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE, 

first,  and  the  voluntary  depression  of  himself  must  come  afterward. 
This  is  impUed  in  the  very  nature  of  things.  In  all  acts  of  conde- 
scension we  must  suppose  the  person  who  performs  them  to  be  acting 
in  a  manner  perfectly  voluntary  ;  there  must  be  no  degradation  in  the 
case,  nor  any  thing  diat  occurs  by  what  we  call  chance  or  accident, 
nor  yet  the  usuaf  arrangements  of  Providence  :  nothing  that  thus 
occurs  can  give  any  scope  to  the  exercise  of  this  disposition.  Though 
the  manner  in  which  that  depression  may  be  borne  may  evince  much 
patience  and  equanimity,  and  much  of  the  proper  spirit  of  Christian 
resignation  to  the  Divine  will,  yet  it  cannot  be  called  an  act  of  conde- 
scension, if  it  is  to  be  traced  to  the  irresistible  operations  of  Divine 
grace,  and  much  less  still  if  it  is  the  inevitable  consequence  of  an 
irresistible  law  of  nature.  No  one  ever  tliought  of  praising  the  great- 
est sovereign  on  earth  on  the  ground  of  his  condescension  in  being  a 
man,  though  this  places  him  in  the  most  essential  particulars  on  a  level 
with  his  subjects  ;  a  participation  of  human  nature  being  a  greater 
instance  of  equality  than  any  circumstance  that  can  produce  inequality. 
No  one,  I  say,  would  think  of  praising  him  on  that  account,  because 
it  is  an  effect  of  a  law  under  which  he  was  born,  and  which  excludes 
his  choice  and  volition. 

But  not  only  is  every  instance  of  condescension  supposed  to  involve 
the  exercise  of  choice  ;  but  there  must  be  no  very  forcible  obligation, 
no  such  strong  and  palpable  obligation  to  the  act  that  expresses  the 
condescension,  as  that  the  contrary  of  it  would  shock  our  moral  feel- 
ings, would  appear  exceedingly  unbecoming,  and  excite  a  great  degree 
of  moral  disapprobation.  Though  condescension  be  a  great  ornament 
to  the  character  of  a  Christian,  and  springs  from  the  principles  of  his 
religion,  h  is  of  a  very  different  nature  from  the  obligations  of  justice 
or  even  of  humanity.  It  is  of  such  a  nature,  indeed,  that  it  is  always 
supposed  the  not  exercising  it  would  not  at  the  same  time  havejde- 
stroyed  all  claim  to  virtuous  and  honourable  conduct.  If  there  be  a 
forcible  obligation  to  such  sort- of  conduct,  that  conduct  can  never  be 
entitled  to  the  praise  of  eminent  condescension.  For  example,  nothing 
can  be  more  plain  than  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man  to  exercise 
humanity  and  strict  justice  towards  all  with  whom  he  has  to  do.  But, 
as  the  obligations  to  humanity,  in  cases  of  extreme  distress,  are  very 
forcible  and  strong,  the  neglect  of  them  lays  a  person  open  to  great 
blame ;  and  the  practice  of  them,  in  some  instances,  in  proportion  to 
their  great  obligation,  deprives  the  conduct  of  the  title  to  high  praise 
'.nd  commendation.  In  all  cases  the  more  palpable  the  obligation  to 
conduct  is,  the  less  is  there  praiseworthy  in  complying  with  that  obli- 
gation ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fainter  the  previous  obligation  is 
supposed  to  be,  the  stronger  is  the  instance  of  virtue  from  attending  to 
so  comparatively  feeble  a  sense  of  obligation. 

Now,  it  is  manifest,  that  if  our  Saviour  be  proposed  as  a  pattern,  it 
must  be  in  some  instance  wonderfully  condescending  and  humble,  dif- 
ferent from  what  might  have  been  expected  ;  that  we  must  not  merely 
look  for  what  is  virtuous  and  worthy,  but  for  that  which  is  so  extraor- 
dinary and  singular  as  to  justify  his  being  exhibited,  in  this  part  of  his 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  343 

conduct,  as  our  example.,  If  he  be  proposed  as  an  imitable  model  of 
condescension,  it  must  be  for  the  exercise  of  this  virtue  in  a  very  eminent 
and  extraordinary  degree;  for  notliing  else  can  justify  his  being  held 
up  as  a  pattern  to  all  ages.  If,  while  it  was  imitable  in  its  kind,  it  had 
not  surpassed  all  comparison  in  degree,  it  would  then  have  excited  a 
vicious  competition, — it  would  have  contradicted  the  very  purpose  for 
which  it  was  produced,  which  was  to  set  our  Saviour  inexpressibly 
high  in  our  esteem,  and  excite  us  to  emulate  his  conduct,  as  far  as  we 
are  able,  with  the  most  entire  consciousness  that  we  can  only  make  an 
imperfect  approach  to  it.  We  must  look,  then,  for  some  very  extra- 
ordinary instance  of  condescension  in  our  Lord,  something  which  must 
strike  all  eyes,  something  which  cannot  be  accounted  for  without  sup- 
posing inexpressible  love  in  the  breast  of  the  Saviour,  and  such  an 
infinite  compassion  towards  a  lost  world  as  must  place  him  beyond  all 
comparison,  or  even  the  power  of  being  imitated,  in  this  respect. 

Now,  there  are  two  ways  of  interpreting  this  passage  of  Scripture  ; 
and  these  remarks  have  been  made  to  enable  us  to  judge  which  is  the 
best  interpretation,  which  best  corresponds  with  the  intention  of  the 
sacred  writer.  If  there  be  any  doubt  about  the  meaning  of  the  text 
separately  taken,  and  it  is  capable  of  two  distinct  interpretations,  that 
must  be  allowed  to  be  the  just  one  which  best  corresponds  with  the 
purpose  for  which  the  passage  is  produced  ;  that  which  furnishes  the 
argument  tor  which  the  passage  is  brought,  that  which  most  illustrates 
the  particular  moral  duty  intended  to  be  inculcated,  must  be  confessed 
to  be  the  true  one,  in  opposition  to  that  which  does  not  inculcate  that 
duty.  It  is  allowed  that  an  attention  to  the  scope  of  a  passage,  and  a 
consideration  of  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  written,  is  one  of  the  most 
certain  guides. 

In  interpreting  this  passage,  and  in  determining  which  is  to  be  pre- 
ferred of  contrary  interpretations,  you  must  consider,  not  merely  what 
meaning  the  words  may  bear,  but  which  of  the  meanings  proposed  best 
corresponds  with  the  intention  of  the  inspired  writer,  by  exhibiting  our 
Saviour  as  a  marvellous  example  of  condescension.  If  there  be  a 
capacity  of  putting  another  construction  on  the  words  without  any  great 
force  or  violence  to  them,  which,  at  the  same  lime,  does  not  exhibit  a 
striking  example  of  condescension, — one  which  deprives  our  Saviour 
of  the  place  he  here  occupies  as  a  pattern,  on  the  supposition  of  which 
it  becomes  difficult  to  conceive  of  any  condescension  at  all  remarkable, 
— we  are  justified  in  setting  aside  that  interpretation  ;  not  simply  be- 
cause it  appears  less  natural  in  itself,  but  because  it  is  quite  unsuitable 
to  the  place,  by  destroying  and  invalidating  the  purpose  for  which  it 
is  brought. 

I  shall  briefly  propose  to  you  the  opposite  interpretations  which  have 
been  given  to  the  passage  before  us. 

First,  then,  let  us  take  that  of  those  who  deny  the  divinity  of  Christ 
and  the  incarnation,  and,  of  consequence,  all  the  doctrines  connected 
with  them  :  their  interpretation  is  as  follows  : — "  Let  this  mind  be  in 
you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus,  who,  being  in  the  form  of  God," 
that  is,  say  they,  being  possessed  of  extraordinary  miraculous  powers. 


344  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE, 

"  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God ;"  which  they  interpret, 
whether  justly  or  not  I  shall  not  now  inquire,  did  not  eagerly  catch  at, 
or  -was  not  eager  to  maintain,  the  idea  of  any  likeness  to  God,  or 
equality  with  God, — "  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation  ;"  that  is,  say 
they,  made  himself  poor,  or  reduced  himself  to  a  state  of  poverty  and 
meanness  ; — "  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,"  which  word 
they  interpret  slave,  because,  if  die  term  servant  stood,  it  is  plain  there 
could  be  no  instance  of  condescension ;  they  therefore  consider  him 
as  subjecting  liimself  to  tlie  abject  state  of  a  slave  ; — "  and  was  made 
in  the  likeness  of  man,"  which,  say  they,  is  like  common  men,  not 
distinguishing  himself  by  outward  distinctions,  but  placing  himself  on 
a  level  with  the  meanest  part  of  mankind  ; — "  and,  being  found  in 
fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross."  Now  this  is  the  interpretation  of  those 
who  would  set  aside  the  pre-existence  of  Christ  in  a  state  of  majesty 
previously  to  his  entrance  into  our  Avorld,  and  the  obvious  argument 
that  hence  results  in  favour  of  condescension  from  the  pre-eminent 
dignity  and  glory  of  the  Saviour.  But  Tet  us  consider  whether  this 
interpretation  can  possibly  stand,  consistently  with  the  pre-requisites 
we  have  before  mentioned ;  whether  the  instances  here  adduced  can 
possibly  exhibit  any  striking  example  of  condescension  on  the  part 
of  the  Saviour.  "  Being  in  the  form  of  God,"  on  the  supposition  of 
its  meaning  his  being  possessed  of  miraculous  powers,  must  be  the 
only  elevation  he  possessed  above  common  men.  This  was  his  great 
distinction ;  but  this  he  never  laid  aside.  Here,  therefore,  instead  of 
his  conduct  exhibiting  a  great  example  of  condescension,  the  station 
he  occupied  he  never  came  down  irom  ;  he  never  lost  it  for  a  moment ; 
for  the  exercise  of  miraculous  powprs  continued  through  the  whole 
of  his  ministrv  with  increasing  splendour  and  advantage.  With  respect 
to  the  translation  I  have  adverted  to,  and  which  I  shall  not  now  com- 
bat, because  the  requisite  criticisms  appear  to  me  very  untit  for  a 
popidar  assembly ;  let  us  take  it  that  he  did  not  eagerly  catch  it,  or 
was  not  eager  to  maintain,  his  equality  and  likeness  to  God,  still  I 
affirm  that  this  is  not  an  instance  of  condescension,  because  there  is 
upon  creatures  a  forcible  obligation  not  to  contend  for  equality  willi 
God  :  and  althougli  it  would  be  extremely  criminal  not  to  comply  with 
it,  yet  there  can  be  no  high  degree  of  virtue  in  abstaining  from  so 
atrocious  a  degree  of  guilt.  For  a  subject  to  refrain  from  assuming 
the  dignity  of  sovereign  would  excite  no  admiration ;  no  one  would 
think  of  highly  praising  his  virtue  because  he  did  not  raise  a  standard 
of  rebellion  against  his  sovereign.  In  proportion  to  the  force  of  the 
obligation  to  abstain  from  such  pretensions,  in  the  same  degree  is  such 
conduct  considered  only  in  a  negative  way  ;  that  is,  as  exempted  from 
censure,  but  not  entitled  highly  to  praise  ;  in  some  cases,  indeed,  not 
at  all.  But  the  apostle  brings  it  as  a  proof  of  condescension  and 
humility,  that  Christ  Jesus  did  not  eagerly  affect,  as  they  say,  an 
cquaUty  with  God,  or  did  not  catch  at  it.  How  can  that  be  an  instance 
of  condescension  ?  The  example  must  surpass,  I  apprehend,  all  hu- 
man comprehension.     "  But  made  himself  of  no  reputation,"  or,  as 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  345 

the  expression  literally  is,  emptied  himself.  Emptied  himself  of  what  1 
And,  it  is  added,  "  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant."  We  might 
suppose  that  his  emptying  himself  must  mean  his  divesting  himself, 
as  the  expression  signifies,  of  sometliing  before  possessed,  of  some 
distinction  and  glory  before  mentioned ;  and  the  only  one,  even  in  the 
esteem  of  our  adversaries,  is  the  form  of  God ;  but,  upon  their  suppo- 
sition, he  did  not  empty  himself  of  it  at  all ;  he  retained  it ;  for,  during 
his  whole  ministry  he  exercised  miraculous  powers,  and  never  more 
so  than  in  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus,  which  immediately  preceded 
and  accelerated  his  death.  But,  the  text  says,  "  he  made  himself  of 
no  reputation :"  you  may  suppose  that  the  writer  is  going  to  tell  us 
for  what  reason  he  took  upon  himself  the  form  of  a  servant.  Here, 
the  "  form  of  God"  being  mentioned  before,  it  is  manifest  that  the 
"  form  of  a  servant"  is  the  intended  antithesis.  But,  upon  the  sup- 
position of  Jesus  Christ  having  no  existence  before  he  came  into  our 
world,  there  can  be  no  interpretation  given  to  it,  unless  we  interpret 
servant,  slave,  and  suppose  that  he  degraded  himself  to  the  service 
of  a  common  slave.  But  if  Jesus  Christ  acted  the  part  of  a  slave, 
or  sustained  the  character  of  a  slave,  it  must  be  either  in  relation  to 
God  or  to  man.  With  respect  to  men,  it  is  manifest  he  did  not  act  the 
part  of  a  slave,  he  never  sustained  that  capacity  at  all,  much  less 
took  upon  him  that  character  permanently  ;  he  never  M'as  in  captivity: 
it  was  not  then  his  relation  to  society.  With  respect  to  his  Heavenly 
Father,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  it  can  be  applied  to  his  service  to 
God ;  nothing  can  be  so  absurd :  no  service  which  the  Divine  Being 
can  be  supposed  to  prescribe  to  an  accountable  creature,  can  be 
viewed  in  a  degrading  light.  And  where  is  there  any  example  of  the 
term  slave  signifying  a  very  mean  servant  of  God  1  Are  not  the  angels 
themselves  styled  the  servants  of  God  ?  Does  not  Paul  call  himself 
the  servant  of  God  1  Does  not  the  angel  in  the  Apocalypse  style 
himself  the  fellow-servant  of  John?  Would  our  very  adversaries 
themselves  so  exceedingly  disfigure  the  language  of  Scripture  as  to 
style  these  the  slaves  of  God  ?  What  can  it  then  be  for,  but  to  answer 
a  purpose  perfecdy  palpable,  without  being  at  the  same  time  able  to 
assign  any  just  and  proper  meaning  to  the  term?  "And  was  made 
in  the  likeness  of  men  :"  here  it  is  represented  as  an  act  of  great  con- 
descension in  our  Saviour  that  he  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men ; 
but  how  could  he  assume  any  other  appearance  than  that  of  a  man  ? 
how  could  he  Axil  to  appear  in  that  character,  with  no  other  attribute 
belonging  to  him  than  that  of  a  human  being?  "Being  found  in 
fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross."  Now,  these  expressions  evi- 
dently are  intended  to  introduce  a  proof  of  our  Saviour's  great  conde- 
scension and  humility ;  but  none  of  them  answer  this  purpose  in  the 
least  degree,  but  on  the  supposition  of  there  being  some  previous 
dignity  or  rank  from  which  he  descended.  There  is  no  contrast  on 
the  supposition  of  mere  humanity,  between  this  and  the  previous 
state ;  there  is  no  forcible  or  palpable  opposition  between  what  he 
became  and  what  he  was :  he  always  was  a  servant,  he  always  icas 


846  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE, 

in  the  likeness  oi  man,  could  be  nothing  but  man ;  and  yet  his  being 
so  is  represented  as  a  marvellous  instance  of  condescension  and 
humility  in  the  Redeemer !  On  the  supposition  that  Jesus  Christ  did 
not  exist  before  he  came  into  our  world,  the  order  of  things  is  inverted  ; 
for  the  dignity  of  our  Saviour,  his  elevation,  came  afterward,  upon  this 
supposition,  and  his  depression  came  first :  he  had  no  elevation  of  an 
earthly  kind  at  all  from  which  he  could  condescend,  and  he  is  the 
greatest  example,  if  he  were  no  more  than  man,  of  a  person  raising 
himself  to  great  dignity  and  authority  from  the  meanest  and  most 
abject  beginning.  No  "  form  of  God"  was  perceived  in  him  in  the 
commencement  of  his  ministry.  He  possessed  miraculous  powers, 
it  is  true ;  but  he  possessed  them  to  the  end,  and  these  he  never  lost. 
"  My  Father  worketh,  and  I  work."  Upon  the  supposition  of  his 
mere  humanity,  the  contrast  is  of  a  different  kind :  he  is  the  most 
wonderful  example  of  a  person  rising  from  the  most  obscure  beginning, 
commencing  m  lowly  circumstances,  and  ascending  to  grandeur. 

But  if  we  take  the  expressions  according  to  their  obvious  and  popular 
import,  they  afford  the  most  striking  illustration  of  the  purpose  of  the 
apostle  in  exhibiting  the  condescension  and  humility  of  the  Saviour. 
"  Who,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal 
with  God,  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon  himself  the 
form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men."  Here  the 
form  of  God  and  the  form  of  a  servant  are  contrasted  with  each  other  ; 
and  as  the  form  of  a  servant  is  universally  understood  as  acknowledg- 
ing that  he  was  a  servant,  what  can  we  suppose  the  being  in  the  form 
of  God  to  mean,  but  that  he  was  God  ;  though  that  may  not  be  its  only 
meaning?  He  is  said  to  have  taken  upon  himself  the  form  of  a 
servant :  here  try  the  meaning  of  those  who  oppose  the  divinity  of 
Christ,  that  he  was  not  eager  to  Catch  at,  or  to  retain  the  likeness  of 
God ;  and  then,  upon  the  supposition  of  his  being  the  Son  of  God, 
possessing  the  Divine  nature,  and  uniting  himself  to  mortal  flesh,  you 
will  find  that  the  latter  perfectly  corresponds  with  the  intention  of  the 
apostle.  And  his  emptying  himself,  and  taking  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  is,  indeed,  a  great  instance  of  condescension,  on  the  suppo- 
sition of  his  being  a  Son ;  for  there  is  a  visible  contrast  between  the 
being  a  son  and  a  servant,  which  the  apostle  observes  when  he  re- 
marks, that  "  though  he  were  a  son,  yet  learned  he  obedience  by  the 
things  which  he  suffered."  There  is  also,  upon  this  supposition,  a 
plain  meaning  assigned  to  the  whole,  the  words  of  existence  differing 
from  the  words  of  assumption.  "  Who  being  in  the  form  of  God, 
MADE  himself  of  no  reputation,  took  upon  himself  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant, was  Made  in  the  likeness  of  men,  and  being  found  in  fashion  as 
a  man,  he  humbled  himself.''''  For  here  we  have  the  state  he  formerly 
possessed  expressed  by  the  word  being  ;  and  the  word  made,  signi- 
fying that  he  became  so  by  being  made  so ;  agreeably  to  what  the 
apostle  John  says,  "  The  Word  was  with  God,  and  the  Word  was 
God;"  and  further,  "The  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among 
■us."  The  same  apostle,  Paul,  expresses  the  reason  of  his  assummg 
a  nature  that  did  not  belong  to  him,  an  inferior  nature  : — "  Forasmuch 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  347 

as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  like- 
wise took  part  of  the  same,  that  throiigli  death  he  might  destroy  him 
that  had  the  power  of  death,  tliat  is,  the  devil."  But  what  possible 
contrast  of  this  nature  can  be  found  upon  the  supposition  of  Christ's 
mere  humanity  ?  Where  was  there  any  descent  from  the  form  of  God  ? 
And  why  should  that  which  could  not  be  avoided,  which  was  not  volun- 
tary, be  expressed  in  the  way  it  is, — "  Took  upon  himself  the  form 
of  a  servant," — "  humbled  himself,"  and  so  on,  when  the  very  nature 
of  things,  the  universal  law  of  nature,  rendered  it  impossible  for  him 
to  be  other  than  a  mere  man,  and  consequently  a  servant  of  the  Most 
High  God  ? 

The  doctrine  of  Christ's  humiliation  and  incarnation  is  expressed  in 
the  most  forcible  manner,  and  worthy  of  our  most  attentive  admiration 
and  adoration.  "  Being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  him- 
self;" he  still  humbled  himself.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  which  was  a  wonderful  act  of  condescen- 
sion ;  he  was  not  satisfied  with  taking  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant ; 
he  not  merely  assumed  a  very  low  station  in  society ;  but  he  still 
humbled  himself:  he  descended  lower  than  the  mere  level  of  human 
nature  required ;  he  descended  deeper  and  deeper,  and  was  not  con- 
tented till  he  had  reached  the  very  bottom  of  humiliation,  till  he  "  be- 
came obedient  unto  death."  Nay,  even  that  was  not  sufficient ;  there 
Avas  one  death  more  ignominious,  more  painful,  more  replete  with 
agony  and  shame,  than  any  other ;  and  for  the  purpose,  the  glorious 
purpose,  of  his  coming  into  our  world,  he  selected  that  death,  he  deter- 
mined to  die  that  death,  that  very  death ;  and  made  that  his  peculiar 
province  in  which  he  should  appear,  to  the  destruction  of  our  spiritual 
enemies,  and  the  conquest  of  the  powers  of  darkness.  "  He  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross."  It  was  from  this 
cross,  which  was  the  lowest  step  to  vvliich  he  could  possibly  descend, 
that  he  arose  to  his  crown ;  '\l  was  from  thence  that  "  he  ascended  up 
on  high,"  that  he  was  elevated  to  the  right-hand  of  God ;  that  tliere 
might  be  exhibited  in  his  person  the  most  wonderful  contrast  of  the 
original  dignity  which  he  laid  aside,  then  of  the  scene  of  shame  and 
suffering  which  he  endured,  and  afterward  of  the  majesty  and  glory 
with  which  he  invested  the  nature  in  which  he  suffered.  He  first  de- 
scended from  the  throne  to  the  cross  ;  and  then,  in  order  that  he  might 
take  up  our  nature  with  him,  and  make  us  partakers  of  his  glory,  he 
carried  a  portion  of  that  nature  from  the  cross  to  the  throne,  ascended 
into  heaven,  and  from  thence  gives  a  portion  of  the  benefit  of  it  by  the 
outpouring  of  his  Spirit,  by  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  the  saving 
of  innumerable  multitudes  of  them  that  believe;  and  all  this  in  conso- 
nance with  the  purposes  of  God,  whom  it  became,  as  the  Great  Legis- 
lator, "  in  bringing  many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their 
salvation  perfect  through  sufferings." 

There  is  only  one  expression  more  on  which  I  shall  make  a  remark  ; 
and  that  is,  that  it  is  not  said  he  hecamc  a  servant,  or  became  a  man : 
all  this  is  implied ;  the  form  of  expression  is  different.  Nor  is  it  here 
asserted  that  he  was  God,  though  this  is  strongly  implied.     But  it  is 


348  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE 

thus  expressed:  "  Who,  benig  in  the  form,  of  God,  took  upon  him  the 
form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men."  Though 
this  plainly  implies  that  Jesus  Christ  was  God,  yet  the  form  of  expres- 
sion, no  doubt,  includes  something  more ;  it  is  intended  to  express  a 
distinct  idea  from  his  being  called  God ;  and  it  appears  to  me  to  cor- 
respond exactly  with  the  design  of  the  apostle,  for  his  design  was  to 
contrast  oiir  Lord's  slate  at  different  times.  He  had  assumed  a  form 
under  the  old  dispensation  wherein  he  appeared  in  various  ways,  or  in 
different  manifestations.  When  Joshua  was  about  to  enter  on  his  war 
with  the  Canaanites,  he  observed  a  majestic  and  glorious  personage 
standing  over-against  him  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand ;  and 
Joshua  went  unto  him,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Art  thou  for  us,  or  for 
our  adversaries  ?  And  he  said,  Nay,  but  as  Captain  of  the  hosts  of 
the  Lord  am  I  come.  And  Joshua  fell  on  his  face  to  the  earth,  and 
did  worship,  and  said  unto  him.  What  saith  my  Lord  unto  his  servant  ? 
And  the  Captain  of  the  Lord's  host  said  unto  Joshua,  Loose  thy  shoe 
from  off  thy  foot,  for  the  place  whereon  thou  standest  is  holy."  The 
same  command  God  gave  from  the  burning  bush.  And  in  Ezekiel 
you  find,  "  one  in  the  form  of  tlie  Son  of  Man  seated  on  a  throne," 
with  a  sapphire  firmament ;  and  Jesus  Christ  is  represented  as  distinct 
from  the  Father,  presenting  himself  to  the  Father  ;  so  that  he  is  said 
by  the  apostle  Paul  to  have  been  tempted  of  the  Israelites  in  the  wil- 
derness. He  manifested  himself,  but  he  manifested  himself  in  the 
form  of  God,  with  a  majesty  and  glory  suited  to  his  work.  But  he 
laid  aside  that  form  ;  he  divested  himself  of  it,  and  took  upon  him  the 
form  of  a  servant,  a  human  form  ;  and  not  merely  a  human  form,  but 
he  humbled  himself  still  more,  and  became  obedient  unto  death.  He 
was  found  in  fashion  as  a  man ;  it  was  a  wonderful  discovery,  an 
astonishing  spectacle  in  the  view  of  angels,  that  he  who  was  in  the  form 
of  God,  and  adored  from  eternity,  should  be  made  in  fashion  as  a  man. 
But  why  is  it  not  said  that  he  was  a  man  ?  For  the  same  reason 
that  the  apostle  wishes  to  dwell  upon  the  appearance  of  our  Saviour, 
not  as  excluding  the  reality,  but  as  exemplifying  his  condescension. 
His  being  in  the  form  of  God  did  not  prove  that  he  was  not  God,  but 
rather  that  he  was  God,  and  entitled  to  supreme  honour.  So,  his 
assuming  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  being  in  the  likeness  of  man,  does 
not  prove  that  he  was  not  man,  but,  on  the  contrary,  includes  it;  at 
the  same  time  including  a  manifestation  of  himself,  agreeably  to  his 
design  of  purchasing  the  salvation  of  liis  people,  and  dying  for  the 
sins  of  the  world  by  his  sacrilicing  himself  upon  the  cross.  Besides, 
there  is  a  peculiar  propriety  in  these  terms  fashion  and  likeness  of 
man,  though  not  intended  to  exclude  his  proper  humanity ;  for  tliere  is 
a  high  and  glorious  distinction  in  the  humanity  of  Christ  as  contrasted 
with  every  other:  every  other  man  is  tainted  with  sin,  and  partakes  of 
original  corruption.  Ikit  when  the  angel  addressed  the  Virgin  Mary, 
he  said.  "  That  holy  thing  that  shall  be  born  of  thee  shall  be  called 
the  Son  of  God."  From  that  contagion  which  belongs  to  the  human 
race  he  was  exempted  by  a  miraculous  conception.  Every  other  man 
possesses  two  parts,  body  and  spirit ;  but  this  divine  man,  tliis  "  God- 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  349 

man,"  consisted  of  three  component  parts, — a  soul,  a  body,  and  that 
Eternal  Word,  or  Logos,  which  formed  a  part.  He  is  represented  as 
taking  upon  himself  this  form,  and  "  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man," 
exalted  to  the  adoration  of  the  universe,  which  beheld  the  greatest 
Avonder  that  ever  was  exhibited  to  the  world,  in  Him  that  was  God 
becoming  man  ;  for,  if  it  be  a  wonder  that  God  should  make  man,  how 
much  more  astonishing  that  God  should  becotne  man!  "Wherefore 
God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name  that  is  above 
every  name  :"  this  is  the  reason.  If  you  ask,  how  came  a  portion  of 
human  nature  thus  to  be  dignified  ?  how  came  dust  and  ashes  (for 
such  was  a  component  part  of  the  Saviour)  to  be  placed  at  the  right- 
hand  of  God,  in  the  midst  of  the  inaccessible  glory  ?  It  was — because 
in  that  nature  he  suffered,  that  he  was  humbled  and  bowed  to  the 
cross ;  and  this  was  the  way  in  which  he  ascended  to  his  crown. 
What  an  example  is  this  of  the  force  of  humility  and  the  efficacy  of 
condescension ;  of  the  wonderful  power  which,  according  to  the  rules 
and  laws  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  condescension,  patient  sufiering,  and 
lowliness  have  in  raising  us  to  true  dignity.  This  is  the  way  the 
Saviour  ascended  to  the  crown. 

Be  it  remembered,  "  He  became  obedient."  There  was,  therefore, 
no  necessity  to  obey  at  all.  But  he  assumed  voluntarily  a  nature 
which  made  him  capable  of  suffering :  and  he  obeyed  in  that  nature 
even  unto  death,  "  the  death  of  the  cross  ;"  in  order  that  he  might  make 
it  becoming  the  character  of  God,  as  a  Moral  Governor,  to  grant  par- 
don to  a  whole  race  of  apostate  and  guilty,  but  believing  and  penitent, 
creatures. 

And  yet  we  are  told  that  Christ  is  not  to  be  called  a  Saviour  exclu- 
sively ;  we  are  told  that  Paul,  and  Peter,  and  others  shared  in  the 
glory  of  saving  mankind.  Nay,  we  are  told  that  all  this  argument 
of  the  apostle  in  the  text,  conclusive  as  it  is,  both  from  the  words  and 
phrases  which  are  employed,  and  from  the  disposition  in  the  mind  of 
Christ  which  the  whole  of  the  reasoning  implies, — that  all  this,  instead 
of  proving  the  pre-existence  and  divinity  of  Clrrist,  proves  nothing  of 
the  kind.  Indeed,  further,  the  leader  of  tlie  Unitarians  in  the  present 
day  declares,  that  no  words  can  ever  be  clear  enough  to  prove  to  him 
that  Christ  is  God ;  and  that  if  he  should  find  any  such  words  in  the 
Scripture,  they  would  only  serve  to  weaken  the  evidence  of  the  truth 
of  the  Christian  revelation,  and  would  not  convince  him  that  the  state- 
ment was  true.  With  such  men  we  can  have  no  commimion.  Such 
a  spirit  shuts  up  all  the  avenues  to  truth  and  conviction ;  nay,  it  is  the 
height  of  arrogance  and  practical  infidelity  in  a  creature  like  man. 
For  it  not  only  leads  to  error, — dangerous,  fatal,  destructive  error, 
growing  out  of  a  spirit  diametrically  opposite  to  that  inculcated  in  the 
text, — but  it  goes  to  the  frightful  length  of  setting  itself  above  reve- 
lation ;  of  limhing  the  wisdom  of  the  Infinite  Mind ;  by  affirming  that 
the  revealed  declarations  concerning  the  incomprehensible  God  cannot 
be  true :  thus  subverting  the  whole  foundation  of  faith. 

Be  careful  then,  my  brethren,  that  "  the  same  mind  be  in  i/oti  which 
was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."     If  you  wish  to  be  great  in  tJie  kingdom  of 


350  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE, 

God,  go  in  the  same  path.  If  you  wish  to  possess  true  dignity,  lower 
yourself.  If  you  wish  to  reign  with  him,  you  must  also  suffer  Avith 
him  :  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take 
up  his  cross,  and  follow  me."  We  caimot  follow  the  Saviour  without 
pursuing  the  same  path ;  we  must  tread  in  the  same  steps :  "  If  any 
man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me  ;"  and 
"  Where  I  am,  there  shall  also  my  servant  be  ;"  for  "  he  that  honoureth 
me,  him  will  my  Father  honour." 

This  wonderful  mystery  of  our  redemption  is  of  the  most  practical 
tendency  ;  not  only  because  it  exhibits  such  affecting  views  of  the  evil 
of  sin,  and  of  the  price  of  our  redemption,  but  because  it  shows  the 
connexion  between  humility  and  true  dignity.  The  glory  of  the  cross 
consists  in  this — that  it  is  the  way  to  the  crown.  The  Christian  reli- 
gion is  distinguished  from  all  others,  by  turning  men's  minds  from 
aspiring  to  dignity  here,  inducing  them  to  forego  their  own  good,  to  cast 
away  their  lives,  to  make  shipwreck  of  all  but  faith,  to  give  up  them- 
selves to  God's  will  entirely,  to  follow  wherever  the  Saviour  leads,  and 
to  press  into  the  celestial  kingdom  through  agonies,  and  crosses,  and  tor- 
ments— through  every  possible  obstacle.  This  is  the  way  the  Saviour 
went,  and  it  is  in  this  way  we  must  expect  to  be  partakers  of  his  glory. 
"Let  this  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus." 

The  time  forbids  my  enlarging  upon  this  subject,  by  pressing  the 
practical  conclusion  from  it  in  its  different  branches  ;  but  I  cannot  close 
without  urging  upon  all,  "  Let  the  same  mind  be  in  you  which  was 
also  in  Christ  Jesus ;"  "  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  It  is  one  of  the  first  principles  of  our  religion,  one  of  the 
elementary  truths  of  Christianity,  that  "He  who  was  rich,  for  our  sakes 
became  poor,  that  we  through  his  poverty  might  be  made  rich."  "  Let 
the  same  mind  be  in  you." — You  who  are  possessed  of  property, 
devote  that  in  the  way  it  becomes  the  servants  of  so  divine  a  Master. 
Consider  the  use  he  would  have  made  of  that  portion  of  this  world's 
good,  which  he  declined  as  an  example  of  patience  and  humility. 
Consider  to  what  purpose  he  employed  his  heavenly  powers  ;  and  to 
the  same  purpose  employ  your  natural  advantages  and  civil  resources. 

When  did  he  employ  that  word  which  commanded  angels  and  devils, 
and  subdued  the  very  elements  of  nature,  for  the  purposes  of  ostenta- 
tion? When  were  his  words  any  thing  but  spirit  and  life?  When  did 
they  operate  to  any  purpose  but  to  communicate  health  to  the  dying, 
purity  to  the  guilty,  pardon  to  the  sinful,  and  salvation  and  benefits  to 
all  around  him  ?  "  Let  the  same  mind  he  in  you  which  was  also  in 
Christ  Jesus."  You  possess  a  portion  of  this  world's  good :  if  j^ou 
are  true  Christians,  you  will  consider  this  as  belonging  to  your  Lord,  as 
belonging  to  the  poor  of  his  people,  us  belonging  to  the  M-orld — to  all 
but  yourselves,  and  will  consider  all  as  having  a  much  greater  prop- 
erty in  it,  morally  considered,  than  yourselves  ;  you  will  regard  your- 
selves as  the  stewards  of  God,  and  the  most  unjust  persons  (though 
not  amenable  to  any  Imman  tribunal,  but  to  your  Saviour  and  your 
Lord)  if  you  employ  them  to  any  other  purposes  than  those  of  benefi- 
cence.    If  you  deem  it  peculiarly  honourable  to  die  rich,  and  to  leave 


CONDESCENSION,  AND  EXALTATION.  351 

estates  afterward  to  your  children,  to  have  them  "  called  by  your  own 
name,"  that  name  will  be  a  name  of  infamy.  No,  my  brethren,  be 
assured  such  a  mistaken  course  will  cancel  your  name,  will  blot  it  out 
of  the  Lamb's  book  of  life  for  ever.  Let  then  "  the  same  mind  be  in 
you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  And  those  who  are  elevated 
in  rank,  let  them  not  use  it  merely  for  the  purpose  of  levying  homage 
from  men,  of  making  a  vain  show,  of  appearing  in  artificial  splendour. 
And  those  who  are  possessed  of  influence,  let  them  use  it  also  for  the 
glorv  of  God,  and  the  good  of  their  fellow-creatures.  Never  was  any 
one  so  exalted  as  our  Saviour,  and  never  did  any  one  make  such  a  use 
of  his  exaltation.  He  shrouded  it  in  the  deep  veil  of  humanity ;  he 
concealed  it  from  the  view  of  the  world.  None  but  the  piercing  eye 
of  faith,  illuminated  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  could  behold  it.  The  world 
knew  him  not.  "  We  beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only- 
begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth."  Do  you  then,  my 
brethren,  employ  your  influence  in  that  manner.  Never  make  it  the 
means  of  keeping  at  a  distance  from  you  the  poor,  the  distressed,  and 
the  afflicted.  "  Mind  not  high  things,  but  condescend  to  men  of  low 
estate."  "  Look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every  man  also 
on  the  things  of  others."  Do  not  dwell  on  the  contemplation  of  your 
own  greatness  ;  do  not  separate  yourselves  from  your  fellow-creatures. 
Do  not  suffer  yourselves  to  be  hedged  in  and  fenced  round  from  them 
by  the  riches  of  this  world ;  but  communicate  them  to  others,  and 
pray  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  right  use  of  them,  that  they  mav 
turn  to  incorruptible  riches  and  righteousness  ;  that  these  perishing 
riches  and  this  evd  mammon  may  not  seduce  you  from  the  right  way 
to  the  everlasting  mansions.  If  you  are  not  faithful  over  a  little,  how 
shall  you  be  faithful  over  much?  and  if  you  are  not  faithful  to  that 
which  is  the  property  of  God,  who  lends  it  to  yau  for  a  time,  but  gives 
to  none  a  discretionary  use  of  it,  how  shall  he  give  you  "  that  crown 
of  righteousness  that  fadeth  not  away,"  that  glory  which  will  be  apart 
of  your  nature,  which  will  satisfy  your  souls,  and  make  you  great,  and 
happy,  and  blessed,  to  all  eternity  ? 

"  Let  noihing  be  done,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  through  strife  or  vain- 
glory ;  but  in  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than 
themselves."  Let  men  learn  of  Jesus  Christ  that  humility  which  dis- 
posed him  to  behave  as  if  he  had  been  the  lowest  and  meanest  of  all. 
Our  blessed  Saviour  was  not  unconscious  of  his  high  dignity,  but  he 
knew  that  it  was  important  to  exhibit  the  spirit  of  his  religion  in  great 
humility.  When  he  knew  that  he  was  shortly  to  go  to  his  Father,  and  that 
"  the  Father  had  given  all  things  into  his  hands,  then  he  took  a  towel, 
and  girded  himself,  and  washed  his  disciples'  feet."  When  he  was 
about  to  take  possession  of  universal  empire,  and  heaven,  earth,  and 
hell  were  to  be  submitted  to  him, — when  he  knew  that  he  vi^as  just 
about  to  be  crowned  with  immortal  glory,  after  he  had  sustained  the 
Divine  frown  for  the  salvation  of  men,  even  ^Hhcji  he  took  a  towel, 
and  girded  himself,  and  washed  his  disciples'  feet,  saying,  Ye  call 
me  Master  and  Lord,  and  ye  say  well,  for  so  I  am ;  if  I  then,  your 
Lord  and  Master,  have  washed  your  feet,  ye  ought  also  to  wash  one 


353  CHRIST'S  PRE-EXISTENCE. 

another's  feet," — to  condescend  to  thelowest  office  of  Christian  benefi- 
cence and  love. 

Again :  "  Let  the  same  mind  be  in  you  which  Avas  also  in  Christ 
Jesus,"  in  his  entrance  into  the  world  :  consider  with  what  sympathy 
he  regarded  mankind,  and  what  drew  him  from  his  exalted  seat  of 
majesty  on  high.  How  did  he  look  down  upon  a  distant  race  far 
removed  from  him,  and  compassionate  their  misery !  how  did  he,  as  it 
Avere,  for  a  season  annihilate  himself!  how  did  he  take  their  curse  upon 
him,  and  invest  himself  with  their  nature  !  He  looked  upon  them  widi 
unutterable  and  tender  compassion :  "  Let  the  same  mind  be  in  you 
which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  You  live  among  men  dead  in  tres- 
passes and  sins ;  you  see  nations  innumerable  sitting  in  darkness  and 
in  the  shadow  of  death.  Consider  what  compassion  actuated  the 
Saviour's  breast  in  coming  down  from  heaven  to  pay  the  price  of  our 
redemption,  to  make  peace  with  God,  and  bring  in  everlasting  righteous- 
ness. What  compassion  touched  Ills  holy  and  beneficent  mind,  in- 
ducing him  to  die  a  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  his  people  !  Do  you  have 
the  same  mind :  compassionate  the  distant  and  miserable  cluldren  of 
men  involved  in  darkness.  Carry  your  eyes  to  the  remotest  borders 
of  the  earth ;  and  be  not  satisfied  initil  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  Lord,  till  all  men  have  seen  the  salvation  of  God. 
Let  no  distance  of  place,  no  diflerence  of  circumstances,  prevent  your 
exerting  yourselves  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  Him  "  who  made  him- 
self of  no  reputation."  Let  nothing  prevent  your  feeling  a  participa- 
tion of  the  common  nature.  God  has  provided  for  sympathy  by  making 
you  "  of  one  blood  ;"  so  that  you  must  act  contrary  to  the  laws  of 
nature,  if  you  do  not  sympathize  with  your  fellow-creatures.  "  Let 
the  same  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus ;"  tlien  will 
the  religion  of  Christ  extend  itself  far  and  wide.  Let  this  mind  distin- 
guish the  followers  of  Christ ;  and  all  men  will  confess  that  God  is 
among  you  of  a  truth.  You  will  be  all  of  one  heart,  and  one  mind  : 
you  will  be  actuated  by  such  a  desire  as  will  render  you  beneficial  to 
all  your  fellow-creatures,  as  will  make  you  the  "  light  of  the  world," 
and  "  the  salt  of  the  earth."  Then  would  iniquity  stop  its  mouth,  and  so 
you  would  confound  infidelity  and  impiety.  Seriously  study  the  doc- 
trine of  the  cross,  place  yourselves  there,  consider  what  are  the  morals 
of  the  cross;  consider  what  are  the  dispositions  the  cross  inculcates; 
what  is  the  influence  of  the  fact  that  you  are  purchased,  redeemed, 
and,  by  his  Spirit,  prepared  for  a  seat  at  the  right-hand  of  God ;  what 
the  everlasting  advantages  which  accrue  from  being  purchased  by  such 
blood,  saved  by  such  humility ;  what  the  doctrines  of  the  Saviour's 
incarnation,  sacrifice,  and  ascent  to  heaven  inculcate  on  Christian 
hearts.  It  opens  a  fountain  of  love,  of  Monderful  and  inexhaustible 
compassion  ;  and  it  is  at  that  fountain  of  love  we  should  study  ;  for  we 
shall  never  be  truly  happy  till  we  dn  study  the  spirit  of  our  religion  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross.  We  should  enter  more  deeply  into  the  dying 
love  of  Christ,  that  we  may  "  comprehend,  with  all  saints,  what  is  the 
height,  and  depth,  and  breadth,  and  length  of  that  love  which  passeth 
knowledge,  and  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  353 

Finally,  my  brethren,  we  see  here  the  great  and  intimate  connexion 
between  the  practical  principles  of  religion,  and  the  great  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  Take  away  the  incarnation  of  our  Lord,  and  his  sacri- 
fice upon  the  cross,  and  these  sublime  and  glorious  truths  lose  all  their 
meaning :  this  great  example  dwindles  into  nothing,  if  we  lose  sight 
of  Christ's  dignity,  glory,  and  humility.  It  is  this  which  renders  his 
sacrifice  of  infinite  value.  It  is  this  which  renders  his  cross  so  inex- 
pressibly awful  and  so  interesting.  It  is  this  which  makes  it  so  in- 
'^•niteJy  precious  to  his  people.  The  cross  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
appropriate,  the  appointed  rendezvous  of  heaven  and  earth  ;*  the 
meeting-place  between  God  and  the  sinner :  thus  the  principles  of  the 
cross  become  the  savour  of  life  unto  life,  or  of  death  unto  death. 
Deprive  Jesus  Christ  of  his  dignity,  deprive  his  person  of  divinity  and 
pre-existence  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  all  these  momentous  truths 
dwindle  into  inexpressible  futilities.  Doctrines  meant  to  warm  and 
kindle  our  hearts  fill  us  with  perplexity.  When  we  look  for  a  glo- 
rious mystery,  we  find  nothing  but  the  obscurity  and  perplexity  that 
make  men  rack  their  invention  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  those  pas- 
sages which  it  is  plain  the  apostle  poured  forth  in  a  stream  of  exquisite 
affection  and  delight. 

But  "  we  have  not  so  learned  Christ."  Hold  fast  the  cross  of  Christ. 
You  who  are  not  acquainted  with  the  Christian  religion,  come  to  Jesus 
Christ  by  faith ;  cast  yourselves  upon  the  dying  love  of  the  Saviour ; 
receive  him  by  faith.  And  those  of  you  who  have  received  the  Saviour, 
study  him  more  and  more ;  impress  still  more  and  more  upon  your 
minds  the  lessons  which  Christ  crucified  teaches.  This  is  the  power 
of  God  and  the  wisdom  of  God  unto  salvation ;  and  by  means  of  this 
only  shall  we  grow  up  into  conformity  to  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour ; 
which  God  grant  of  his  infinite  mercy.     Amen. 


V. 

THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

Psalm  cxlv.   1 1 . — "  They  shall  speak  of  the  glory  of  thy  kingdom, 
and  talk  of  thy  power."i 

[preached    at    KETTERING,    IN   JUNE,    1813.] 

The  absolute  dominion  of  God  is  a  subject  worthy  to  be  celebrated 
by  all  creatures :  it  is  the  frequent  theme  of  praise  in  the  Scriptures, 
which  were  dictated  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

There  is  another  kingdom,  which  God  has  intrusted  to  tho  hands 

*  See  p.  85-88. 

t  Printed  from  the  notes  of  (he  Rev.  S.  HiUyard,  of  Bedford.    For  Mr.  Hail's  o\vn  notes,  see 
p.  88-92. 

Vol.  III.— Z 


354  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

of  his  well-beloved  Son — the  mediatorial  kingdom  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  This  is  the  subject  of  the  most  exalted  praise,  and  of  the  most 
glorious  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament,  as  well  as  of  all  the 
histories,  doctrines,  and  revelations  of  the  New  Testament.  This  is 
styled  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  of  Gud :  it  is  the  kingdom  which 
the  God  of  heaven  has  set  up  among  men  upon  the  earth.  It  is  con- 
trasted Avith  the  kingdom  of  the  power  of  darkness  ;  and  its  subjects 
are  described  as  being  translated  out  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness, 
into  "  the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son,"*  which  is  a  kingdom  of  "  mar- 
vellous light." 

Whether  the  Psalm  before  us  is  designed,  in  particular,  to  celebrate 
this  dispensation  of  the  Son  of  God,  I  shall  not  now  inquire ;  but  as 
the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  so  conspicuous  an  object  in  both  Testaments, 
and  is  the  only  one  among  men  by  whose  government  their  happiness 
can  be  secured,  it  cannot  be  improper,  from  the  words  before  us,  to 
direct  your  attention,  on  the  present  occasion,  to  some  particulars 
relating  to  the  glory  of  this  kingdom. 

I.  The  glorv  of  this  kingdom  is  manifested  in  its  origin.  It  had  its 
origin  in  infinite  mercy  and  grace.  It  was  the  object  of  the  divine 
and  eternal  purposes  of  the  Father ;  an  object  to  which  all  other  pur- 
poses were  subservient.  It  entered  into  the  counsels  of  the  Eternal 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world  was  laid.  It  was  a  grand  design, 
intended  to  include  the  reign  of  God  over. the  mind  of  man  ;  a  purpose 
to  establish  a  kingdom,  the  subjects  of  which  should  be  raised  to  be 
partakers  of  the  same  nature  as  their  sovereign'. 

In  order  to  establish  this  kingdom,  it  was  necessary  that  the  Son 
of  God  should  become  incarnate;  .the  "mighty  God"  must  be  a 
"child  born  unto  us," -that  he  might  have  the  "government  laid  upon 
his  shoulders,"  and  be  the  "  Prince  of  peace"  to  his  redeemed  people. 
God  purposed  to  have  his  tabernacle  among  men,  and  to  be  their  God ; 
but  this  he  could  not  do,  consistently  with  his  truth  and  holiness,  till 
an  atonement  was  made  to  his  law  iii  the  dc^aih  of  the  person  of  his 
Son.  The  institution  of  sacrifices  under  the  law  intimated  that  "  with- 
out the  shedding  of  blood  there  was  no  remission;"!  their  insufficiency 
evidenced  the  necessity  of  a  sacrifice  of  transcendent  value :  "  Then, 
said  he,  sacrifices  and  offerings  thou  didst  not  desire  ;  lo  !  I  come  to 
do  thy  will,  O  God."|  Thus  the  foundation  of  the  kingdom  was  laid 
in  the  incarnation  and  atonement  of  the  Son  of  God ;  a  foundation 
proportionate  to  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  edifice  that  was  to  be 
erected. 

The  doctrines  of  the  gospel  were,  and  are,  the  grand  instruments 
in  the  hand  of  the  T>ord  Jesus  for  bringing  souls  into  subjection  to  his 
sceptre.  The  King  must  ride  forth  conquering  and  to  conquer;  all 
his  subjects  must  be  rescued  and  subdued  :  but  what  a  battle  is  that 
in  which  he  engages  !  "  Every  battle  among  men  is  with  confused 
noise,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood  ;"  but  this  is  "  with  burning  and 
with  fire."  The  warfare  is  entirely  spiritual ;  it  is  carried  on  by  the 
light  of  truth  and  the  burning  of  conviction.     The  mere  testimony  of 

*  Coloa.  i.  13.  t  Heb.  ix.  22.  .+  Psalm  xl.  6-S. 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  355 

the  gospel,  in  the  mouth  of  the  witnesses,  produced  eiTeuts  more  won- 
derful than  any  that  were  ever  produced  by  the  violence  of  the  sword  ; 
by  this  the  powers  of  darkness  were  shaken,  their  temples  deserted, 
and  their  oracles  silenced.  Heavenly  truth  combated  with  sophistry 
and  error,  and  gained  a  decisive  victory,  ihough  her  opponents  were 
armed  with  all  the  persecuting  powers  of  the  kingdoms  of  this  world. 
The  Psalmist,  foreseeing  the  contest,  said,  long  since,  "  Gird  thy  sword 
on  thy  thigh,  O  most  Mighty,  and  in  thy  majesty  ride  on  prosperously, 
because  of  truth,  and  meekness,  and  righteousness."*  These  have 
had  no  share  in  the  extension  of  human  dominion,  but  were  the  prin- 
cipal instruments  that  were  used  in  the  extension  of  the  Kedeeraer's 
kingdom.  To  these,  in  his  hand,  and  by  his  Spirit,  the  success  of 
the  gospel  is  to  be  ascribed  :  by  these  his  people  become  a  "  willing 
people  in  the  day  of  his  power  ;"  a  conquered,  yet  a  willing  people ; 
led  captive,  yet  obedient.  This  is  a  glorious  inanner  of  raising  a 
kingdom,  worthy  of  him  who  is  a  Spirit,  and  who  reigns  by  spiritual 
and  intellectual  means  in  the  hearts  of  his  people.  Could  we  trace 
the  means  by  which  God  has  established  his  empire,  it  would  fdl  our 
minds  with  admiration  and  our  lips  with  praise :  then  should  we 
"speak  of  the  glory  of  his  kingdom,  and  talk  of  his  power." 

II.  The  glory  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  manifested  in  the  manner 
and  spirit  of  its  administration. 

The  last  words  of  David  describe  the  manner  of  administering  this 
government : — "  The  anointed  of  the  God  of  Jacob,  and  the  sweet 
Psalmist  of  Israel  said.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  spake  by  me,  and  his 
word  was  in  my  tongue.  The  God  of  Israel  said,  the  Rock  of  Israel 
spake  to  me.  He  that  ruleth  over  men  must  be  just,  ruling  in  the  fear 
of  God.  And  he  shall  be  as  the-  light  of  the  morning  when  the  sua 
riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds ;  as  the  tender  grass  springing 
out  of  the  earth  by  clear  shining  after  rain."t 

The  most  essential  quality  in  the  administration  of  any  government 
is  justice ;  and  justice  is  most  conspictious  in  this  administration. 
The  Sovereign  confers  no  benefits  on  his  friends,  and  inflicts  no 
punishments  on  his  enemies,  but  what  are  consistent  with  righteous- 
ness. "  With  righteousness  shall  he  judge  the  poor,  and  reprove  with 
equity  for  the  meek  of  the  earth :  and  he  shall  smite  the  earth  with 
the  rod  of  his  mouth,  and  with  the  breath  of  his  lips  shall  he  slay  the 
wicked.  And  righteousness  shall  be  the  girdle  of  his  loins,  and  faith- 
fulness the  girdle  of  his  reins."|  He  will  render  to  each  of  his 
subjects,  not  for  their  works,  yet,  according  to  their  works.  He  estab- 
lishes his  holy  law  as  the  rule  of  their  conduct,  and  makes  use  of  such 
motives  to  excite  them  to  holy  and  spiritual  obedience  as  are  suitable 
to  their  nature,  bodt  as  rational  and  as  fallen  creatures.  As  the  law 
was  first  employed,  so  it  is  still  used  for  conviction,  for  alarming  the 
consciences  even  of  the  redeemed  and  the  regenerate,  and  to  excite  to 
repentance  and  to  renewed  exercises  of  reformation. 

The  administration  of  this  kingdom  is  also  benign  and  gracious ;  it 

*  Psalm  xlv.  3,  4.  12  Sam.  xxiii.  1-4.  }  Isaiah  xi.  4,  5. 

Z3 


356  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

is  indeed  a  kingdom  of  grace.  The  throne  is  a  throne  of  grace,  and 
the  sceptre  is  a  sceptre  of  grace.  He  revealeth  his  grace,  which  is 
his  glory  ;  and  thus  he  captivates  the  hearts  of  his  people.  He,  in  his 
great  kindness,  invites  to  him  all  that  are  athirst,  all  that  are  "  weary 
and  heavy-laden,"*  and  assures  them  that  they  shall  find  rest  and 
refreshment.  "  He  delivers  the  poor,  when  he  cries,  the  needy,  and 
him  that  hath  no  helper."  He  is  the  husband  of  the  widow,  and  the 
father  of  the  fatherless  in  his  holy  habitation.  "  When  the  poor  and 
needy  seek  water,  and  there  is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst," 
he  graciously  says,  "  I  the  Lord  will  hear  them,  I  the  God  of  Israel 
will  not  forsake  them.  I  will  open  rivers  in  high  places,  and  fountains 
in  the  midst  of  the  valleys  :  I  will  make  the  wilderness  a  pool  of  water, 
and  the  dry  land  springs  of  water"! 

In  earthly  kingdoms  the  subjects  are  governed  by  general  laws, 
which  must  necessarily  be  very  inadequate  to  the  variety  of  cases  and 
occurrences.  It  is  impossible  that  tlie  multiplicity  of  actions,  and  all 
their  individual  shades,  should  be  at  all  times  considered  and  distin- 
guished :  hence  has  arisen  the  proverb,  "  Summum  jus,  summa  injuria.'''' 
But  our  King  is  intimately  acquainted  with  all  hearts,  and,  being 
present  in  all  places,  he  can  apply  his  acts  to  individual  examples, 
and  appropriate  smiles  and  frowns  to  each,  as  if  there  were  no  other 
beings  that  participated  in  his  attention.  In  human  administrations, 
the  law  extends  only  to  outward  acts ;  it  relates  only  to  objects  of 
sense ;  insomuch  that  a  pure  spirit,  disengaged  from  the  body,  is  free 
from  its  sanction :  but  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  a  spiritual  one — it 
extends  to  the  heart :  it  relates  not  to  meats  and  drinks,  but  it  is  a 
kingdom  that  is  "  within  you,"!  and  relates  to  "  righteousness,  peace, 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost."^  It  is  founded  in  communion  with  Christ : 
by  his  Spirit  Christ  lives  in  his  members  ;  their  souls,  whether  in  the 
body  or  out  of  the  body,  are  always  in  his  hands  ;  he  is  Lord  both 
of  the  dead  and  the  living ;  he  adjusts  himself  to  all  cases,  through 
every  part  of  his  vast  empire.  In  earthly  kingdoms,  the  utmost  that 
can  be  done  is  to  lay  down  rules,  to  prescribe  laws,  and  to  sanction 
by  rewards  or  penalties ;  but  .Jesus  Christ  can  write  his  laws  on  the 
hearts  of  his  people.  "  They  are  engraven,  not  on  stone,  but  on 
fleshly  tables."||  He  knows  how  to  speak  to  the  heart ;  and  "  they 
know  his  voice,  and  follow  him ;  but  a  stranger  they  will  not  follow, 
for  they  know  not  the  voice  of  a  stranger."]? 

It  is  justly  considered  a  high  excellence  in  a  ruler,  that  he  is  disin- 
terested, that  he  pursues  no  interest  of  his  own,  apart  from  the  general 
good  of  the  empire  :  this  is  the  very  ilower  of  royalty  ;  and  those  who 
have  thus  distinguished  themselves  have  been  justly  considered  as  the 
greatest  benefactors  of  mankind ;  thoy  have  been  obeyed  and  loved 
while  they  lived,  and  foolishly  idolized  and  worshipped  when  they 
died.  But  never  was  any  one  so  disinterested  as  the  King  of  Zion, 
who  laid  down  his  life  for  his  people,  while  they  were  yet  enemies. 
He  wields  the  sceptre  of  universal  dominion :  he  chains  death  and 

*  Matt.  xi.  28.  t  Isaiah  xli   17,  18.  X  Luke  xvii.  21. 

^  Rom.  XIV.  17.  II  a  Cor.  iii.  3.  II  John  x.  4,  5. 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  357 

hell,  quells  the  devils,  and  overrules  all  things  for  the  good  of  his 
church.  Though  he  sits  at  the  right-hand  of  God,  he  could  not  enjoy 
even  that  station,  were  it  to  continue  a  solitary  one.  "  Father,"  says 
he,  "  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where 
I  am ;  that  they  may  behold  my  glory."*  "  I  will  come  again,  and 
receive  you  unto  myself;  that  where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also."t 
He  blends  the  deepest  condescension  with  the  highest  majesty.  He 
is  a  lion  against  their  enemies,  but  to  them  he  appears  as  "  a  lamb  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne."  The  whole  of  his  history  is  a  history  of 
the  sacrifice  of  selfish  feelings.  The  glory  of  the  Father,  and  the 
good  of  man ;  these  engaged  his  heart,  these  brought  him  from 
heaven,  these  regulated  all  his  actions  and  sufferings  ;  and  he  rested 
not  till  he  could  say,  "  Father,  I  have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth : 
I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  me  to  do."|  Well 
may  we  "  speak,"  then,  "  of  the  glory  of  his  kingdom,  and  talk  of  his 
power." 

TIL  The  glory  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  appears  in  the  character 
of  his  subjects. 

The  character  of  a  people  for  greatness  and  for  virtue  is  part  of 
the  glory  of  any  kingdom ;  and  it  must  not  be  omitted  here.  The 
Divine  Ruler  will  derive  much  of  his  glory  from  the  change  that  he 
has  wrought  in  his  people.  "  This  people  have  I  formed  for  myself," 
sa)'s  he  ;  "  they  shall  show  forth  my  praise."^  As  this  change  is 
derived  from  above,  there  is  no  foundation  for  boasting,  yet  the  change 
si  not  the  less  real :  it  is  the  communication  of  the  Saviour's  image 
and  spirit :  and,  when  he  comes,  he  will  be  glorified  in  his  saints. 

I  cannot  enter  largely  into  a  description  of  the  subjects  of  this 
kingdom,  nor  is  it  necessary ;  but  a  few  observations  may  be  made. 

1.  These  subjects  are  enlightened;  they  have  just  conceptions  of 
tilings  ;  they  are  delivered  out  of  darkness,  which  envelopes  the  rest 
of  mankind,  as  the  children  of  Israel  had  light  in  the  land  of  Goshen 
when  the  habitations  of  the  Egyptians  were  in  darkness.  They  see 
things  as  they  are :  they  see  them,  in  some  measure,  as  they  are  seen 
by  Jesus,  the  "true  Light;"  they  form  right  estimates  of  objects,  as 
they  are  holy  or  sinful,  temporal  or  eternal ;  they  reckon  that  all 
worldly  treasures  and  delights  are  nothing  and  vanity  when  compared 
with  the  spiritual  and  everlasting  riches  and  pleasures  of  Christ  and 
his  kingdom. 

2.  The  subjects  of  this  kingdom  are  renewed :  the  Spirit  of  God 
changes  their  heart ;  they  are  made  imperfectly,  yet  truly  holy  ;  they 
have  a  principle  in  them  that  aims  at  perfection ;  their  characters  are 
n)ixed,  but  the  best  part  struggles  against  the  worst,  and  will  finally 
triumph.  It  is  in  this  kingdom  where  patience,  purity,  humility,  faith, 
and  love  to  God  and  men,  reside.  Whatever  of  true  holiness  is  to  be 
found  on  earth,  here  you  must  find  it :  "  We  know  that  we  are  of  God, 
and  the  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness. "||  But  these  are  renewed 
after  the  image  of  God ;  there  is  something  divine  impressed  upon 

*  John  xvii.  24.  +  John  xiv.  3.  t  John  xvii.  4. 

^  Isaiah  xliii.  21.  ||  1  Jobn  v.  ig. 


358  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

their  characters  ;  they  have  a  principle  in  them  that  comes  from  God 
and  leadb  to  God,  and  inspires  their  souls  with  earnest  longings  after 
him.  "  My  soul  Iblloweth  hard  after  God."*  "  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  in  com- 
parison of  thee."t  They  have  been  reclaimed  from  their  revolt,  and 
are  truly  loyal;  they  are  "called,  chosen,  and  faithful."  From  their 
wanderings  they  have  "  returned  to  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  their 
souls ;"  tiiey  lament  that  they  ever  were  his  enemies,  that  they  ever 
lived  at  a  distance  from  him ;  and  it  is  now  their  sincere  desire 
to  obey  him  while  they  live,  and  to  breathe  out  their  souls  in  his 
service. 

3.  Tlie  subjects  of  this  kingdom  have  in  them  a  preparation  for 
perfect  blessedness.  They  that  do  not  belong  to  Christ  are  disquali- 
fied for  heaven,  but  those  that  belong  to  him  have  the  elementary 
preparation  for  heaven;  they  have  that  which  meetens  them  "to  be 
partakers  of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light."  .  They  are  not 
entirely  cured,  it  is  true,  of  all  the  infection  of  sin  ;  the  venom  of  the 
"  old  serpent"  is  not  expelled  :  but  they  are  under  a  restorative  pro- 
cess ;  they  are  under  the  method  of  cure  ;  they  are  taking  the  medicine 
■which  is  of  sovereign  efficacy.  All  the  love  and  joy  that  glow 
with  celestial  fervour  before  the  throne  of  the  Heavenly  majesty 
is  only  the  consummation  of  seeds  like  those  which  are  sown  in 
the  hearts  of  believers:  "Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,  and 
gladness  for  the  upright  in  heart."|  They  are  sown  in  their 
hearts :  and  when  that  which  is  sown,  or  is  to  be  sown,  shall  be 
matured,  Jesus  Christ  will  present  unto  himself  "  a  glorious  church, 
not  having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing."§  And  what  a  spec- 
tacle will  this  be !  how  will  the  saints  themselves  be  astonished  at 
their  attainments  !  It  will  require  an  eternity  to  know  ourselves,  much 
more  to  know  the  Fountain  whence  all  these  beauties  and  glories  have 
been  derived.  Then,  indeed,  shall  we  "  speak  of  the  glory  of  his 
kingdom,  and  talk  of  his  power." 

IV.  The  glory  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  manifest  in  the  privileges 
that  are  attached  to  it. 

The  privileges  are  transecndcntly  great,  far  beyond  our  comprehen- 
sion. "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  what  God  hath  laid  up  for  them  that  love 
him  ;"||  but  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  searcheth  all  things,  in  some 
measure  manifests  them  to  us  by  his  word,  and  gives  us  a  taste  for 
them  in  our  experience. 

1.  Pea(;e  is  a  peculiar  blessing,  of  this  kingdom.  The  Ruler  is 
called  "  The  Prince  of  Peace."  Of  the  increase  of  his  kingdom  and 
peace  there  shall  be  no  end.  This  begins  in  reconciliation  with  God  ; 
the  healing  of  the  great  breach  which  sin  has  made.  With  respect  to 
them,  the  great  controversy  which  has  opposed  earth  to  heaven  is  at 
an  end:  they  are  reconciled,  free  from  condemnation,  delivered  from 
that  cloud  of  wrath  which  overhangs  the  rest  of  tlie  world ;  they  are 

*  Psnlm  Ixiii.  8.  t  Psalm  Ixxiii.  25.  }  Tsalm  .\cvii.  11. 

§  EpUes.  V.  27.  ||  1  Coi .  ii.  9. 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  359 

justified  by  faith,  and  therefore  have  "  peace  with  God  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The  consequence  of  peace  with  God  is  peace 
with  one  another ;  a  spirit  which  unites  men  in  a  wonderful  manner  to 
tlieir  fellow-creatures,  and  especially  to  their  fellow-christians.  This, 
when  it  is  diffused,  will  produce  peace  among  all  families  and  nations  ; 
it  will  be  an  antidote  against  all  the  animosities  and  discords  that  have 
prevailed  in  the  world. 

2.  The  dignity  of  the  subjects  of  this  kingdom  is  another  privilege. 
Is  it  considered  an  honour  for  a  king  to  have  a  large  train  of  nobles, 
who  can  trace  their  origin  through  a  long  line  of  progenitors  1  Are 
these  the  strength  of  the  tlirone  1  What  a  noble  race  are  the  subjects 
of  Christ's  kingdom !  To  "  as  many  as  receive  him,  he  gives  the 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God."*  This  is  the  highest  of  all  titles. 
Their  earthly  descent  is  not  noticed ;  "  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
they  shall  be  :"  but  this  is  their  nobility — "  Now  are  ye  the  sons  of 
God,  and  if  sons,  then  heirs;  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with 
Christ."  "  What  manner  of  love  is  this  which  the  Father  hath  be- 
stowed upon  us  ?"  All  these  sons  shall  be  advanced  to  the  kingdom ; 
they  shall  every  one  of  them  be  kings  and  priests  unto  God,  and  unite 
together  in  ascribing  glory,  and  honour,  and  praise,  and  power,  unto 
Him  who  redeemed  them,  and  conferred  this  honour  upon  them." 
They  ^shall  have  dominion  over  their  sins,  over  the  world,  and  over 
Satan,  who  shall  be  "  bruised  under  their  feet  shortly."  They  will  be 
invested  with  a  holy  office,  reigning  under  Christ,  and  for  his  service 
and  glory,  for  ever. 

3.  Immortality  shall  be  the  blessing  of  this  kingdom :  the  subjects 
shall  partake  of  endless  life  ;  a  life  that  shall  never  be  extinguished.  In 
the  Scriptures  we  read,  "  Whosoever  believeth  in  Jesus  shall  never 
die.  The  fathers  ate  manna  in  the  wilderness,  and  are,  dead  ;  but  he 
that  eateth  of  the  bread  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  die."t  He 
that  keepeth  the  sayings  of  Christ  shall  not  taste  of  death.  Death,  in 
the  Scripture  sense,  includes  that  separation  from  God  which  begins 
in  spiritual  and  is  completed  in  eternal  death  ;|  this  is  that  of  which 
believers  cannot  taste.  They  receive  in  them  the  embryo  of  eternal 
life  :  the  spiritual  life  rises  up  into  life  eternal,  and  will  be  displayed 
in  its  perfection  in  the  world  of  glory.  As,  subjects  of  Christ's  king- 
dom, his  servants  are  immortal ;  whatever  affects  their  frail  bodies, 
nothing  can  separate  them  from  the  love  of  Christ. 

What  an  important  blessing  is  the  possession  of  eternal  life  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead !  These  terms  include  everlasting  felicity  in 
the  presence  of  God :  the  privilege  is  ineffable  and  invaluable,  sur- 
passing our  apprehension,  or  any  comparison  that  can  be  made.  To 
enjoy  the  smallest  portion  of  this  blessing  is  to  be  superior  to  all  the 
greatness  of  the  present  state :  the  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
higher  than  the  most  exalted  of  the  rulers  and  the  philosophers  of  the 
world.     We  shall  shortly  see  this  to  be  the  true  representation  of  the 

*  John  i.  12.  t  John  vi.  58. 

}  Seep.  'J'J-U>2,  of  "Exegetical  Es.says  on  several  Words  relating'  to  Future  runisliment,"  by 
Professor  Stuart,  of  Andover.  United  State.s  ;  9.  work  in  which  philolosjical  acumen  and  rtsearch 
are  finely  blended  with  sound  discriminaiiou  and  a  genuine  love  of  truth.— Ec. 


360  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

subject.  Wicked  men  shall  see  it  to  be  so,  when,  between  them  and 
the  righteous,  "  there  is  a  great  gulf  lixed  ;"  good  men  will  find  it  to  be 
so,  and  their  spirits  will  even  fail  within  them,  when  they  behold  the 
order  of  the  court  of  heaven,  and  the  majesty  of  the  kingdom. 

These  blessings  which  I  have  mentioned  will  not  only  be  put  within 
the  reach,  but  made  to  be  the  possession,  of  the  subjects  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven. 

The  benefits  that  result  from  well-regulated  governments  on  earth 
are  generally  such  as  restrain  from  the  pursuits  of  evil,  prevent  inter- 
ference with  others,  remove  obstructions,  leave  open  various  avenues 
to  the  prosperity  of  individuals.  Each  subject  must  pursue  his  own 
course,  and  make  his  own  fortune  ;  but  in  this  kingdom,  positive  bless- 
ings are  conveyed.  "  The  Lord  will  be  to  his  people  a  place  of 
broad  rivers  and  streams."*  "  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings, 
and  hatli  begotten  us  again  to  a  lively  hope,  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
Christ  from  the  dead."t  He  not  only  subdues  our  enemies,  but  de- 
livers us  from  our  trials  ;  while  he  himself  becomes  a  source  of  satis- 
fying good.  "  My  peace  I  give  unto  you :  not  as  the  world  giveth, 
give  I  unto  you."|     "  I  give  unto  them  eternal  life."'^ 

I  might  mention  some  other  properties  of  this  kingdom,  which, 
though  they  do  not  enter  into  the  essence  of  it,  are  very  important. 

It  is  a  growing  kingdom.  At  first  it  was  small,  but  it  had  in  it  an 
expansive  power  ;  it  was  "  a  little  stone  hewn  out  of  a  mountain  without 
hands,"  but  it  shall  become  "  a  great  mountain,  and  fill  all  the  earth." 
It  has  grown,  and  is  growing;  "and  of  its  increase  there  shall  be  no 
end."||  "  He  must  increase  ;  he  shall  reign  until  all  things  are  put 
under  him."  He  goes  on  "  conquering  and  to  conquer :"  the  last 
enemy  shall  be  overcome,  and  be  bound  to  the  wheels  of  his  chariot. 
The  Scriptures  are  much  occupied  in  these  things.  Prophets  thought 
as  much  of  missions,  their  labours,  and  their  successes  as  we  do  :  they 
employed  the  most  glowing  language,  and  the  sublimest  strains,  in 
their  predictions  of  the  glory  of  Messiah's  kingdom  in  the  latter  day  ; 
they  snatch  from  earth  and  heaven,  from  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  stars, 
the  fairest  and  the  grandest  images,  to  represent  the  state  of  the 
church  at  that  desired  period ;  they  levy  a  tribute  upon  universal 
nature,  and  make  all  things  contribute  to  illustrate,  as  they  will  in 
reality  contribute  to  advance,  this  kingdom. 

This  is  a  subject,  then,  my  brethren,  which  can  never  be  exhausted  ; 
you  may  speak  of  it  through  eternity !  Open  all  your  hearts,  utter 
the  most  astonishing  eloquence,  call  forth  the  host  of  angels  to  assist 
you  in  celestial  songs  ;  and  still  fresh  views  will  burst  upon  your 
minds :  you  will  appear  for  ever  only  to  be  at  the  beginning  of  the 
theme,  only  to  be  standing  upon  the  borders  of  Immanuel's  land  :  you 
will  be  called  upon  perpetually  to  rejoice,  and  again  to  rejoice,  while 
you  "  speak  of  the  glory  of  his  kingdom,  and  talk  of  his  power." 

*  I^^aiah  xxxiii.  21.  1 1  Pet.  i.  3.  t  Jokll  xiv.  27. 

^  Juhii  X.  2t5.  II  Isdidb  ix.  7. 


THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM.  361 

In  connexion  with  those  qualities  which  I  have  mentioned,  the  per- 
petuity of  this  kingdom  must  endear  it,  above  all  things,  to  a  good 
man :  this  indeed  crowns  the  whole.  It  is  a  perpetual  kingdom ;  it 
shall  never  be  removed ;  it  shall  never  be  taken  away  to  be  given  to 
any  other  people ;  but  the  saints  of  the  Most  High  shall  continually 
possess  it.  It  shall  rise  upon  the  ruins  of  all  other  dominions,  and 
shall  itself  never  be  subverted. 

Let  us  then  rejoice  at  the  tokens  which  we  see  of  God's  purpose  to 
extend  this  kingdom.  Our  eyes  have  seen  great  and  wonderful  things  : 
God  is  doing  much  for  his  church ;  we  have  advantages  beyond  any 
of  our  predecessors.  Such  a  period  as  this  has  not  been  witnessed 
since  the  days  of  the  apostles :  all  events  seem  to  be  pointing  to  the 
final  issue  ;  and  this  should  reconcile  us  to  live  in  a  time  of  desolation. 
In  the  midst  of  the  darkness  that  surrounds  us,  a  bright  point  is  visible 
that  forebodes  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day.  God  is  overturning,  over- 
turning; but  it  is  to  prepare  the  way  for  his  coming  whose  right  it  is, 
and  who  shall  reign  for  ever. 

The  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  changing  and  falling  to  ruin.  Let 
us  not  be  dismayed  at  this  ;  they  are  made  of  changeable  materials. 
We  ought  not  to  wonder  if  the  mortal  dies,  and  if  the  changeable 
changes  ;  but  ever  rejoice  that  we  receive  "  a  kingdom  which  cannot 
be  moved."*  Let  us  have  grace,  while  we  see  these  things,  "  to  serve 
the  Lord  acceptably,  with  reverence  and  godly  fear. 

This  kingdom,  my  brethren,  will  advance  in  the  world  when  we 
depart  out  of  it.  It  is  a  kingdom,  at  present,  consisting  of  two  parts; 
there  is  an  upper  and  a  lower  province  :  in  the  lower  province  the 
subjects  are  required  to  struggle  and  fight ;  when  called  hence,  they 
shall  triumph.  Then  shall  we  know  what  is  meant  by  the  glory  of 
this  kingdom,  wlien  "  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  our  eyes," 
and  wlien  "  the  Lamb  that  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  us, 
and  lead  us  to  living  fountains  ol'  water  ;"t  when  we  shall  "  rejoice 
before  the  throne,  and  reign  for  ever  and  ever."J 

Let  us,  while  we  live  here,  sincerely  pray  and  labour  for  the  ad- 
vancement and  glorious  increase  of  this  kingdom,  whicli  embraces  all 
the  elements  of  purity  and  happiness.  "  This  is  all  our  salvation," 
and  sliould  be  all  our  desire.  Beyond  this,  there  is  nothing  to  be  hoped 
for;  without  this,  there  is  nothing  on  earth  that  can  render  the  pros- 
pect of  death  tolerable,  or  life  worth  possessing. 

Finally,  then,  let  us  look  to  ourselves,  that,  while  we  hear  these 
things,  we  may  possess  a  personal  interest  in  this  kingdom.  "  The 
law  and  the  prophets  were  until  .John :"  but  now  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven ;  and  let  every  man  be  pressing  into  it.  Press  into  it" — strive 
to  enter.  Strive  as  in  an  agony :  "  for  many  shall  strive"  imperfectly, 
"  and  shall  not  be  able."  Let  it  be  your  determination,  by  the  aid  of 
promised  grace,  to  surmount  every  difficulty.  Press  into  the  kingdom  ; 
for  behind  thee  is  the  wrath  and  curse  of  Almighty  God  ;  but  within  is 
a  place  of  safety,  of  peace,  and  joy.     Put  your  feet  within  the  limits 

*  Heb.  xii.  28.  j  Rev.  vii.  17.  J  Rev.  vu.  9,  15. 


362  THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST'S  KINGDOM. 

of  this  kingdom,  and  it  will  be  as  one  of  the  cities  of  refuge  to  the 
men  that  were  pursued  by  the  avengers  of  blood  ;  and  the  farther  you 
penetrate,  the  more  will  your  peace  and  joy  be  promoted. 

To  be  within  this  kingdom — how  important !  Why  are  there,  then, 
any  of  you  that  are  not  earnestly  seeking  it  ?  If  you  have  not  felt  a 
concern  about  it  before,  what  are  your  present  thoughts  ?  Is  what  we 
have  advanced  all  imagination  ?  Is  it  only  a  fancied  empire  that  has 
been  represented  to  you  1  Is  there  such  a  kingdom  among  men  ? 
Have  you  heard  of  it,  have  you  seen  it?  And  is  the  Saviour,  the  Lord 
of  his  church,  wooing  your  souls  ?  Is  he  asking  leave  to  come  in  ? 
Does  he  say,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock :  if  any  man 
hear  my  voice,  and  open  the' door,  I  will  come  in?"*  Open  then  the 
door,  and  let  the  King  of  glory  come  in.  If  he  visits  you,  it  is  that 
he  may  reign  in  you ;  and  then  he  will  bless  you  with  his  salvation. 
There  is  no  one  wise  that  does  not  yield  to  the  Saviour :  all  are  fools 
who  are  not  either  rejoicing  in  the  evidence  that  they  are  in  this  king- 
dom, or  earnestly  desirous  of  it.  Be  not  content  that  this  kingdom 
should  appear  before  you  for  a  time,  and  then  vanish  away  for  ever ; 
say  not,  I  shall  see  it,  but  not  for  myself.  Oh,  thou  that  art  exalted 
to  heaven,  take  heed  lest  thou  be  tlirust  down  into  hell !  '  The  king- 
dom of  God  indeed  is  come  nigh  unto  you  :  it  is  nigh  you  in  the  gos- 
pel, it  is  nigh  you  in  the  efforts  of  the  present  time,  it  is  nigh  you  in 
the  endeavours  of  your  ministers,  it  is  nigh  you  in  every  sermon  you 
hear,  and  in  every  ordinance  you  attend.  It  is  nigh  you ;  and  you 
will  never  get  quit  of  this  thought :  it  will  be  as  a  sharp  arrow  that 
will  drink  up  your  spirits  to  all  eternhy.  When  it  is  far  from  you, 
when  between  you  and  the  blessed  subjects  of  it  "  there  is  a  great  gulf 
fixed,"t  you  will  for  ever  cry,  Once  it  was  nigh  me ;  every  Sabbath  it 
was  nigh  me ;  every  day  it  was  nigh  me ;  for  montlis  and  years 
together  it  was  nigh  me  ;  but  I  refused  it ;  I  thrust  it  from  me  ;  I  would 
have  none  of  the  Saviour's  counsel,  I  rejected  his  reproof:  and  now — 
it  is  past ;  it  is  gone  ;  the  things  of  the  kingdom  are  for  ever  hidden 
from  my  eyes  !  Beware,  lest  that  come  upon  you  which  is  written  ; 
"  Behold,  ye  despisers,  and  wonder,  and  perish."|  "  Kiss  the  Son, 
lest  he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish  from  the  way,  when  his  wrath  is 
kindled  but  a  little.    Blessed  are  all  they  that  put  their  trust  in  llim."i^ 

*  Rev.  iii.  20.  1  I.uke  xvi.  26. 

t  Acts  xiii.  40,  41.  $  Psalm  ii.  12. 


THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS.  363 


VI. 

GOD'S  WAYS,  THOUGH  OFTEN  INSCRUTABLE,  ARE 
RIGHTEOUS  AND  JUST.* 

Psalm  xcvii.  2. — Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  him :  righteous- 
ness and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne. 

[preached  at  LUTON,  MAY,  1815.] 

This  psalm  commences  with  a  statement  of  the  most  important 
doctrine  of  religion ;  a  doctrine  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  serious 
piety, — the  rule  and  dominion  of  God  over  his  creatures.  It  then 
call's  to  rejoicing  in  that  great  fact.  In  every  time  of  trouble  this 
is  the  Christian's  consolation;  and  it  is  his  chief  joy  in  his  best 
moments.  He  who  is  "  above  all"  continually  conducts  die  machine 
of  providence,  and  superintends  all  things  in  every  part  of  the  universe. 
This  is  the  unfailing  source  of  comfort  to  a  good  man, — "  The  Lord 
reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice." 

In  the  text  we  have  a  concession  made,  perfectly  consistent  with 
the  great  truth  before  propounded  :  "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round 
about  him  :  rigliteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his 
throne."  Two  propositions  are  contained  in  this  text,  to  which  I  now 
propose  calling  your  attention. 

I.  "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  God." 

II.  "  Righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  ^f  his  throne." 
I.  "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  God."     The  figurative 

language  in  the  poetical  parts  of  the  Old  Testament  is  frequently  taken 
from  the  historical  books,  and  refers  to  the  facts  therein  recorded : 
thus  the  appearances  of  God  to  the  saints  and  patriarchs  in  old  times 
are  the  origin  of  the  figure  in  our  te.xt.  If  you  look  at  the  history  of 
these  appearances,  you  will  find  they  were  all  accompanied  with 
clouds  and  darkness.  The  cloud  of  the  Lord  went  before  the  children 
of  Israel  when  they  departed  from  the  land  of  bondage.  This  cloud 
had  a  dark  and  a  bright  side,  and  was  a  symbol  of  the  Divine  presence  : 
thus  it  preceded  the  people  in  all  their  marches,  as  a  pillar  of  fire  by 
night,  and  of  a  cloud  by  day.f  When  Solomon  dedicated  the  temple, 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  filled  the  house,  and  the  priest  could  not  enter  into 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  because  the  glory  of  the  Lord  filled  the  house.  J 
When  God  descended  upon  Mount  Sinai,  "there  were  thunders  and  lio-ht- 
nings,  and  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount,  and  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  ex- 
ceeding loud.  And  Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke,  because  the 
Lord  descended  upon  it  in  fire  :  and  the  smoke  thereof  ascended  as  the 
smoke  of  a  furnace,  and  the  whole  mount  quaked  greatly.  And  the  Lord 
came  down  upon  IVIount  Sinai,  upon  the  top  of  the  mount."^     When  our 

*  Trir.fe.l  from  the  notes  ofllie  Hcv.  Samuel  IliUyard.  t  Exodus  viv.  19,  20. 

;  1  Kiiiss  vUi.  10,  11.  §  Exodus  .\ix.  1(3,  18,  20. 


364  THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS. 

Saviour  was  transfigured  before  three  of  his  disciples,  "  a  bright  cloud 
overshadowed  them,"  from  which  proceeded  the  voice  of  the  Father, 
saying,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear 
ye  him."*  And  Peter,  who  was  present  there,  afterward  referring  to 
this  fact,  says,  that  the  voice  proceeded  "  from  the  excellent  glory."t 
Thus,  in  all  the  symbols  of  the  Divine  presence,  there  was  a  mixture 
of  splendour  with  darkness  and  obscurity.  So  it  is  in  the  operations 
of  Providence :  in  a  moral  and  figurative  sense  we  may  say,  that 
clouds  and  darkness  surround  all  the  operations  of  Divine  power  and 
wisdom. 

Clouds  are  emblems  of  obscurity;  darkness,  of  distress.  The 
works  of  God's  providence  are  often  obscure  and  productive  of  distress 
to  mankind,  "though  righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of 
his  throne." 

In  the  present  state  of  the  afiairs  of  the  nations,  Ave  see  the  inter- 
ference of  Divine  Providence ;  and  yet  it  is  surrounded  with  clouds 
and  darkness.  Never  was  the  hand  of  God  more  conspicuous,  yet 
never  were  men  less  able  to  penetrate  and  comprehend  his  deep  and 
unfathomable  designs. 

As  this  is  the  Divine  method  of  government  with  respect  to  affairs 
of  a  larger  scale,  so  it  is  also  in  instances  of  a  smaller  and  inferior 
kind  :  it  is  thus,  in  the  removal  of  the  most  eminent,  holy,  and  useful 
characters,  that  while  we  acknowledge  the  hand  of  God,  we  say, 
"  clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  him."  Such  removals  we 
have  experienced :  "  The  fathers,  Avhere  are  they  ;  and  the  prophets, 
do  they  live  for  ever?"  No.  Such  as  seemed  most  necessary  in  the 
church,  the  pillars  of  the  temple,  are  removed,  and  many  are  trembling 
for  the  ark  of  God.  We  are  taught  to  "  be  still,  and  know  that  he  is 
God,"  since  "  what  we  know  not  now  we  shall  know  hereafter :"  and 
we  feel  it  necessary,  in  our  obscurity  and  distress,  to  refer  to  the  great 
principles  of  his  government,  "  Judgment  and  righteousness  are  the 
habitation  of  his  throne." 

The  course  of  events  has  not  been  such  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  the  known  character  of  God.  If  we  look  into  the  book  of  history 
we  shall  perceive  that  there  is  much  disorder  in  earthly  scenes,  nuich 
confusion  in  the  afiairs  of  men ;  and  was  this  to  be  expected  from  a 
God  of  order  and  wisdom  1  We  know  that  he  is  a  being  of  infinite 
mercy,  that  out  of  his  infinite  fulness  he  loves  to  communicate  hap- 
piness to  his  creatures ;  yet  Ave  see  them  oppressed  Aviih  calamity, 
surrounded  by  miseries ;  and  Ave  find  that  man  has,  in  all  ages  and  in 
all  stations,  been  "  born  to  trouble,  as  the  sparks  lly  upward." 

Again,  Ave  know  that  God,  in  liis  great  love  to  our  Avorld,  has  devised 
a  plan  to  raise  men  to  happiness  and  glory ;  his  regard  to  this  plan, 
and  the  objects  of  it,  appears  in  all  the  doctrines  of  revelation,  in  all 
the  miracles  by  wliich  they  are  supported,  and  in  all  the  prophecies 
and  glorious  things  that  are  spoken  concerning  the  church,  by  Avhich 
our   expectations   have   been   greatly  raised.     But  how  haA'e  those 

*  Matt.  xvii.  5.  t  2  Peter  i.  17. 


THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS.  365 

expectations  fallen  short  of  their  accomplishment ;  what  a  small  part  of 
the  world  is  enlightened  by  the  beams  of  the  "  Sun  of  Righteousness ;" 
how  narrow  are  the  limits  of  the  gospel ;  how  little  has  been  done  by 
Christianity,  compared  with  what  might  have  been  anticipated  from 
the  Divine  principles,  the  character  of  the  Author,  and  from  the  interest 
it  possesses  in  the  heart  of  God.  We  have,  as  yet,  wrought  almost 
no  deliverance  in  the  earth ;  paganism  yet  strikes  deep  its  roots  in 
various  lands ;  Mahoraetanism  has  plucked  up  the  "  good  seed  of  the 
kingdom"  in  countries  where  that  seed  brought  forth  fruit  abundantly : 
even  in  what  is  called  Christendom,  how  little  have  the  known  and 
blessed  elfects  of  tiie  gospel  been  manifested !  Jesus  Christ  came  to 
reconcile  all  who  receive  him  into  one  family ;  to  make,  of  many,  one 
body ;  to  compose  discords,  to  allay  violent  passions  and  animosities, 
to  make  wars  to  cease,  and  to  give  peace,  and  love,  and  harmony  to 
his  followers ;  but  those  called  Christians  have  been  inflamed  and 
armed  against  each  other.  From  the  beginning,  dangerous  errors 
have  produced  noxious  effects ;  the  "  mystery  of  iniquity"  began  to 
work ;  those  who  "  named  the  name  of  Christ"  have  inflicted  greater 
barbarities  upon  one  another,  under  the  influence  of  superstition  and 
bigotry,  than  their  fathers  had  suflered  from  their  pagan  persecutors. 
The  woman  that  "  sat  upon  the  scarlet-coloured  beast"  is  indeed  "  full 
of  names  of  blasphemy,  having  seven  heads  and  ten  horns ;"  she  is 
still  arrayed  in  "  purple  and  scarlet,  and  decked  with  gold  and  precious 
stones,  and  pearls,  having  a  golden  cup  in  her  hand  full  of  abomination 
and  fllthiness  and  Ibrnication ;  and  upon  her  forehead  was  a  name 
written,  Mystery,  Babylon  the  Great,  the  Mother  of  Harlots  and 
Abominations  of  the  Earth.  And  I  saw,"  says  the  apostle,  "  the  woman 
drunken  with  the  blood  of  the  saints,  and  with  the  blood  of  the  martyrs 
of  Jesus  ;  and  when  I  saw  her,  I  wondered  with  great  admiration."* 
And  what  could  be  less  expected,  what  more  surprising,  than  that 
Christianity  should  occasion  the  discovery  of  so  much  vileness  1  Nay, 
where  genuine  Christianity  is  taught,  how  small  has  been  its  progress  ! 
how  few  seem  to  be  converted  to  God,  compared  with  those  who  are 
enemies  in  heart  to  him,  and  to  the  kingdom  to  which  they  profess  to 
belong  !  Instead  of  Christians  being  of  one  heart  and  of  one  mind, 
they  are  armed  with  malice  and  envy  against  each  other,  on  account  of 
some  differences  of  sentiment  and  judgment ;  even  persons  of  real 
piety  give  way  to  prejudice  and  party  zeal,  which  prevent,  in  a  great 
measure,  tlie  operation  and  effect  of  pure  Christianity.  Thus  this 
blessed  system  of  rehgion  seems  to  have  been  the  occasion  of  more 
feuds  and  strifes  among  its  professors  than  any  other  interest  has  pro- 
duced since  the  world  began.  Look  at  the  state  of  the  world ;  see 
nations  professing  the  name  of  Christ  rushing  into  hostilities,  building 
all  their  hopes  of  future  peace  upon  the  success  of  their  plans  of 
bloodshed  and  (damage,  breathing  defiance  and  slaughter  in  their 
words,  and  displaying  them  in  their  enraged  countenances.  When  will 
the  end  of  these  things  be  ?     Were  it  not  for  the  sure  word  of  prophecy, 

*  Rev.  xvii.  4-6. 


366  THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS. 

we  might  be  ready  to  imagine  "  God  had  made  all  men  in  vain."  A 
great  part  of  the  world  is  no  belter  than  if  Christ  had  never  come  to 
save  mankind,  and  the  gospel  had  never  been  proclaimed.  Some  who 
hear  it  are  even  tlie  worse  for  what  they  hear ;  for  where  it  is  not  "  a 
savour  of  life  unto  life,"  it  is  "  a  savour  of  death  unto  death." 

I  might  expatiate  still  more  on  this  portion  of  the  text ;  but  sufficient 
has  been  said  to  prove  that  things  have  not  been  according  lo  expecta- 
tions founded  on  tlie  known  character  of  God,  but  that  "  clouds  and 
darkness  are  round  about  him." 

We  proceed  then  to  the  second  class  of  remarks,  suggested  by  the 
passage  before  us. 

II.  "Judgment  and  righteousness  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne." 

Righteousness  is  the  essential  perfection  of  the  Divine  Being.  It  is 
his  nature  ;  if  there  had  been  no  creatures  for  him  to  govern,  he  would 
have  had  an  unchangeable  and  invincible  love  of  Tcctitude. 

•Judgment  is  the  application  of  the  principle  of  righteousness  in  his 
government  of  his  creatures  and  their  actions ;  it  is  a  development  of 
his  rectitude  in  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  his  great  empire ;  it 
is  that  superintendence  over  all,  whereby  the  operations  of  all  things 
are  directed  to  some  vast  and  important  end.  Judgment  implies 
measure  and  equity,  in  opposition  to  what  is  done  without  rule  and  con- 
sideration. All  the  Divine  conduct  is  equitable,  regulated  by  rectitude, 
and  every  thing  is  directed  b)'  a  judgment  that  cannot  err. 

Thus  "  Righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne." 
The  throne  of  God  is  built,  and  stands  firm  upon  these  principles : 
they  are  the  place,  the  basis,  and  the  foundation  of  his  throne.  Though 
the  clouds  cannot  be  dispelled,  though  there  is  thick  darkness  round 
about,  through  which  our  eyes  cannot  penetrate  ;  yet  there  are  princi- 
ples discernible  through  the  light  of  revelation,  and  by  the  eye  of  faith, 
which  may  serve  to  subdue  despondency,  and  lead  us  to  acquiesce  in 
all  the  measures  of  the  righteous  Sovereign.  Though  much  obscurity 
must  be  attached  to  the  government  of  the  Infinite  Mind,  and  great  per- 
plexities may  be  felt  by  those  who  attempt  to  scan  his  measures  ;  yet 
some  considerations  may  be  suggested,  which  will  serve  to  quell  our 
anxieties  and  afford  us  repose  under  all  the  darkness,  beneath  hi.s  pro- 
tecting power,  his  all-directing  wisdom,  and  his  paternal  goodness. 

1.  Let  us  ever  remember  that  the  dispensations  of  God  towards 
man  are  regulated  by  the  consideration  of  his  being  a  fallen  and  dis- 
ordered creature.  If  we  do  not  admit,  or  if  we  forget  this,  we  are  in 
great  danger  of  falling  into  universal  skepticism,  and  shall  not  be  able 
to  conclude,  that  "  verily  there  is  a  God  that  judgeth  in  the  earth."  If 
man  is  now  in  the  state  in  which  he  was  originally  created,  all  is  ob- 
scurity and  gross  darkness  ;  but  if  we  understand  that  man  is  a  crea- 
ture who,  by  his  own  fault,  has  lost  that  iavour  with  God  which  he 
once  enjoyed,  and  yet  is  placed  under  a  dispensation  of  mercy ; 
frowned  upon,  but  not  given  up  lo  destruction ;  open  to  receive  the 
grace  of  God  under  the  gospel,  and  by  the  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
there  is  some  light  shooting  through  the  darkness,  by  Mhich  we  seethe 
"  righteousness  and  judgment"  which  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne." 


THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS.  367 

The  fallen  state  of  man  must  be  kept  in  view  to  account  for  the 
severities  in  the  Divine  dealings  with  him.  His  banishment  from  para- 
dise ;  the  curse  of  the  ground,  by  which  it  brings  forth  thorns  and 
briers,  and  the  sweat  of  the  brow  by  which  he  eats  his  bread  ;  the 
labour  and  sorrow  of  the  woman  in  child-bearing ;  and,  finally,  the 
sentence  of  death  which  is  passed  upon  man,  and  keeps  him  always 
in  bondage  ;  and  the  present  state  of  society,  the  fraud,  rapine,  cruelty, 
lust,  and  contention, — are  all  accounted  for  only  by  reverting  to  the  fall 
of  man  from  the  image  and  fiivour  ,of  God.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the 
severities  of  God,  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  there  are  mixtures  of  mercy 
which  we  have  reason  to  admire.  They  that  have  forfeited  all  right 
to  happiness  must  not  complain  if  any  drops  of  it  are  found  in  their 
cup.  They  that  have  lost  the  inheritance  must  not  complain  if  any  of 
its  fruits  are  atlbrded  to  them.  They  that  deserve  to  be  banished  into 
outer  darkness  must  not  complain  if  "  clouds  and  darkness  are  round 
about  Him"  whom  they  have  offended.  "Why  should  a  hving  man 
complain,  a  man  for  the  punishment  of  his  sins  ?"* 

They  that  deny  the  depravity  of  human  nature  are  involved  in  per- 
plexity, and  speak  on  the  subject  of  Divine  government  with  such 
doubt,  confusion,  and  perplexity,  as  increases  skepticism  in  themselves, 
while  it  too  often  produces  it  in  their  admirers. 

The  doctrine  of  the  fall  of  man  must  be  considered  as  a  fact :  to  a 
knowledge  of  this  the  Scripture  conducts  ;  it  relates  the  circumstances 
of  the  original  transgression  ;  expressly  asserts  that  "  God  made  man 
upright,  but  he  hath  sought  out  many  inventions  ;"t  and  that  "  by  one 
man  judgment  passed  upon  all  men  to  condenjnation."| 

2.  The  Divine  Being  was  not  bound,  in  justice,  either  to  prevent  the 
disordered  state  of  man,  or  to  correct  it  when  it  had  taken  place. 

All  moral  government  has  its  foundation  in  the  suitability  of  its 
laws  and  motives  to  regulate  and  influence  a  creature  endued  with  rea- 
son, understanding,  and  volition.  All  that  is  necessary  in  the  govern- 
ment of  such  a  creature  as  man  is  that  the  law  should  be  equitable, 
and  that  man  should  be  originally  possessed  of  faculties  which  ren- 
dered him  capable  of  obedience.  Were  we  to  go  further,  and  suppose 
that  the  Governor  was  obliged  to  see  his  law  fulfilled,  this  would  make 
him  accountable  to  his  own  law,  while  the  accountability  of  the  crea- 
ture would  be  destroyed.  If  the  creature,  besides  having  a  I'ighteous 
law  and  powers  capable  of  obedience,  must  also  be  kept  from  the  pos- 
sibility of  disobeying,  the  rule  would  return  back,  and  become  binding 
upon  him  that  gave  rather  than  upon  him  that  received  it.  Though  I 
feel  incompetent  to  go  far  into  this  subject,  yet,  from  what  we  know 
of  the  nature  of  God  and  of  man,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  it  can- 
not be  required  of  the  Divine  Governor  to  secure  the  obedience  of  his 
creatures,  any  further  than  the  law,  as  a  motive,  is  calculated  to 
have  an  effect  upon  rational  minds.  On  what  ground,  then,  can  it  be 
imagined  that  the  world  has  a  right  to  rccjuire  God  to  prevent  or  to 
remedy  moral  evil  ? 

3.  The  whole  of  those  evils  that  form  clouds  and  darkness  round 

*  Lam.  iii.  39.  t  Eccles  vii  59.  t  Rom.  v.  18. 


368  THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS. 

about  God  are  either  the  penal  or  natural  effects  of  moral  evil.  The 
terrors  of  conscience,  the  fears  of  death,  restlessness  and  dissatisfac- 
tion of  mind, — these  and  numerous  other  evils  are  partly  the  natural 
and  partly  the  penal  consequence  of  sin;  and  show  that  man  is  not  in 
the  state  in  which  he  was  originally  created,  but  is  reduced  by  his  dis- 
obedience to  a  state  in  which  all  things  are  "  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit." 

With  respect  to  evils  of  a  physical  nature,  most  of  them  are  evi- 
dent consequences  of  the  state  of  man  as  a  sinner.  What  is  war, 
strife,  contention,  but  the  effect  of  evil  passions ;  the  natural  fruits  of 
apostacy  ?  These  are  the  actions  and  workings  of  the  evil  mind, 
malice,  envy,  pride,  and  covetousness.  The  sentiment  of  love,  which 
unites  to  God,  being  broken,  what  effects  can  be  produced  but  dissen- 
sion and  disorder — domestic,  national,  and  universal  !  There  is, 
indeed,  less  disorder  and  confusion  than  might  be  expected  from  the 
universality  of  the  apostacy  ;  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  having 
checked  a  great  proportion  of  the  evil  that  would  have  proceeded  from 
the  corrupt  fountain  of  our  depravity.  We  can  never  sufficiently  ad- 
mire the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  for  such  institutions  as  preserve 
a  tolerable  degree  of  order  in  this  fallen  world.  Many  benefits  result 
from  those  checks  and  restraints  which  are  imposed  upon  men,  even 
when  the  heart  is  not  renewed. 

But  still  further.  God  has  established  another  kingdom  in  the  midst  of 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world.  He  has  created  a  new  race  among  the  race 
of  men  ;  the  men  who  are  the  "  salt  of  the  earth,"  and  the  "  light  of 
the  world."  They  prevent  that  universal  corruption  which  would  work 
its  ruin,  and  that  darkness  which  would  tend  to  destruction.  Yet  there 
is  much  darkness  and  corruption  remaining :  and  if  you  ask  how  long  it 
will  continue,  the  prophet  answers,  "  Until  the  Spirit  be  poured  on  us 
from  on  high  ;"*  that  is,  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  This  is 
the  only  thing  which  can  correct  the  evils  that  prevail  among  mankind. 
This  grace  is  not  conferred  by  the  Divine  Being  in  the  character  of  a 
governor,  but  as  the  fruit  of  his  favour :  it  is,  however,  the  only  cure  ; 
and  hence,  the  most  intense  desires  should  possess  our  minds  for  the 
promotion  of  the  gospel ;  not  only  that  God  may  be  glorified  in  the 
highest,  but  that  on  earth  there  may  be  peace  and  good-will  among 
men. 

4.  Those  that  receive  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ  are  still  in  such  a 
situation  as  renders  a  great  part  of  their  trials  and  miseries  necessary. 
Many  of  the  evils  of  a  depraved  nature  still  remain,  and  need  to  be 
subdued  and  removed.  Pride  must  be  abased ;  "  covetousness,  which 
is  idolatry,"  abhorred ;  impurities  cleansed ;  and  malevolent  passions 
conquered.  This  is  a  state  of  probation  ;  and  it  is  repugnant  to  reason 
to  talk  of  a  state  of  probation  in  which  nothing  is  met  with  that  is  dark 
and  painful.  Besides,  tlic  virtues  of  the  Christian  must  be  perfected 
in  the  same  Avay  in  whicli  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  was  perfected  : 
he  must  be  conformed  to  Christ,  and  have  fellowship  with  him  in  his 

*  Isaiah  xxiii.l5. 


THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  V/AYS.  369 

sufferings.  Jesus  Christ  is  set  forth  as  a  type  of  all  the  happiness 
that  accrues  from  suffering,  from  struggling,  and  from  conquering ; 
and  we  must  resemble  him  in  this  respect.  To  this  purpose  our 
present  state  is  adapted ;  every  thing  is  so  contrived  as  to  afford 
opportunities  of  conquest.  The  pleasures  of  the  world,  the  crosses 
of  life,  tlie  remains  of  concupiscence,  the  venom  of  the  "old  serpent," 
and  the  insults,  if  not  persecutions,  of  the  wicked,  are  enemies  by 
■which  we  are  beset ;  and  we  recover  from  their  assaults,  and  overcome 
by  the  exercise  of  prayer,  vigilance,  and  persevering  struggles. 
"  There  is  no  discharge  in  this  warfare," — we  must  conquer  or  die. 
God  will  confer  no  distinction  (I  will  not  say,  but  where  it  is  deserved) 
but  only  where  it  may  be  given  as  a  recompense  for  service.  The 
design  of  Christ  is  to  raise  his  people  to  glory,  to  communicate  to 
them  the  fulness  of  God  ;  but  as  he  obtained  these  blessings  by  his 
death,  as  he  purchased  them  by  his  blood,  so  in  the  same  path  he  leads  on 
his  people  to  his  glory.  Thus  he  makes  all  our  afflictions  and  enemies 
preparatives  to  our  victory  and  triumph.  Tlie  Divine  Being  will  dis- 
play his  infinite  wisdom  in  leading  his  people  through  the  wilderness  : 
and  they  shall  walk  "  in  white,''  with  "  palms  in  their  hands,"  and 
crowns  on  their  heads,  who  "  come  up  out  of  great  tribulation."* 

5.  The  moral  evils  of  man,  and  the  depravity  of  human  nature,  are 
often,  in  a  great  measure,  corrected  and  subdued  by  the  natural  evils 
of  life,  and  thus  are  made  the  means  of  conducting  to  repentance, 
reformation,  and  happiness.  The  Spirit  is  not  generally  given  to  lead 
the  soul  to  God  and  the  enjoyment  of  a  life  of  faith,  without  being 
preceded  by  affliction  and  troubles.  He  leads  into  the  wilderness,  and 
then  speaks  kindly  unto  man ;  he  destroys  our  idols,  hedges  up  our 
way,  surrounds  us  with  difficulties,  and  pleads  with  us.  Thus  he  deals 
with  individuals,  and  thus  also  with  nations  at  large.  "  When  his 
judgments  are  abroad  in  the  earth,  the  inhabitants  thereof  learn  right- 
eousness." The  overflowing  of  a  corrupt  opulence,  the  abundance 
of  prosperity,  feeds  as  in  a  hotbed,  all  the  bad  passions  of  the  heart. 
The  sword,  pestilence,  povert}-,  pain,  and  innumerable  other  evils 
excite  us  to  deep  and  serious  reflection,  and  thus  prepare  us,  by  the 
influence  of  the  gospel,  and  the  operation  of  grace,  to  return  to  God. 
A  sense  of  a  superior  hand  is  felt ;  the  vanity  of  the  world  is  dis- 
covered ;  the  soul  looks  out  for  something  on  which  to  rest,  and  is 
prepared  to  hear  the  voice  that  says,  "  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye 
saved."  I  doubt  not  but  the  cloud  now  gathering,  and  the  judgments 
~  now  about  to  descend,  will  be  the  means  of  casting  down  high  thoughts, 
and  "  humbling  the  lofty  looks  of  man,  that  the  Lord  alone  may  be 
exalted,"  and  that  the  world  maybe  filled  with  his  glory.  One  temple 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  of  more  esteem  in  his  sight  than  all  the  splen- 
dour of  palaces,  than  all  the  riches  of  the  world.  Jesus  Christ  is 
overthrowing  all  the  grandeur  of  man,  that  he  may  gather  out  of 
ruinous  heaps,  and  from  a  perishing  world,  the  materials  of  an  imperish- 
able temple.     He  is  taking  out  of  every  nation  a  people  whom  he  will 

*  Rev.  vii.  9,  14. 

Vol.  III.— a  a 


370  THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS. 

form  for  his  praise.  In  his  providence  he  is  subverting,  scattering, 
destroying,  in  order  that  he  may  find  stones  to  polish  for  a  temple  into 
which  he  will  enter,  into  which  his  Father  will  enter,  and  where  they 
will  abide.  This  is  the  one  great  end  the  King  of  Righteousness  has 
in  view.  The  preparatory  scenes  of  the  world  are  as  a  "  valley  full 
of  bones,  very  many  and  very  dry  ;"*  but  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  shall 
raise  out  of  them  a  people  upon  whom  he  will  breathe,  and  they  shall 
live,  and  become  a  glorious  army,  animated  by  the  heavenly  grace. 
How  is  it  possible,  if  we  see  things  only  with  carnal  eyes,  that  we  should 
see  them  as  God  sees  them,  who  directs  all  things  with  a  view  to  an 
eternal  state  of  being?  Our  "light  affliction"  may  work  for  us  a 
"  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory ;  while  we  look  not 
at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen  :  for 
the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal ;  but  the  things  that  are  not 
seen  are  eternal."!  It  is  only  by  looking  at  "  things  unseen  and  eter- 
nal" that  we  can  derive  true  benefit  from  the  miseries  of  life.  Under 
the  hand  of  God  every  thing  is  propelled,  every  thing  temporal  is 
rushing  forward  to  give  way  to,  or  to  be  united  with,  that  M'hich  is 
eternal.  This  is  the  development  of  the  whole  plan,  the  explication 
of  all  the  complicated  movements  of  providence.  Look  at  the  things 
which  are  eternal :  there  is  the  state  to  v.'hich  we  are  tending,  where 
we  shall  know  in  perfection  what  we  now  know  only  in  part,  and  shall 
be  satisfied  that  all  has  been  conducted  agreeably  to  the  known  char- 
acter of  God. 

6.  Yet,  let  it  be  observed,  even  here  the  light  of  prophecy  dispels 
many  of  those  clouds  which  would  otherwise  obscure,  for  the  present, 
the  government  and  the  throne  of  the  Deity.  We  are  assured  that  in 
the  latter  day  the  gospel  will  be  more  widely  disseminated,  that  its 
influence  will  be  more  extensive  and  efficacious,  that  the  superstitious 
prejudices  and  vices  by  which  it  has  been  so  long  opposed  will  give 
way ;  that  the  desert  and  the  wilderness  shall  become  a  fruitful  field, 
and  "  shall  blossom  as  the  rose  ;";[  that  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
shall  bring  their  riches  and  glory  into  the  church,  the  whole  earth  shall 
be  full  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  there  shall  be  peace  unto  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  At  what  period  this  glory  of  the  latter  day  will 
commence  is  not  for  us  to  determine ;  it  is  generally  agreed  the  time 
draws  near ;  how  long  it  will  last  is,  again,  not  easy  to  tell.  The 
thousand  years  are  perhaps  to  be  calculated  upon  the  same  scale  as 
other  prophecies,  wherein  a  day  stands  for  a  year,  which  would  make 
them  more  than  three  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  years.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  at  that  period  the  Spirit  will  be  poured  down  from  on  high  ;  the 
potsherds  of  the  earth  that  have  been  striving  will  be  dashed  to  pieces  ; 
the  great  Proprietor  will  come  to  fasiiion  them  anew :  then  "  the 
fruitful  field  will  be  as  a  forest,"  and  the  forest  "  as  the  garden  of 
God  ;"^  none  shall  destroy  in  all  God's  holy  mountain ;  the  sacred 
influence  of  piety  will  bring  us  back  to  a  paradisaical  state  ;  the  love, 
the  harmony,  the  plenty  which  will  abound  will  fill  every  heart  with 

*  Eiek.  xxxvii.  1-14.  t  2  Cor.  iv.  17,  18. 

i  Isaiab  xxxv.  1.  ^  Isaiah  xxxii.  15;  U.  3. 


THE  INSCRUTABILITY  OF  GOD'S  WAYS.  37I 

gladness;  the  temple  of  God  shall  be  among  men,. the  marriage  of 
the  Lamb  will  come  ;  and  the  universal  song  will  be,  "  Hallelujah  :  for 
the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth  !"* 

If  this  period  shall  continue  long,  the  miseries  that  once  reigned 
will  be  forgotten,  and  all  the  disorder  that  was  introduced  by  the  fall 
will  be  as  nothing,  when  compared  with  the  joy  of  the  restoration ; 
the  creation  of  a  "  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  wherein  righteous- 
ness shall  reign." 

"  Behold,  the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh  ;  but  who  can  abide 
the  day  of  his  coming  ?"  He  will  come  with  his  "  fan  in  his  hand." 
"  He  will  sit  like  a  refiner  of  silver."  The  chafl"  will  be  separated 
from  the  wheat ;  the  visitations  of  the  Almighty  will  find  out  his  ene- 
mies ;  the  phials  of  his  indignation  will  be  poured  out  upon  the  oppo- 
sers  of  the  gospel ;  wrath  will  come  upon  them  in  this  world,  prepara- 
tory to  that  of  the  eternal  state.  Let  us  "  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come." 
Let  us  consider  the  salvation  of  the  soul  to  be  the  one  thing  needful. 
The  body  is  only  the  tenement  in  which  the  soul  is  lodged,  the  case 
in  which  it  is  enclosed  ;  the  soul  is  all-important ;  "  the  redemption  of 
it  is  precious  ;"  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul ;  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his 
soul ?"t 

The  gospel  is  the  only  refuge  to  which  we  can  flee.  It  presents 
Christ  crucified  among  you,  shedding  his  blood  as  an  atonement  for 
your  sin,  willing  to  "  save  to  the  uttermost  all  who  come  unto  God  by 
him."  O  my  friends,  accept  his  grace  ;  break  ofi'  from  every  sin  ;  ask 
yourselves  in  what  you  have  offended ;  set  your  sins  in  order  before 
you  ;  remembering  that  if  you  do  not,  Christ  will  do  it  at  the  great  day. 
Judge  yourselves  now,  that  you  may  not  hereafter  be  judged,  and  sent 
to  condemnation.  Turn  with  humble  penitence  to  the  cross  of  Christ, 
and  approach  God  by  him  ;  bend  your  knee  before  the  throne  of 
grace,  plead  the  merits  of  the  Redeemer's  blood,  and  be  "  reconciled 
by  his  death." 

May  God  grant  you  these  blessings  for  the  sake  of  his  Son.    Amen. 

*  Rev.  xuc.  6.  t  Mark  viii.  36,  37. 

A  a2 


372  DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN. 

VII. 

ON  THE  DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN.* 

Numbers  xxL  4. — And  the  soul  of  the  people  icas  much  discouraged 
because  of  the  way. 

[PEEACHED    AT    BEDFORD,    MAY,    1815.] 

It  is  generally  understood  and  believed  that  the  Old  Testament  is 
in  great  part  typical.  The  hisiory  of  the  deliverance  of  Israel  is  a  type 
of  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ ;  the  paschal  lamb  a  type  of  the  great 
Passover.  The  journey  of  the  people  through  ihe  wilderness  repre- 
sented our  pilgrimage  through  this  world  ;  and  the  land  of  Canaan  was 
a  shadow  of  the  heavenly  rest.  Viewed  in  this  light,  many  parts  afford 
direction  and  consolation  peculiarly  suited  to  individual  experience. 

I  shall  take  leave  to  accommodate  this  passage  as  an  expression  of 
Avhat  frequently  befalls  the  people  of  God  in  this  world ;  their  "  souls 
are  greatly  discouraged,  because  of  the  way." 

The  present  life  is  a  way  ;  it  is  not  the  end  of  our  being :  it  is  not 
our  rest,  it  is  not  our  abode  ;  but  the  place  of  our  pilgrimage,  a  pas- 
sage to  eternity. 

There  are  two  ways, — the  way  to  heaven,  marked  out  by  the  example 
of  Christ,  and  the  way  to  perdition,  marked  out  by  an  evil  world.  But 
there  are  many  discouragements  that  the  Christian  meets  with,  though 
he  is  in  the  way  to  heaven.  These  we  shall  point  out  in  the  first 
place,  and  then  direct  you  to  some  considerations  to  remove  these  dis- 
couragements. 

I.  I  shall  point  out  the  discouragements  in  the  way  ;  and  in  doing 
this  I  shall  keep  my  eye  on  the  pilgrimage  of  the  people  who  were 
originally  referred  to  in  the  text. 

I.  The  way  is  circuitous,  and  therefore  discouraging.  This  is  sug- 
gested in  the  beginning  of  this  verse:  "And  they  journeyed  from 
Mount  Hor,  by  the  way  of  the  Red  Sea,  to  compass  the  land  of 
Edom  ;"  tliey  took  a  way  which  was  round  about,  which  added  to 
the  tediousness  of  their  journey.  Their  nearest  route  would  have 
made  it  comparatively  easy ;  but  instead  of  taking  this,  they  went 
up  and  down  in  the  wilderness.  When  we  consider  what  God  had 
done  for  this  people  in  Egypt,  it  might  have  been  expected  that  all 
the  way  would  have  been  prosperous ;  that  joy  would  have  been 
heard  in  their  tents,  and  triumph  attended  their  march  ;  and  it  would 
have  been  seen  that  they  were  the  people  of  God  by  the  blessings 
which  they  enjoyed  ;  but  instead  of  this  they  met  with  delays,  hinder- 
ances,  and  troubles,  till  they  murmured  against  Moses  and  Aaron, 
saying,  "  Why  were  we  brought  out  hither  ?     Would  to  God  we  had 

*  Primed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  HiUyard. 


DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN.  373 

died  by  the  hand  of  the  Lord  in  Egypt."*  Thus,  souls  that  are 
brought  to  Jesus,  and  dehvered  from  the  slavery  of  sin  and  the  curse 
of  the  law,  in  their  first  ardour  overlook  trials,  and  think  of  nothing 
but  enjoyments;  they  do  not  anticipate  the  fightings  and  fears  that  are 
the  portion  of  God's  Israel.  After  a  lime,  through  want  of  watchful- 
ness and  care,  the  love  of  their  espousals  begins  to  decline,  the  world 
regains  a  degree  of  influence,  the  Spirit  is  grieved,  and  they  fear  God 
has  become  their  enemy :  they  seem  to  themselves  to  go  backward, 
and  indeed  are  in  danger  of  doing  so,  if  they  neglect  to  watch  and 
pray ;  and  much  time  is  spent  in  mourning,  retracing,  and  recovering 
the  ground  that  has  been  lost.  This  is  too  common  a  course  :  there  is 
provision  made  for  something  better ;  there  are  promises  and  comforts 
which  should  encourage  us  to  advance  from  strength  to  strength  ;  but 
through  our  neglects  we  feel  that  we  go  backward  instead  of  forward, 
and  are  therefore  discouraged. 

2.  The  way  is  through  a  wilderness,  and  is  therefore  discouraging. 
Moses  reminded  Israel  of  this  in  Deuteronomy:  "You  remember  how 
you  went  through  the  wilderness,  a  waste  land,  not  sown  or  tilled, 
where  there  was  no  trace  of  human  footsteps,  and  where  no  man 
dwelled."  A  wilderness  is  distinguished  by  the  absence  of  necessary 
sustenance  :  there  was  no  corn,  nor  vine,  nor  olive  ;  nothing  to  sustain 
life.  Thus  this  world  is  a  state  of  great  privations  ;  men  are  often 
literally  straitened  with  poverty,  penury,  and  sorrow,  and  know  not  how 
to  conduct  themselves  in  their  difficulties  :  the  supplies  which  they 
once  had  may  be  exhausted ;  and  tliough  they  have  seen  the  hand  of 
God  in  affording  them  what  was  necessary  on  former  occasions,  they 
are  ready  to  say.  Though  the  rock  has  supplied  us,  and  the  manna  has 
descended,  yet  "  can  God  spread  a  table  for  us  in  the  wilderness  ?" 
With  respect  to  the  blessings  of  this  life  they  live  by  faith,  and  fre- 
quently have  no  provision  or  prospect  for  futurity. 

But  in  a  spiritual  sense  this  world  is  also  a  wilderness.  It  has  no 
natural  tendency  to  nourish  the  spiritual  life  ;  nothing  is  derived  from 
it  of  that  kind  :  thougli  spiritual  blessings  are  enjoyed  in  it,  the  Chris- 
tian knows  they  are  not  the  produce  of  the  soil ;  the  "  bread"  which 
he  eats  "  comelh  down  from  heaven  ;"  the  perpetual  exhibition  and 
communication  of  that  one  bread  is  all  his  support.  Jesus  Christ  says, 
"  I  am  the  Bread  of  life.  Your  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  are  dead  ;  but  he  that  eateth  of  this  bread  shall  never  die. 
My  flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  my  blood  is  drink  indeed."!  The  ordi- 
nances of  the  gospel  do  not  support  and  comfort  us  any  further  than 
there  is  a  heavenly  communication  and  influence  attending  them.  This 
is  not  peculiar  to  the  poor :  the  rich,  who  abound  in  worldly  things, 
feel  that  this  is  a  wilderness  to  their  souls ;  they  feel  that  there  is 
something  to  which  earthly  treasures  are  not  suited ;  wants  which 
they  cannot  supply.  The  same  bread  that  feeds  the  poor  must  feed 
them,  or  they  will  be  lean  from  day  to  day  :  on  this  they  depend  as 
much  as  the  meanest  around  them.  David  felt  this  when  he  said,  '*  I 
stretch  forth  my  hands  unto  thee  :  my  soul  thirsteth  after  thee,  as  a 

*  Exod.  xvi.  3.  t  John  vi.  48-50,  55. 


374  MSCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN. 

thirsty  land."*  "  As  the  liart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  pant- 
eth  my  soul  after  thee,  0  God.  When  shall  I  come  and  appear  before 
God  ?"t  "Deliver  me  from  the  men  of  this  world,  who  have  their 
portion  in  this  life."  "  Then  shall  I  be  satisfied  when  I  awake  in  thy 
likeness."!  There  was  nothing  on  earth  to  satisfy  him ;  he  felt  the 
present  world  to  be  a  wilderness,  because  it  was  a  state  of  absence 
from  the  Divine  presence.  The  Christian  is  a  child  of  promise  and  of 
hope,  and  his  eye  is  directed  to  the  "  glory  that  shall  be  revealed." 

Again  :  there  is  much  intricacy  in  the  Christian's  pilgrimage.  There 
were  no  paths  in  the  wilderness  ;  the  Israelites  could  not  have  explored 
their  way  but  by  the  direction  of  the  pillar  of  fire  and  of  the  cloud  :  so 
the  Christian  knows  not  how  to  explore  his  path.  There  are  doctrinal 
difficulties  by  which  we  are  perplexed,  and  errors  to  which  we  are 
continually  exposed,  and  which  we  know  not  how  to  escape  but  by 
attention  to  "  the  light  that  shineth  in  a  dark  place."  There  are  voices 
that  are  heard  in  the  wilderness,  crying,  "  Lo  here,"  and  "  Lo  there  ;" 
but  we  nmst  not  go  after  them :  we  must  "  search  the  Scriptures,"^ 
and  ask  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit,  or  we  shall  never  have  the  comfort 
that  arises  from  right  views  of  truth,  nor  hear  the  "  voice  behind  us 
saying.  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it."  I  need  not  mention  the  various 
errors  of  the  present  day  ;  but  simply  specify  the  two  chief,  which  are, 
such  a  view  of  the  doctrines  of  grace  as  destroys  the  necessity  of  holi- 
ness, and  such  a  view  of  the  Saviour  as  destroys  the  notion  of  grace. 
There  are  also  many  difficulties  in  practical  religion  ;  and  thus  we  are 
again  in  danger  of  mistake.  What  shall  we  do  to  serve  and  please 
God  1  The  general  rules  of  Scripture  are  sufficient,  if  studied  with  an 
humble  mind,  for  general  direction ;  but  they  do  not  furnish  us  with 
immediate  and  particular  directions  in  all  cases.:  diligent  inquiry  is 
necessary,  attending  to  the  voice  of  conscience,  giving  up  sensual 
desires  and  inclinations,  and  rejecting  temptations  presented  in  various 
forms.  There  is  only  one  grand  remedy,  if  wc  would  walk  aright : 
"  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  to  all  men 
liberally,  and  upbraideth  not ;  and  it  shall  be  given  him."|| 

3.  'I'he  way  lies  through  a  hostile  country,  and  is  therefore  dis- 
couraging. We  pass  through  an  enemy's  land.  The  Israelites  went 
up  in  military  array,  marching  in  file  ;  and  they  had  not  proceeded 
far  before  the  kings  of  Edom  and  Moab,  and  the  Ammonite,  opposed 
them.  They  were  obliged  to  unite  the  courage  of  the  military  with 
the  assiduity  of  the  pilgrim's  life ;  they  had  to  fight  as  well  as  travel. 
And  so  must  we :  on  our  pilgrimage  we  must  gird  on  "  the  whole 
armour  of  God,  taking  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  shield  of  faith  ;"F 
we  must  conquer  as  well  as  advance ;  we  must  fight  our  way,  or  die. 
There  are  three  great  enemies — the  fiesh,  the  world,  and  the  devil : 
these  are  allied,  have  perfect  understanding  with  each  other  against 
us,  and  combine  their  efforts  for  our  destruction.  The  Christian  pil- 
grim becomes  a  marked  character  in  the  world  ;  he  dwells  alone  :  the 
men  around  him  take  the  alarm  ;  they  endeavour  to  imbitter  his  choice 

*  Psalm  cxliii.  6.  t  Psalm  xlii.  1,  2.  t  Psalm  xvii.  15. 

$  John  V.  39.  y  James  i.  5.  If  Ephee.  vi.  13-17. 


DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN.  375 

and  retard  his  progress.     Satan  is  also  alarmed,  and  he  is  never  found 
to  give  up  a  subject  without  opposition. 

A  man  going  on  in  a  carnal  course  will  scarcely  believe  in  Satan's 
temptations ;  he  regards  it  as  mere  enthusiasm  to  think  or  speak  of 
them ;  he  has  not  felt  them,  and  will  not  think  they  can  be  felt :  but 
the  Christian  soon  learns  that  he  has  to  fight  against  "  principalities 
and  powers,  and  spiritual  wickedness."  He  finds  his  enemy  assault 
him  in  various  ways,  and  knows  that  he  "must  be  resisted  that  ho 
may  fly  from  us  ;"*  for  "  he  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion,  seeking 
whom  he  may  devour."!  The  flesh  is  also  an  enemy.  The  Chris- 
tian experiences  the  workings  of  carnality,  a  hankering  after  that 
which  is  evil,  and  to  which  he  may  have  been  addicted  ;  as  the  Israel- 
ites after  "  the  onions  and  garlic  of  Egypt."  There  is  a  tendency 
towards  earth,  as  well  as  towards  heaven  ;  a  principle  that  depresses 
and  bends  him  downwards,  as  well  as  one  that  elevates  and  prompts 
him  to  soar  above  :  he  is  forced  to  complain  of  "  cleaving  to  the  dust," 
and  cannot  always  say,  "  My  soul  folio weth  hard  after  God."  "  There 
is  a  law  in  the  members  warring  against  the  law  of  his  mind."|  He 
complains  of  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief"  There  is  in  him  an  army 
with  two  banners  ;  "  the  flesh  lusting  against  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit 
against  the  flesh  :"^  this  renders  it  necessary  that  our  life  should  be  a 
continual  struggle.  These  conflicts  belong  to  every  condition.  Those 
that  have  most  of  the  world  are  often  most  exposed,  and  are  seldom 
less  exempt  than  others  from  assaults ;  and  no  wonder  that  hereby 
Christians  are  often  discouraged,  especially  when  they  feel  they  do 
not  always  succeed.  Even  when  they  are  not  vanquished,  they  some- 
times lose  ground ;  and  when  they  have  overcome,  they  are  afraid  of 
fresh  conflicts,  in  which  their  strength  may  fail,  and  their  enemies 
gain  the  advantage. 

4.  The  false  steps  that  are  taken  in  the  pilgrimage,  and  the  conse- 
quent displeasure  of  God,  are  discouraging:  there  are  so  many  errors 
and  iniquities  for  which  the  Lord  chastens  his  people,  though  he  par- 
dons sin  as  to  its  eternal  consequences.  How  often  did  the  children 
of  Israel  oflend  God  and  awaken  his  anger?  and  where  is  the  son 
whom  the  Lord  does  not  see  fit  to  chasten  ?  These  chastenings  of 
the  Lord  often  drink  up  the  spirit ;  they  overwhelm  the  soul.  "  All 
thy  waves  and  billows  are  gone  over  me."||  They  think  of  God,  and 
are  afraid.  They  cry,  "  Oh,  be  not  a  terror  unto  me,"lP  lest  I  sufier 
thy  frown  and  be  distracted.  The  bitter  herbs  are  unpalatable ;  the 
fears  of  hell  seize  hold  of  them  as  terribly  as  when  they  were  first 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  sin  and  danger ;  they  feel  their  frailty  and 
tendency  to  depart  from  God ;  and  they  apprehend  future  trials,  and 
know  not  how  long  the  painful  dispensation  will  continue.  "  Is  his 
mercy  clean  gone  for  ever ;  doth  his  promise  fail  for  evermore  ?"** 

5.  Total  defection  of  men  from  the  path  is  a  great  discouragement 
to  those  who  still  continue  in  the  way.     I  do  not  think  that  all  who 

*  Jaraes  iv.  7.  1 1  Pet.  v.  8.  i  Rom.  vii.  23. 

$  Gal.  V.  17.  II  Psalm  xlii.  7.  IT  Jer.  xvii.  17. 

•*  Psalm  Ixxyii.  8. 


376  DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN. 

■died  in  the  wilderness  were  cut  off  as  rebels ;  indeed  it  could  not  be, 
for  Moses  and  Aaron  were  of  the  number :  yet  they  were  set  forth  as 
types  to  warn  us  of  the  danger  of  not  entering  into  rest.  Here  was  a 
shadow  of  the  greater  loss  of  them  that  "  turn  back  to  perdition." 
How  many  can  we  recollect  of  those  who  were  once  active  and 
zealous  in  the  cause  of  God,  that  have  gone  away  and  walked  no 
more  with  Christ,  of  wlioni  we  say,  "  It  would  have  been  better  for 
them  not  to  have  known  the  way  of  righteousness,  than,  after  they 
had  known  it,"*  "  to  turn  again  to  the  beggarly  elements  of  this 
world  !"t 

Providence  sets  a  mark  upon  such  persons  :  their  idols  are  snatched 
from  them,  and  they  become  as  pillars  of  salt  to  remind  us  of  the 
danger  of  looking  behind  us.  What  deep  searchings  of  heart  are 
hereby  occasioned  !  "  1  also  shall  fall  by  the  hand  of"  the  enemy ;  I 
have  in  me  a  similar  nature  with  his,  and  may  be  exposed  to  similar 
temptations.  "  Lord,  hold  me  up,"  or  I  shall  not  be  safe.  Nothing 
weakens  the  confidence  of  the  Christian  army  more  than  the  failure 
of  those  who  appeared  brave  in  the  day  of  battle,  and  conspicuous  in 
the  ranks.  When  ministers  and  eminent  professors  fall  away,  our 
hands  hang  down  ;  we  suspect  others  ;  we  are  jealous  of  ourselves. 
"Search  me,  O  God,  and  try  me,  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way 
in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting."^  "  Every  one  must  give 
an  account  of  himself  to  God,"§  and  "  let  every  one  have  rejoicing  in 
himself,  and  not  in  another."|| 

6.  The  leiigtk  of  the  way  is  discouraging.  The  time  occupied  by 
the  Israelites  from  their  entering  to  their  leaving  the  wilderness  was 
forty  years.  Thus  long  were  Caleb  and  Joshua  in  travelling  through 
it.  This  was  a  tedious  journey ;  such  a  one  as  was  never  performed 
before:  a  type  of  the  journeys  of  the  Church  militant.  The  whole 
of  human  life,  with  all  its  toils  and  cares,  is  comprehended  in  this 
journey;  there  is  no  rest,  no  cessation  of  the  pilgrim  state,  till  life  is 
finished.  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,"  or  all  thy  former  toil  is  lost 
and  will  be  of  no  avail.  Now  though  human  life  is  short  in  itself, 
yet  to  our  limited  conception  it  appears  long ;  especially  when  passed 
in  suffering  and  pain,  "  when  the  clouds  return  after  the  rain,"  and 
there  is  none  to  tell  us  "  how  long."  In  protracted  afflictions  is  seen 
the  patience  of  the  saints.  It  is  more  easy  to  endure  the  greatest 
shocks  of  trouble,  than  to  endure  those  pains  which  are  more  moderate 
for  a  long  season.  Patience  is  worn  away  by  continued  afflictions, 
rather  than  overwhelmed  by  the  rolling  wave.  Those  saints,  who 
endure  in  private,  though  unknown,  and  perhaps  unnoticed  by  their 
neighbours,  are  the  bravest  heroes  of  the  Christian  camp.  We  must, 
my  brethren,  hold  out  unto  the  end.  We  must  touch  the  goal, 
or  we  run  in  vain ;  our  last  effort  must  be  made  in  this  journey,  or 
we  shall  never  reach  the  Canaan  that  lieth  beyond  the  waters  of  the 
grave. 

Thus  I  have  given  you  a  serious  representation  of  difficulties  and 

*  2  Pet.  ii.  21.  t  Gal.  W.  9.  %  Psalm  cxxxix.  23,  24. 

<i  Rom.  xjv.  12.  II  Gal.  vi.  4. 


DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN.  377 

trials ;  and  it  may  appear  discouraging  to  many :  the  people  of  God 
are  much  discouraged  at  times,  when  they  know  not  how  long  they 
shall  have  to  walk  and  be  weary.  But  there  is  another  view  of  our 
pilgrimage :  it  is  not  wise  to  hide  our  eyes  from  trials  ;  let  us,  there- 
fore, consider  them  well ;  yet  let  us,  at  the  same  time,  inquire  whether 
among  these  scenes  there  are  not  interspersed  motives  to  support, 
encourage,  and  animate  our  minds. 

II.  I  shall  now,  therefore,  endeavour  to  direct  you  to  some  consider- 
ations to  remove  your  discouragements. 

1.  Remember,  the  way  you  are  in,  believer,  is  "a  right  way,"  not- 
withstanding all  that  has  been  said.  Infinite  Wisdom  has  ordained  it : 
and  if  you  reach  the  end,  you  will  be  well  repaid  for  alHyour  toil,  and 
will  admire  the  whole  of  the  pilgrimage  ;  no  sorrow  will  appear  to 
have  been  too  heavy ;  no  path  too  gloomy.  There  was  no  bitter 
ingredient  in  your  cup  that  could  have  been  spared ;  no  affliction  but 
what  operated  to  promote  the  "  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory."  You  will  look  back  and  acknowledge  that  Infinite  Wisdom 
directed  the  darkest  path,  and  caused  it  to  terminate  in  joy  and  glory 
unutterable.  This  is  the  way  in  which  many  have  been  conducted 
that  are  now  in  glory  ;  they  are  gone  up  out  of  "  great  tribulation." 
There  is  a  "  great  cloud  of  witnesses,"  who,  "  through  fahh  and 
patience,  are  now  inheriting  the  promises  :"  let  us  also,  with  patience, 
"  run  the  race  that  is  set  before  us,  looking  unto  Jesus ;  who,  for  the 
joy  that  was  set  before  him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame."* 
Take  the  prophets  and  ancient  saints  as  examples  of  suffering :  think 
how  they  were  tried.  Remember  the  prison  of  Joseph,  the  reproach 
of  Moses,  the  dungeon  of  Jeremiah,  and  the  death  of  Isaiah.  "  Re- 
member the  patience  of  Job"  under  all  his  afflictions.  God  has  heated 
the  furnace  for  some  of  the  most  eminent  saints  seven  times  more 
than  common,  because  they  were  endued  with  a  divine  power  of  suf- 
fering with  patience,  and  were  favoured  with  the  presence  of  the  Son 
of  God.  The  people  of  God  have  been  chosen  in  the  furnace  of 
affliction ;  the  bush  has  been  on  fire,  but  not  consumed,  for  God  was 
in  the  midst  to  preserve  it ;  and  he  not  only  preserves  his  saints,  but 
gradually  conforms  them  to  his  Son  Jesus,  who  himself  suffered  :  for 
this  purpose  he  came  into  the  world  and  united  himself  to  human 
nature ;  wherefore  arm  yourselves  with  the  same  mind.  Our  suffer- 
ings are  necessary,  to  wean  us  from  the  world  and  to  deliver  us  from 
sin  :  "  he  that  hath  suffered  is  free  from  sin."t  We  must  either  suffer 
by  self-denial,  or  be  chastised  of  the  Lord.  "  If  any  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me  :"j:  let 
him  behold  both  the  cross  and  the  crown,  and  never  turn  aside  from 
that  path  which  leads  to  the  crown,  whatever  cross  he  may  have  to 
bear.  A  man  of  this  world,  who  is  governed  by  sensual  inclinations, 
and  seeks  after  vain  pleasures,  is  "  dead  while  he  lives."^  This  was 
not  the  course  of  our  Master  ;  and,  be  it  remembered,  it  is  he  who 
says,  "  Let  him  follow  me." 

*  Heb.  xii.  1,  2.  1 1  Pet-  i^-  1- 

t  Matt.  svi.  2iL  $  1  Tim.  v.  6. 


378  DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN. 

2.  Another  encouragement  is,  that  God  is  with  his  people  in  the 
way.  He  was  with  Israel,  to  guide  and  defend  them.  They  had 
visible  tokens  of  his  presence,  and  saw  that  he  stretched  out  his  arm 
for  their  protection,  and  the  overthrow  of  their  adversaries.  Thus 
also,  when  Jesus  sent  forth  his  disciples,  he  said,  "Lo,  I  am  with  you 
alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."*  If  he  lays  upon  our  shoul- 
ders the  heavy  cross,  he  supplies  unction  for  the  bruises  it  occasions. 
If  he  leads  into  the  wilderness,  he  "  speaks  comfortably  ;"  he  spreads 
a  table  there,  "  and  his  banner  over  us  is  love."  "  Greater  is  he  that 
is  with  you  than  all  that  are  against  you."  God  is  in  the  world  as  the 
great  upholder,  governor,  and  benefactor ;  but  he  is  in  the  church  by 
his  special  grace,  as  a  vital  principle,  an  ever-living  friend  to  sustain, 
animate,  and  influence.  With  him  we  have  communion,  and  from 
him  communications  of  mercy.  We  are  one  with  him ;  all  our  need 
shall  be  supplied  :  "  as  our  days,  so  shall  our  strength  be."t  We  may 
not  know  how  to  meet  an  expected  trial ;  but  grace  shall  come,  and 
be  all-sufticient  for  us.  Only  keep  your  face  Zion-ward,  and  "  though 
the  young  men  faint,  and  are  weary"  in  waiting  upon  the  Lord,  you 
shall  "  renew  your  strength,  mount  upon  wings  as  eagles,  run  and  not 
be  weary,  walk  and  not  faint."J  "  His  strength  shall  be  made  perfect 
in  your  weakness."  "When  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong  ;"§  most 
gladly,  therefore,  will  I  "  glory  in  infirmity,  that  the  power  of  Christ 
may  rest  upon  me."  "  In  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  conquer- 
ors, through  Him  who  loved  us."||  Only  look  not  behind  you,  think 
not  of  turning  back,  and  he  "  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you." 

3.  To  overcome  the  discouragements  of  the  way,  remember  there 
is  no  other  way  that  leads  to  heaven.  You  cannot  reconcile  the  ser- 
vice of  sin  and  the  world  with  the  hope  of  heaven  and  the  enjoyment 
of  everlasting  life  in  that  holy  state,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  holy 
God.  Will  you,  then,  forego  the  hope  of  Canaan  ;  as  you  must  when 
you  yield  to  sin,  when  you  give  yourselves  to  the  world  ?  There  is 
no  other  way  to  heaven  than  the  way  to  which  the  Scriptures  of  truth 
direct  you.  You  must  "  crucify  the  flesh  ;"  you  must  "  purify  your- 
selves" by  faith  through  the  Spirit ;  you  must  be  conformed  to  the 
Saviour  ;  you  must  take  up  the  trials  of  life  with  patience,  or  look  for 
the  punishment  of  death.  The  choice  of  Moses  was  truly  wise ;  it 
was  the  only  choice  wisdom  could  make.  Happy  are  they  who  choose 
like  him  ;  Canaan  shall  be  for  ever  theirs.  The  Land  of  Promise  was 
but  a  type,  a  shadow  of  their  inheritance  :  it  was  a  perishable  inherit- 
ance ;  it  was  but  a  mere  span,  a  moment  of  happiness  and  glory,  com- 
pared with  that  which  shall  be  revealed,  of  which,  at  present,  we  can 
only  say  we  know  but  in  part:  for  "it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be;  but  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall 
see  him  as  he  is."T  A  few  moments  there  will  banish  all  earthly 
trials  from  your  mind ;  or  you  shall  remember  them  only  to  enhance 
your  bliss.     The  enemy,  like  the  Egyptians  in  the  Red  Sea,  shall  be 

*  Matt,  xxviii.  20.  t  Deut.  xxxiii.  25. 

J  Isaiah  xl.  31.  0  Cor:  xii.  10. 

tl  Rom.  vlii.  37.  IT  1  John  iii.  8. 


DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  PIOUS  MEN.  379 

seen  no  more.  The  trials  of  the  sauits  shall  be  left  far  behind,  and 
sin  shall  never  vex  them  again.  How  will  this  happiness  repay  all 
their  toil !  how  sweet  will  be  the  remembrance  of  the  bhterest  herbs  ! 
how  unspeakable  and  inconceivable  the  joy,  when  they  shall  be  with 
angels,  and  justified  spirits,  and  Christ,  and  God,  in  the  kingdom  of 
glory  !  We  are  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  this  sublime  subject;  yet 
we  know  that  future  happiness  is  greater  than  eye  hath  seen  or  ear 
hath  heard.  How  should  it  transport  us  to  think  that  we  may  be 
counted  worthy  of  this  high  calling  ;  that  God  hath  revealed  to  us  this 
glory  !  It  is  only  by  Jesus  Christ  and  his  gospel  that  "  life  and  im- 
mortality are  brought  to  light."  It  is  by  God's  becoming  man  that 
man  may  become  like  God,  a  partaker  of  the  divine  nature.  Let  us 
not,  my  brethren,  deem  ourselves  unworthy  ;  let  us  not  sit  down  con- 
tent with  inferior  things,  like  Esau,  who  for  "  one  mess  of  pottage 
sold  his  birthright."  It  is  infinitely  better  to  suffer  in  this  life  than  to 
lie  down  in  death.  Go  forward,  then.  Christian  ;  go  forward  :  "  forget- 
ting the  things  that  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  to  those  that  are 
before." 

I  pray  God  that  these  plain  truths  may  be  blessed  to  your  souls ; 
that  you  may  be  stirred  up  to  diligent  perseverance  in  the  ways  of 
God ;  that  you  may  be  a  comfort  to  the  minister  whom  God  hath 
placed  over  you  ;  and  that  he  may  present  you  with  joy  at  the  coming 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  if  any  of  you  have  not  yet  entered  on  this  way, 
to  such  we  would  affectionately  say,  "  Come  thou  with  us,  and  we  will 
do  thee  good ;  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel." 
Come,  ye  careless  ones,  "ye  simple  ones,  turn  in  hither."  You  think 
not  of  death,  but  of  the  gayeties  of  life ;  you  walk  after  the  desire  of 
your  hearts  and  the  delight  of  your  eyes  :  but  there  is  no  happiness  in 
your  path  ;  if  you  proceed,  you  must  perish  ;  for  it  leadeth  to  destruc- 
tion. All  your  pleasure  is  but  for  a  moment ;  there  is  more  true 
pleasure  in  the  roughest  path  of  the  Christian  than  in  the  smoothest 
road  you  find  :  you  will  never  have  peace,  consolation,  or  rest,  till  you 
come  to  the  Saviour.  Come,  and  he  will  do  you  good  :  you  shall  have 
all  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  life  that  will  be  for  your  real  comfort ; 
all  your  trials  shall  be  ordered  by  wisdom  and  love ;  you  shall  have 
the  best  support  in  the  day  of  adversity,  and,  in  the  life  to  come,  ever- 
lasting glory.  "  All  things  shall  be  yours  ;"  Christ  your  Saviour,  and 
God  the  Creator  of  the  universe,  your  God  and  Father. 

We  do  not  know  what  you  may  meet  with  by  the  way,  nor  what  you 
shall  enjoy  in  the  end  ;  but  what  we  enjoy  you  shall  enjoy.  God  will 
remember  you  "  with  the  favour  that  he  beareth  to  his  own  people, 
and  visit  you  with  his  salvation."  O,  that  every  one  might  come ! 
None  would  be  turned  away  without  the  blessing:  there  is  room 
enough ;  "  there  is  bread  enough,  and  to  spare."  We  invite,  nay 
entreat  you,  to  leave  those  muddy  streams,  which  must  be  given  back 
in  tears  of  repentance.  Come  and  taste  of  the  "  water  of  life,  clear  as 
crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb."*    Come 

*  Rev.  xxii.  1. 


380  THE  VANITY  OF  MAN 

and  partake  of  these  blessings.  While  you  delay,  your  danger  in- 
creases ;  if  you  utterly  refuse,  you  perish !  "  The  Spirit  and  the 
Bride  say,  Come ;  and  let  him  that  heareth  say.  Come ;  and  let  him 
that  is  athirst,  come ;  and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of 
life  freely."* 


VIII. 

THE  VANITY  OF  MAN  APART  FROM  HIS  IMMORTALITY.f 

Psalm  Ixxxix.  47. — Remember  how  short  my  time  is :  wherefore  hast 
thou  made  all  men  in  vain  ? 

[preached    at    BROADMEAD,    BRISTOL,    AUGUST,    1815.] 

The  psalm  in  which  these  words  occur  is  supposed  to  have  been 
written  on  occasion  of  the  calamities  which  befell  the  kingdom  of 
Israel  in  the  reign  of  Rehoboam  ;  and  the  Psalmist  appears  to  have 
been  lamenting  those  distressing  events  by  which  the  glory  of  David's 
family  seemed  to  be  extinguished.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  feelings, 
he  is  carried  out  from  the  particular  occasion  which  excited  them,  to 
a  general  contemplation  of  the  vanity  of  human  existence.  From 
these  words  I  propose  to  show,  that — considered  merely  in  his  present 
state,  apart  from  any  reference  to  eternity,  and  the  prospect  disclosed 
by  revelation, — man  (it  may  be  truly  said)  is  "made  in  vain." 

1.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  us,  in  such  a  survey  of  our  being,  as 
circumscribed  within  the  term  of  mortality,  is  the  shortness  of  its  dura- 
tion. "  Remember  how  short  my  time  is.''''  This  circumstance,  which 
cannot  have  escaped,  or  failed  to  affect,  any  reflecting  person,  is  fre- 
quently adverted  to  by  the  sacred  writers.  "  My  days,"  says  Job, 
"  are  swifter  than  a  post  :  they  are  passed  away  as  a  shadow."  "  Be- 
hold," says  the  Psalmist,  "  thou  hast  made  my  days  as  a  handbreadth, 
and  mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  thee :  as  for  man,  his  days  are  as 
grass  :  in  the  morning  it  is  green  ;  in  the  evening  it  is  cut  down  and 
withered."  The  transient  nature  of  his  existence  stamps  an  inexpres- 
sible meanness  on  man,  if  we  confine  our  view  to  the  present  life  ;  and 
forces  us  to  confess  that,  laying  aside  the  hope  of  immortality, "  every 
man,  at  his  best  estate,  is  altogether  vanity." 

2.  The  same  reflection  must  have  occurred  to  most  persons  of  a 
thoughtful  character,  when  they  have  contemplated  the  general  state 
of  that  world  in  which  we  are  placed:  the  mischief  and  misery  that 
pervade  it :  the  disorder  and  desolation  which  the  unruly  passions  of 
men  perpetually  introduce  :  the  wantonness  with  which  they  rush  to 
deeds  of  violence  and  injustice;  the  almost  incessant  national  conten- 

*  Rev.  xxii.  17. 

t  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfleld,  A.  M.,  of  Clifton. 


APART  FROM  HIS  IMMORTALITY.  381 

tions,  in  which  the  destruction  of  one  part  of  the  human  race  seems  to 
become  the  business  and  sport  of  the  other.  Whether  the  balance  of 
good  or  of  evil  preponderate  on  the  whole,  is  a  question  we  may  here 
leave  undecided.  In  some  more  favoured  conditions  of  society,  it 
is  probable  there  may  be  a  predominance  of  good ;  in  others,  less 
favoured,  of  evil  :  but  that  such  a  question  should  exist  at  all  is  itself 
a  sufficient  proof  how  much  evil  exists  in  this  world.  Viewed,  there- 
fore, merely  as  they  are  here,  and  excluding  the  supposition  of  a  future 
state,  all  men  will  appear  to  be  "  made  in  vain." 

3.  Again,  when  we  recollect  how  many  thousands  of  our  species  are 
born  the  subjects  of  some  inherent,  incurable  disease,  or  imperfection  of 
body,  such  as  may  be  said  to  render  their  life  a  protracted  malady ; 
when  we  call  to  mind  how  many  are  constitutionally  the  victims  of 
dejected  spirits  and  a  morbid  melancholy,  such  as  cast  a  gloom  over 
every  surrounding  object,  and  dim  their  perceptions  to  the  fairest 
scenes  of  life  and  nature  (a  case  which  is  exemplified  in  the  great 
and  amiable  Cowper) ;  we  are  compelled  to  acknowledge  of  the  multi- 
tude so  circumstanced,  that, — if  we  consider  them  merely  as  existing  in 
that  hypothetical  state  which  terminates  with  death, — they  also  are 
"  made  in  vain." 

4.  And,  further,  when  we  take  into  account  those  millions  of  man- 
kind, who  are  condemned,  through  the  whole  of  life,  to  manual  and 
mechanical  labours ;  whose  day  after  day  is  consumed  in  a  constant 
round  of  the  same  unvaried  employment, — the  twisting  of  a  thread, 
the  continuing  the  friction  of  a  wheel,  the  exercise  of  the  file,  the 
saw,  or  the  hammer,  and  similar  operations,  which  have  so  little  con- 
cern with  mind,  so  little  tendency  to  engage  the  intellectual  powers 
by  which  man  is  distinguished  from  the  surrounding  creatures,  that 
they  are  as  well,  if  not  better,  performed  by  various  machines  of 
modern  invention  ;  who,  that  limits  his  view  of  man  to  this  sublunary 
scene,  can  forbear  to  sympathize  with  the  desponding  Psalmist  in  the 
text  ?  In  labours  like  these,  he  observes,  millions  of  those  beings  are 
employed  who  are  created  with  a  mind  capable  of  looking  backward 
and  forward  with  endless  activity  of  thought, — capable  of  compre- 
hending truth  and  advancing  in  knowledge, — capable  of  enjoying  a 
happiness  commensurate  with  its  own  vast  desires.  The  inheritors 
of  such  faculties  are  employed  in  labours  like  these  ;  in  the  perform- 
ance of  which,  after  the  practice  of  a  few  years,  they  attain  such  a 
facility  and  perfection  that  no  room  is  left  for  improvement ;  and  for  the 
rest  of  life  nothing  remains  but  the  repetition  of  the  self-same  labours  ; 
labours  in  which  the  mind  is  altogether  passive  and  dormant,  nor  is 
any  exercise  afforded  to  the  reason  or  the  affections.  Not  that  I 
would  be  understood  to  censure  the  mechanism  of  civilized  society, 
which  evidently  requires  this  arrangement  in  a  greater  or  less  degree : 
but,  walk  the  streets  of  a  commercial  or  manufacturing  city ;  observe 
the  multiplicity  of  handicraft  occupations  which  meet  your  eye  at  every 
point ;  and,  without  blaming  the  existing  organization  of  society,  I  ask 
whether, — if  cares  like  these  are  to  engage  the  chief  part  of  human 
attention  (cares  rendered,  perhaps,  necessary  by  the  imperfection  of 


382  THE  VANITY  OF  MAN 

our  present  circumstances,  but  immensely  disproportioned  to  the  ca- 
pacity of  our  nature), — if  men  are  condemned  to  terminate  their  ex- 
istence in  these  pursuits,  and  are  not  reserved  for  another  and  higher 
state  of  being,  I  ask  Avhether  the  great  majority  of  mankind  are  not 
"  made  in  vain  ?" 

5.  But  there  are  those,  it  may  be  said,  who  do  not  fall  under  this 
melancholy  representation ;  7nen  of  tvealth,  millions  of  fortune,  who 
bask  in  her  smiles,  and  revel  in  her  favours  ;  whose  circumstances 
seem  to  be  formed  by  their  will,  and  who  appropriate  whatever  they 
desire.  Surely,  you  will  say,  such  "  men  of  this  world  have  their 
portion  in  this  life  ;"  surely  an  existence  like  theirs,  even  if  we  sup- 
pose it  confined  to  earth,  apart  from  any  ulterior  consideration,  has  a 
sufficient  end'in  itself;  and,  though  their  existence  is  short,  they  are 
exempt  from  the  charge  of  having  been  "  made  in  vain."  Now  there 
is  a  delusion  in  this  view :  and  if  we  examine  the  advantages  which 
men  of  wealth  possess  over  others,  we  shall  find  that  nearly  all  the 
pleasures  peculiar  to  superfluous  opulence  are  reducible  to  two  classes  ; 
the  class  of  sensual  grat  if  cations,  and  that  of  ambitwus  distinctions. 

(1.)  And  first,  with  regard  to  ihe  gratifications  of  sense  which  the 
rich  have  at  their  command ;  how  little  these  can  be  said  to  redeem 
their  possessors  from  the  lot  of  a  vain  existence, — how  little  these 
conduce  to  supply  that  happiness  which  is  the  end  and  perfection  of 
our  being, — will  appear  by  the  following  considerations. 

The  pleasures  of  sense,  in  the  first  place,  can  never  be  proposed  as 
an  adequate  end  of  our  creation  ;  because,  in  pursuing  them  we  always 
regard  them  as  subordinate  to  something  of  superior  importance,  our 
regard  to  which  is  allowed  to  be  the  just  rule  of  sensual  indulgence. 
The  inferiority  of  these  pleasures  to  something  beyond  and  above 
themselves  is  never  doubted  :  a  wise  man  advises  a  proper  abstinence 
from  such  pleasures  for  the  sake  of  health  ;  a  good  man,  for  the  sake 
of  virtue  ,•  either  of  which  is  justly  regarded  as  an  object  superior  to 
that  which  it  ought  to  regulate.  But  the  true  end  of  existence  must  be 
something  final,  something  beyond  which  nothing  can  be  proposed  as 
of  superior  magnitude  :  and  unless  there  be  alleged  some  worthier 
object  of  our  creation  than  one  which  is  thus  referred  to  another  which 
has  a  right  to  supersede  it,  it  cannot  be  disproved  that  "  men  are  made 
in  vain." 

Besides  which,  let  it  be  recollected,  in  the  next  place,  that  the  plea- 
sures of  sense,  pursued  beyond  a  certain  limit,  so  far  from  tending  to 
create  happiness,  tend  to  destroy  it,  by  the  very  construction  of  those 
organs  which  are  the  instruments  of  sensual  enjoyment.  Tliat  craving 
after  happiness  which  every  bosom  feels,  and  the  satisfaction  of  which 
involves  the  perfection  of  our  existence,  cannot  be  supposed  to  attain 
its  proper  object  in  any  of  those  animal  pleasures,  of  which  the  pursuit 
(unless  kept  in  continual  check)  leads  to  the  extinction  of  happiness 
and  existence  itself.  'J'he  proper  object  of  this  grand  desire  of  our 
nature  must  be  something,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  we  may  safely  let 
loose  the  utmost  energy  and  ardour  of  the  soul ;  something  essentially, 
entirely,  and  eternally  good,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  we  need  not  fear 


APART  FROM  HIS  IMMORTALITY .  383 

lest  we  should  injure  ourselves,  but  may  reckon  upon  benefit  and  suc- 
cess proportioned  to  our  zeal  and  diligence, — the  pursuit  of  such  an 
object  constituting,  in  effect,  the  proper  business  of  our  being. 

And  in  the  third  and  last  place,  the  enjoyment  of  the  senses  cannot 
present  to  human  beings  the  appropriate  and  distinguishing  end  of  their 
existence,  because  they  are  only  enjoyed  by  man  in  common  with  the 
lower  animals.  That,  whatever  it  be,  which  forms  the  true  end  of 
human  existence,  must  be  something  which  is  adapted  to  the  great 
peculiarities  of  our  nature  as  rational  and  moral  beings  :  but  sensual 
fruition  is  received  in  an  equal,  perhaps  a  greater  degree,  by  the 
brutes.  To  what  purpose  this  comprehensiveness  of  reason,  this 
prodigality  of  powers,  this  grasp  of  memory,  this  vigour  of  imagina- 
tion, this  restless  activity  of  hope  and  desire,  if  the  inheritor  of  such 
high  endowments  were  doomed  to  seek  the  perfection  of  his  existence 
in  the  command  of  sensual  gratifications  ?  Few,  in  fact,  are  so  infatu- 
ated as  to  believe  that  such  gratifications  are  the  end  of  their  creation. 
Notwithstanding  the  ardour  with  which  the  pleasures  of  sense  are 
pursued  by  many,  still  they  are  always  regarded  (at  least  where  society 
is  not  unusually  depraved)  as  matter  of  shame  and  concealment  to 
their  votaries ;  all  thinking  persons  are  anxious  to  redeem  their  char- 
acter from  the  degrading  imputation  of  devoted  sensuality,  by  inter- 
mingling other  and  worthier  pursuits  with  pleasures  of  this  description : 
and  he  who  should  abandon  himself,  in  the  gratification  of  animal 
propensities,  to  the  neglect  of  every  higher  aim,  would  be  universally 
allowed  to  have  lived  "  in  vain." 

(2.)  But  there  is  another  class  of  pleasures,  as  Avas  observed,  with 
the  command  of  which  wealth  supplies  us;  i\\e  pleasures  of  ambition, 
— the  respect  and  homage  which  are  paid  to  high  station  and  splendid 
circumstance.  Now,  on  an  examination  of  these  pleasures,  it  will  be 
found  that  they  are  unreal  and  imaginary  ;  that  they  consist  of  nothing 
more  than  a  fiction  of  the  imagination,  a  false  elation  of  the  mind,  by 
which  we  may  be  said  to  identify  ourselves,  or  to  be  identified  by  others, 
with  all  those  varied  instruments  of  pleasure  which  affluence  com- 
mands ;  by  which  we  diffuse  ourselves,  as  it  were,  over  the  whole 
sphere  in  which  we  preside.  Of  those  who  place  their  happiness  in 
pleasures  of  this  class  it  may  be  most  emphatically  said,  that  "  they 
walk  in  a  vain  show  :"  and  could  we  assign  no  better  end  of  our  being 
than  that  which  thus  places  it  in  a  mere  delusion, — a  false  semblance 
of  enjoyment, — we  should  be  reduced  to  confess  that  "  all  men  are 
made  in  vain." 

Thus  it  appears  that  neither  the  pleasures  of  sense  nor  those  of 
ambition  (to  the  one  or  the  other  of  which  classes  all  the  pleasures 
of  wealth  are  reducible)  afford  any  adequate  account  of  our  existence 
as  confined  to  the  present  scene  ;  and  that  men  of  wealth  are  not,  more 
than  others,  exempt  from  the  mournful  charge  of  the  Psalmist. 

6.  To  proceed.  Neither  can  we  exempt  from  the  same  condition 
men  of  knowledge,  who  pass  life  in  the  cultivation  of  intellect  and  the 
pursuit  of  truth ;  an  object,  it  must  be  allowed,  better  suited  to  the 
nature,  and  better  proportioned  to  the  dignity  of  man  as  a  rational 


384  THE  VANITY  OF  MAN 

being,  than  those  before  mentioned ;  an  object  which  too  many,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  have  in  every  age  regarded  as  the  very  highest  which  they 
could  propose  to  themselves,  as  characteristic  of  a  state  beyond  which 
they  could  aspire  to  none  more  exalted  :  and  in  which,  if  they  could 
but  escape  from  all  intrusions  of  passion  and  accident,  they  would  be 
completely  happy,  they  would  desire  no  higher  order  of  existence. 

That  the  favourite  pleasures  of  such  men, — the  pleasures  of  know- 
ledge and  intellect, — are  noble  in  their  nature,  exquisite  in  their  degree, 
and  permanent  in  their  continuance,  will  not  be  denied  by  those  who 
have  sufficiently  experienced,  and  who  are  competent  to  estimate  them. 
But,  in  the  first  place,  to  how  few  are  these  pleasures  confined  !  AVhat 
a  mere  scantling  of  the  race  is  qualified  to  enjoy  them  in  any  consid- 
erable degree !  Not  one  person  in  a  thousand  has  either  the  abilities 
or  the  opportunities  requisite  to  their  high  enjoyment ;  while  to  the 
rest,  to  the  great  bulk  of  mankind,  they  are  the  hidden  treasures  of  a 
sealed  book.  And  can  that  be  supposed  the  final  object  of  our  being 
which  can  be  enjoyed  but  by  a  small  proportion  of  those  who  inherit 
that  being  1  Is  it  to  be  conceived  that,  while  the  million  are  "  made 
in  vain,"  only  here  and  ihere  a  chosen  individual  is  permitted  to  attain 
a  destiny  worthy  of  his  nature?  The  truth  is,  of  the  few  who  make 
knowledge  the  aim  of  their  engagements,  none  can  secure  himself  from 
the  intrusion  of  disturbing  passions  or  distressing  accidents.  It  is 
only  in  the  smooth  expanse  of  the  lake,  when  there  is  no  wind  to 
agitate  its  bosom,  that  the  forms  of  surrounding  nature  are  reflected 
clear  and  unbroken  :  and  thus  it  is  only  where  the  mind  is  in  a  state 
of  undisturbed  tranquillity  that  the  pleasures  of  science  and  literature 
can  be  pursued  with  success.  But  the  lights  of  philosophy  are  liable 
to  be  broken  by  the  waves  of  adversity,  and  darkened  by  the  clouds 
of  grief ;  the  man  of  study  is  obnoxious  to  the  same  external  privations, 
— of  health,  friends,  or  fortune, — with  other  men ;  the  invasions  of 
calamity,  to  which  all  are  exposed,  will  find  him  out  in  the  most 
sequestered  retreat ;  and,  after  all,  he  will  be  ieelingly  convinced  that, 
if  knowledge  be  the  end  of  our  being,  and  that  being  terminates  on 
earth, — he,  like  all  other  men,  has  been  "  made  in  vain." 

Besides  which,  we  have  it  on  the  testimony  of  one  of  the  greatest 
proficients  in  knowledge  that  ever  appeared  among  men,  that  "increase 
of  knowledge,"  far  from  being  increase  of  happiness,  "  is  increase 
of  sorrow."  And  though  this  proposition  may  require  to  be  received 
with  some  limitations,  certain  it  is  that  the  mere  knowledge  of  things, 
the  mere  perception  of  truth,  is  something  extremely  different,  some- 
thing entirely  separable  from  the  enjoyment  of  things,  the  possession 
of  real  happiness.  There  is  not  between  the  two  the  slightest  neces- 
sary connexion :  there  may  exist  in  the  same  character  the  scantiest 
portion  of  the  one  in  union  with  the  largest  measure  of  the  other. 
We  by  no  means  find  that,  the  more  things  we  know,  the  more  we 
enjoy  our  existence ;  and  the  simple  reason  is,  that  knowledge  has  its 
abode  in  the  understandings  while  happiness  is  seated,  not  in  the  under- 
standing, but  in  the  heart ;  so  that  the  condition  of  the  rudest  peasant 
may  be  an  object  of  envy  to  the  most  enlightened  philosopher.     In  a 


APART  FROM  HIS  IMMORTALITY-  385 

word,  liappiness  is  a  state  which  we  are  all  equally  concerned  to 
attain ;  but  wealth  and  knowledge  are  conditions  accessible  only  to  a 
few.  Happiness  has  its  seat  in  the  heart ;  but  wealth  and  knowledge 
are  not  adapted  to  satisfy  our  affections :  therefore  wealth  or  knowledge 
cannot  be  supposed  to  constitute  that  proper  happiness  of  man,  without 
which  he  is  "  made  in  vain." 

7.  Once  more.  There  yet  remains  another  and  a  yet  more  elevated 
order  of  men,  who  place  the  grand  object  of  their  being  in  religion; 
who  think  of  God,  trust  in  God,  and  on  all  occasions  devote  them- 
selves to  do  the  will  of  God :  men  who,  receiving  the  Scriptures  as 
His  own  divine  revelation,  conceive  that  they  are  pardoned  and  ac- 
cepted by  their  heavenly  Father,  through  the  mediation  of  the  Son  of 
his  love  ;  conceive  that  they  are  renewed  and  influenced  by  the  power 
of  His  Spirit ;  and,  regarding  the  "  things  which  are  seen  and  tem- 
poral" as  preparatory  to  those  which  are  "  unseen  and  eternal," — "  set 
their  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  of  the  earth ;"  consider 
themselves  as  "  dead  to  the  world,  and  their  life  as  hid  with  Christ  in 
God ;  and  trust  that  when  He  who  is  their  life  shall  appear,  they  also 
shall  appear  with  Him  in  glory."  What  shall  we  say  of  such  persons  ? 
We  say  that,  if  this  were  the  only  state  of  being  ordained  for  man, 
they,  like  others,  would  be  "  made  in  vain  :"  we  say,  with  the  despond- 
ing Psalmist,  "  Verily,  they  have  cleansed  their  hearts  in  vain,  and  in 
vain  washed  their  hands  in  innocence :  wc  aflirm,  with  the  apostle 
Paul  himself,  "  If  in  this  life  only  they  have  hope,  they  are  of  all  men 
7nost  miserable,"  most  Avorthy  to  be  commiserated.  For,  according 
to  this  supposition,  they  are  the  only  persons  who  are  utterly  disap- 
pointed of  their  object ;  the  only  persons  who  (by  a  fatal  and  irrepar- 
able mistake),  expecting  an  imaginary  happiness  in  an  imaginary  world, 
lose  their  only  opportunity  of  enjoying  those  present  pleasures  of 
which  others  avail  themselves ;  dooming  themselves  to  grasp  at 
shadows,  while  they  neglect  the  substance  ;  harassed  with  a  perpetual 
struggle  against  their  natural  propensities  and  passions ;  incurring, 
perhaps,  the  enmity  or  ridicule  of  their  fellow-mortals ;  and — if  the 
supposition  be  true  that  there  is  no  such  future  state  as  that  which 
they  anticipate — all  this  is  in  vain ! 

But  that  supposition  is  not,  for  a  moment,  to  be  believed :  these  men 
are  7iot  thus  deluded ;  they  are  not  to  be  thus  disappointed ;  it  is  im- 
possible to  conceive  that  they  are.  The  perplexity,  the  inconsistency, 
the  palpable  absurdity  into  which  those  are  driven  who  argue  upon 
the  non-existence  of  immortality,  the  falsehood  of  revelation,  proves, 
as  far  as  proof  can  be  expected,  that  theirs  is  a  false  hypothesis ! 
Upon  their  hypothesis,  man  is  the  greatest  enigma  in  the  universe ; 
that  universe  is  itself  a  problem  not  to  be  solved :  all  is  mystery,  con- 
fusion, and  despair  !  Bring  in  the  light  of  revelation  and  immortality, 
the  clouds  and  thick  darkness  in  which  the  scene  was  enveloped  dis- 
perse, and  all  is  clear  and  harmonious.  Man,  with  his  astonishing 
endowments,  is  no  longer  "  made  in  vain ;"  the  universe,  with  its 
amazing  phenomena,  is  no  longer  "  made  in  vain !"  AVe  learn  at  once 
the  cause  and  the  cure  of  that  vanity,  in  subjection  to  which  "  the 

Vol.  hi.— B  b 


386  THE  VANITY  OF  MAx\. 

whole  creation  groans,"  together  with  man.  The  origin  of  our  misery 
and  death,  the  recovery  of  hfe  and  immortahty,  are  ahke  brought  to 
light.  Man  has  fallen  by  sin  from  the  favour  of  his  Maker ;  hence 
all  the  disorders  and  evils  that  surround  him  :  but  a  salvation  has  been 
provided ;  "  God  hath  reconciled  us  to  himself  by  Jesus  Christ,  and 
hath  committed  to  us  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  ;  God  was  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  to  himself,  not  imputing  to  them  their  tres- 
passes !  This,  my  dear  brethren,  is  the  testimony  of  God  in  his  own 
Word  ;  and,  though  men  may  dispute  its  authority,  "  let  God"  we  say, 
"  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar." 

To  attain  a  share  in  this  salvation,  to  recover  the  true  end  and  per- 
fection of  our  existence,  in  the  resemblance  and  the  favour  of  "  the 
onli/  happy  God,'''' — this  is  the  great  object  of  desire  and  pursuit  to 
those  whose  eyes  are  opened  to  their  real  situation,  whose  hearts  are 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  their  real  want.  And,  "  remembering  how 
short  their  time  is,"  they  are  the  more  in  earnest  that,  by  a  glorious 
reverse  of  their  naturally  ruined  state,  they  may  prove  at  last  to  have 
7iot  been  "  made  in  vain."  They  "  pass  the  time  of  their  sojourning 
in  fear ;"  they  are  "  sober,  and  watch  unto  prayer." — "  As  obedient 
children,  they  fashion  not  themselves  after  the  lusts  of  their  ignorance, 
but,  as  he  who  hath  called  them  is  holy,  so  they  seek  to  be  holy  in  all 
their  conversation."  In  a  word,  they  count  all  things  as  loss,  for  the 
excellence  of  the  knowledge  of  their  Lord  and  Saviour :  for  they 
"  knoio  whom  they  have  believed ;"  they  have  the  fullest  assurance  in 
their  faith.  On  other  objects,  which  are  so  eagerly  pursued  by  the 
men  of  this  world,  they  have  closed  their  eyes  for  ever :  forgetting 
tlie  things  behind,  reaching  forward  to  those  before,  they  pj-ess  forward 
to  the  mark  and  prize  of  their  high  calling ;  and,  though  racks,  ropes, 
swords,  or  fires  were  to  obstruct  their  way,  they  would  rush  through 
them  all  to  reach  their  eternal  goal !  Jesus  Christ  is  to  them  the  very 
food  of  the  soul,  the  very  bread  of  life ;  and  they  make  it  the  sub- 
stance of  their  continual  supplication,  "  Whatever  beside  is  denied. 
Lord,  evermore  give  us  this  bread!"  Such  are  the  views  and  affec- 
tions which  inspire  true  believers  ;  such  the  object  which,  stretching 
into  eternity,  puts  out,  casts  a  darkness  over,  the  brighest  sublunary 
splendours ;  an  object,  apart  from  which  it  may  be  justly  said,  that 
"  men,"  that  "  all  men,  are  7nade  in  vain  /" 

The  necessity  and  certainty  of  that  salvation,  that  immortality, 
which  the  gospel  reveals,  is  one  and  the  first  inference  from  what  has 
been  said  :  another,  and  the  last  inference  I  shall  mention,  is  the  ex- 
treme folly  and  misery  of  those  who  persist  in  the  neglect  of  this 
salvation,  this  immortality.  It  is  to  throw  away  the  end  of  existence, 
to  sever  ourselves  from  the  possibility  and  the  infinitude  of  happiness, 
and,  in  the  awful  language  of  Scripture,  to  ^'^ judge  oursclccs  unicorthy 
of  eternal  life .'"  If  a  vast  sum  of  money  were  committed  to  us,  and 
we  suddenly  discovered  that  by  our  own  neglect  the  whole  was  lost,  we 
should  be  afiected,  probably,  with  serious  alarm  and  regret;  but  what 
must  be  our  emotion, — ^what  our  consternation,  remorse,  and  despair, — 
should  we  discover,  at  the  last  judgment,  that  wc  have  lived  in  vain  ;  that, 


DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY,  SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.      387 

so  far  as  our  own  interest  is  concerned,  we  have  been  made  in  vain  ; 
that  we  have  received  the  grace  of  God  in  vain ;  that,  having  neglected 
the  one  salvation,  we  are  lost,  lost  in  the  scale  of  being;  immortal  crea- 
tures, lost  to  the  great  purpose  for  which  our  Maker  gave  us  existence  ; 
lost  to  happiness  ;  irrecoverably  and  for  ever  lost !  What  must  it  be 
to  discover  that  the  mistake  we  have  committed  is  at  once  infinite  and 
irreparable ;  that  we  have  been  guilty  of  an  infatuation  which  it  will 
require  eternity  to  cleplore,  and  eternity  to  comprehend  I  Now  is  the 
accepted  time.  Let  us  earnestly  avoid  such  an  unutterable  calamity ; 
let  us  choose  the  favour  of  God  as  the  only  adequate  end  of  our  being ; 
and  embrace  the  salvation  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  only  way  to  attain 
that  end :  in  a  word,  let  us  act  as  those  who  are  swayed  by  the  con- 
viction that  the  Christian  is  the  only  man  of  whom  it  can  be  said,  in 
relation  to  eternal  felicity,  that  he  is  7iot  "  made  in  vain." 


IX. 

DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY,  SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.* 

1  Cor.  XV.  26. — The  last  enemy  that  shall  he  destroyed  is  death. 

[preached    at    BEDFORD,  MAY,   1817.] 

In  this  chapter  the  apostle  directs  the  views  of  Christians  to  the 
final  consummation  of  all  things ;  when  the  mediatorial  kingdom  of 
Clirist,  in  our  nature,  having  answered  the  ends  for  which  it  was  estab- 
lished, shall  be  surrendered,  "  and  God  shall  be  all  in  all." 

This  kingdom  is,  in  the  mean  time,  progressive,  and  will  be  so  till 
all  enemies  shall  be  subdued  and  placed  under  his  feet.  The  apostle 
brings  in  the  words  of  the  text  as  an  instance  of  this  general  proposi- 
tion  ;  but  it  may  be  proper  here  to  remark  somewhat  of  inaccuracy  in 
our  common  version.  That  rendering  does  not  seem  to  sustain  the 
conclusion  to  which  the  apostle  had  arrived.  It  was  his  purpose  to 
establish  the  perfection  of  our  Saviour's  conquest,  the  advancement  of 
his  triumphs,  and  the  prostration  of  all  enemies  whatever  beneath  his 
power.  Now,  to  say  that  "  the  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is 
death,"  by  no  means  affords  proof  of  this  position.  Though  death 
might  be  destroyed,  and  be  the  last  enemy  that  should  be  destroyed,  it 
would  not  thence  appear  but  that  other  enemies  might  remain  not  de- 
stroyed. But  the  proper  rendering  is,  "  Death,  the  last  enemy,  shall  be 
destroyed." 

Having  made  this  observation,  I  would  now  direct  your  attention  to 
the  import  of  the  proposition ;  and  I  will  consider — 

I.  The  nature  of  that  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed ;  and  why  be  is 
called  "the  last  enemy." 

*  From  the  notes  of  tlie  Rev.  S.  Hillyard. 

Bb2 


388  DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY, 

II.  The  manner  and  the  successive  stages  in  which  our  Lord  Jesus 
has  already  conquered  in  part,  and  will  completely  conquer,  this  last 
enemy. 

I.  The  nature  of  that  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed,  and  why  he  is 
called  "  the  last  enemy." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  much  to  show  that  death  is,  in  many 
respects,  an  enemy  to  the  sons  of  Adam.  It  is  so,  first,  if  we  consider 
it  in  its  most  obvious  effects — the  dissolution  of  the  human  frame. 
Every  part  of  the  body  is  part  of  a  marvellous  fabric,  of  a  wonderful 
machine  ;  which  bears  upon  it  the  mark  of  Divine  wisdom,  and  skill  in 
its  contrivance  and  execution.  It  is  a  work  which  man  is  not  only 
unable  to  form  or  contrive,  but  the  contrivance  of  which  he  is  not  able 
to  comprehend.  Every  man  possesses  and  carries  in  himself  certain 
excellences  of  composition,  and  enjoys  the  benefit  of  innumerable 
operations,  while  he  is  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  internal  machinery 
by  which  they  are  produced.  If  we  look  upon  the  Goths  and  Vandals 
as  the  enemies  of  the  nations,  and  of  all  civilized  society,  because  they 
destroyed  palaces  and  temples,  and  the  ancient  monuments  of  art, 
what  must  we  think  of  death,  which  demolishes,  not  only  in  one  victim, 
but  in  innumerable  victims,  the  noblest  fabric  that  was  ever  raised  on 
earth,  and  spoils  the  most  skilful  works  that  were  ever  constructed  ? 
All  human  beauty,  and  vigour,  and  strength  are  at  once  laid  prostrate 
by  the  power  of  death ;  are  broken  and  shivered  to  pieces  under  the 
stroke  of  this  great  tyrant.  Were  we  to  see  at  once  all  the  victims 
which,  in  different  lands  and  climes,  and  in  all  ages,  have  fallen  before 
him,  we  should  behold  a  pile  of  ruins  raised  to  the  heavens  :  but  these 
ruins  are  mostly  crumbled  to  dust,  and  concealed  in  the  darkness  of  the 
grave  ;  or  what  an  amazing  view  would  be  afforded  of  the  power  and 
conquests  of  this  universal  enemy  ! 

Again,  Death  is  an  enemy  as  he  puts  an  end  to  all  that  is  terrestrial 
with  regard  to  man.  All  the  schemes,  and  projects,  and  thoughts  that 
relate  only  to  the  concerns  of  time,  are  destroyed.  "In  that  day," 
says  the  Word  of  God,  "  his  thoughts  perish  :"  all  the  thoughts  of  the 
sublimest  genius  of  the  most  acute  philosophers,  of  the  subtlest  states- 
men, of  the  most  ambitious  projectors,  perish  !  All  find,  at  once,  a  ter- 
mmation  to  their  intellectual  labours,  their  sublunary  joys  and  sorrows, 
hopes  and  fears  :  they  go  only  as  far  as  death  leaves  space  for  them  ; 
and  slop  wlicre  he  opposes  his  power.  As  much,  therefore,  as  the 
world  is  worth, — as  much  as  it  possesses  of  value  in  the  eyes  of  man, — 
so  much  is  death  to  be  considered  as  a  formidable  foe,  standing  forth 
against  him,  and  in  opposition  to  his  career. 

Say,  ye  ambitious,  ye  lovers  of  wealth,  ye  pursuers  of  earthly 
pleasure,  what  will  all  the  objects  you  desire  avail  you  when  you  are 
summoned  to  meet  this  last  enemy,  and  are  by  him  confined  to  the 
narrow  limits  of  tiie  grave  ?  What  will  you  do  in  that  period  when 
your  "  souls  shall  be  required  of  you,"  and  you  are  questioned,  "  Whose 
shall  these  things  be  V  As  much  as  you  value  these,  so  much  will 
death  be  your  enemy. 

Death  is  also  an  enemy  because  of  the  separation  of  the  tenderest 


SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.  399 

ties  of  nature  and  affection  ;  of  all  those  endearments  of  friendship  and 
relationship  that  bind  man  to  man.  Death  tears  asunder  brothers  and 
sisters,  husbands  and  wives,  parents  and  children ;  he  snatches  the 
tender  infant  from  the  mother's  breast,  or  bereaves  it  of  parental  care, 
and  leaves  it  a  helpless  orphan  in  this  wilderness.  One  part  of  the 
moral  compound  is  left  by  him  to  mourn  and  sigh,  while  the  other  part 
is  mingled  with  corruption,  and  becomes  a  companion  of  worms. 
Death  so  mars  the  features,  that  the  most  passionate  admirers  of  the 
fairest  and  most  lovely  forms  of  beauty  are  constrained  to  say,  as 
Abraham  said  of  Sarah,  "  Bury  my  dead  out  of  my  sight."  All  the 
fruits  of  friendship  are  withered  by  his  breath  ;  and  one  has  been  called 
alone,  to  go  through  the  dai'k  passage  where  no  one  could  accompany 
him :  while  the  survivor,  who  is  left  behind,  frequently  experiences 
the  greatest  stffierings  from  the  emotions  and  reflections  of  his  mind. 
Alas  !  how  many  fond  mothers,  beloved  children,  and  valuable  friends 
have  been  already  sacrificed  to  this  inexorable  tyrant  !  Nor  is  there 
any  union  so  closely  formed,  nor  any  friendship  so  established  and 
strengthened,  but  it  will  be  cut  asunder  and  destroyed  by  the  stroke  of 
this  great  enemy,  death. 

But  the  most  terrible  part  yet  remains, — the  moral,  or  rather  the 
eternal  consequences  of  death.  If  Divine  grace  had  not  interposed, 
death  has  a  sting  by  which  he  would  pierce  every  transgressor,  and 
send  him  to  a  state  of  interminable  misery.  "  The  sting  of  death  is 
sin  ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."*  The  death  of  the  body  is  by 
no  means  the  full  infliction  of  the  penalty  of  the  divine  law.  What  we 
look  upon  as  death  is  only  a  dark  passage  which  conducts  the  sinner 
to  the  state  of  eternal  death.  The  dissolution  of  our  body,  and  the 
separation  of  the  spirit  from  it,  is  but  a  preparation  ;  like  knocking  off 
the  chains  and  fetters  from  a  prisoner  who  is  about  to  be  led  forth  to 
the  place  of  execution.  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death ;  but  the  gift  of 
God  is  eternal  life."t  Eternal  life  is  here  contrasted  with  death :  but 
what  is  the  opposite  of  eternal  life  but  eternal  death — the  death  of  the 
soul,  which  consists  of  the  perpetual  loss  of  hope ;  a  cutting  off  from 
the  presence  and  favour  of  God ;  a  sense  of  his  eternal  wrath,  which 
burns  like  devouring  fire  ?  The  second  death  treads  in  the  footsteps  of 
the  first,  and  its  shadow  covers  it ;  it  is  the  infliction  of  the  sentence  of 
the  Eternal  Governor  of  the  miiverse ;  and  the  fear  of  it  makes  those 
who  are  aware  they  are  sinners  willing  to  struggle  with  a  load  of  cares 
and  sorrows,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hand  of  the  living  God :  for  it  is 
a  fearful  thing, — "  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living 
God.'t 

There  are  many  properties  of  this  enemy  which  give  him  the  pre- 
eminence of  terror.  He  is  an  inexorable  enemy.  Others  may  be 
bribed  by  riches,  soothed  by  flatteries,  moved  by  the  tears  and  sorrows 
of  a  suppliant,  or  reconciled  by  a  mediator ;  a  daysman  may  inter- 
pose ;  one  may  come  between  us  and  our  enemy,  who  may  interpose 
to  ward  off  or  suspend  the  blow :  but  none  can  "  give  a  ransom  for 
his  brother,"  to  redeem  his  soul  from  death  ;^  "  there  is  no  discharge 

*  J  Cor.  x>v.  56.  tRom.vi.  23.  t  Heb.  x.  31.  5  Psalin  xlix.7. 


390  DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY, 

in  that  war  :"*  the  redemption  of  the  soul  ceaseth  "  for  ever ;"  there 
is  no  price  that  can  be  ofl'ered,  or  Avould  be  accepted.  All  the  riches 
of  the  universe  would  be  despised,  if  they  were  offered  for  only  an 
hour's  deliverance  from  tlie  power  of  death :  he  wants  the  man  him- 
self, not  what  he  possesses.  Death  will  tear  away  the  most  ambitious 
from  the  heiglits  of  all  his  power,  the  wealthy  from  the  midst  of  all  his 
stores,  and  the  voluptuous  from  the  scene  of  all  his  pleasures.  His 
ear  is  insensible  to  tlie  groans  of  the  child,  and  his  eye  is  unmoved  by 
the  tears  of  the  mother ;  he  is  not  to  be  arrested  or  turned  aside  by  the 
wailings  of  innocence,  or  by  the  outcries  of  guilt.  All  are  levelled  by 
the  same  undistinguishing  stroke,  and  there  is  no  possibility  of  release. 

Death  is  an  impartial  enemy.  Other  enemies  have  particular 
grounds  of  quarrel ;  they  do  not  oppose  the  whole  of  the  species,  but 
some  individual,  or  a  number  of  persons  from  whom  they  have  re- 
ceived, or  suppose  they  have  received,  an  injury  :  but  every  one  of  the 
human  race  is  the  object  of  his  enmity ;  his  arrows  will  level  all  in 
the  dust ;  "  for  it  is  appointed  for  all  men  once  to  die  ;"t  and  the  grave 
is  the  "  house  of  all  the  living."  The  strongest  know  that  all  their 
strength  must  fail :  amid  all  their  dissipation,  their  hurry  and  care, 
their  jollity  and  mirth,  they  know,  that  in  the  path  along  which  they 
hasten  on  there  is  one  that  will  meet  and  destroy  them  ;  and  they 
begin  to  look  forward  with  anxiety  and  dismay  in  proportion  as  they 
approach  the  seat  of  this  terrible  majesty. 

Like  other  great  monarchs,  he  also  has  harbingers  to  proclaim  and 
prepare  for  his  approach.  He  sends  before  him  the  most  agonizing- 
pains  and  afflictions ;  diseases  that  consume  our  strength  and  vigour, 
and  sometimes  induce  us  to  expect  his  arrival  every  moment.  By  the 
trembling  joints,  the  dimness  of  the  eyes,  the  changed  countenance, 
the  breaking  of  the  "  bowl  at  the  cistern,"  and  the  loosing  of  the  "  sil- 
ver cord,"  we  know  that  he  is  near  at  hand.  There  is  a  shadow  of 
death  cast  before  him,  extending  according  to  the  height  of  this  terrible 
majesty,  and  stretching  over  part  of  the  vale  of  life :  yes,  all  that  pre- 
cedes our  dissolution,  all  that  is  preparatory  to  the  last  stroke,  are  har- 
bingers of  death ;  afflictive  in  themselves,  and  to  be  dreaded  on  their 
own  account,  but  peculiarly  fearful  as  the  precursors  of  this  great 
adversary. 

As  these  are  liis  forerunners,  so  he  has  innumerable  and  dreadful 
instruments  to  destroy.  The  famine  and  the  pestilence  are  in  his 
hand ;  he  kindles  the  fury  of  the  battle,  and  riots  in  the  field  of 
slaughter;  he  Avings  the  forked  lightning,  and  expands  the  jaws  of  the 
devouring  earthquake.  The  air  we  breathe,  the  elements  by  which 
we  are  supplied,  and  the  food  upon  which  we  subsist  are  often  con- 
verted into  the  instruiuents  of  death  :  he  levies  a  contribution  upon  all ; 
and  extracts  the  poison  of  mortality  from  that  which  is  given  for  the 
sustenance  of  life. 

Death  is  called,  not  only  an  enemy,  but  the  "  last  enemy."  This  is 
introduced  principally  to  denote  the  completeness  of  the  Redeemer's 
conquest:  nothing  remains  after  the  last. 

*  Eccles.  viii.  8.  t  Hcb.  ix.  27. 


SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.  391 

This  is  the  last  enemy  of  the  church  of  God  in  its  collective  capacity. 
Persecution  shall  cease,  affliction  be  removed,  fears  and  terrors  of 
conscience  quelled,  temptations  overcome,  and  Satan  subdued :  still 
the  triumphs  of  death  will  remain ;  a  large  portion  of  what  the  Lord 
has  redeemed  will  remain  under  his  dominion  ;  the  bodies  of  believers 
will  continue  in  the  grave  till  the  final  consummation  of  all  things. 
Though  Jesus  Christ  extends  his  sceptre  over  all  nations,  and  all 
kingdoms  become  the  kingdoms  of  God  and  his  Christ, — though  millions 
of  the  faithful  shall  reign  with  him,  and  rejoice  over  every  other  enemy, 
and  hope  to  rejoice  over  this, — yet  the  vestiges  of  his  conquests  shall 
remain  legible  in  the  graves  of  the  saints,  and  on  the  tombs  and  monu- 
ments of  the  just. 

Death  is  also  the  last  enemy  of  every  believer.  Th&  Christian  obtains 
hope  of  pardon ;  he  goes  on  conquering  one  temptation  after  another, 
"  from  strength  to  strength,"  from  victory  to  victory ;  but  he  knows 
that,  after  all,  his  body  must  come  under  the  power  of  this  enemy,  and 
remain  for  a  season  in  his  dark  domain.  "  I  have,"  says  he,  "  been 
carried  through  many  trials  :  I  have  surmounted  many  difficulties  ;  I 
have  triumphed  over  many  powerful  temptations ;  but  the  dying  part 
still  remains :  I  have  still  a  scene  to  pass  through,  in  which  I  must  be 
left  alone ;  no  friendly  hand  to  guide  or  support  me.  I  must  engage, 
singly,  with  an  enemy  whom  all  men  dread,  and  whose  power  no  man 
comprehends,  for  it  is  invisible.  He  smites  with  an  unseen  hand ;  and, 
though  millions  have  passed  through  the  conflict,  not  one  has  returned 
to  tell  the  secrets  of  his  power  and  to  unveil  his  territory  ;  which,  after 
so  many  ages,  remains,  as  to  us,  '  a  land  of  darkness,  as  darkness 
itself.'  "  Though  the  Christian  does  not  sink  into  despair  as  he  meets 
the  last  enemy  and  the  hour  of  contest  approaches,  yet  he  frequently 
trembles ;  for  he  knows  not  what  may  occur  before  that  triumph  is 
aflbrded  which  puts  the  seal  of  perpetuity  to  all  the  other  triumphs  of 
his  soul. 

To  other  men,  what  ought  I  to  say  of  the  last  enemy  ?  However 
long  they  have  escaped  his  power,  he  will  meet  them  at  last ;  when 
they  are  giddy  with  intoxicating  pleasures ;  or  walking  on  the  heights 
of  boundless  ambition ;  or  are  the  slaves  of  an  avarice  rapacious  as 
the  grave  :  when  they  imagine  they  have  nothing  to  fear,  when  "  they 
have  more  than  heart  can  wish,  and  their  eyes  stand  out  with  fatness," 
they  find  an  enemy  coming  upon  them  like  an  armed  man  ;  they  find 
in  death  all  that  is  terrible  ;  they  are  forced  to  encounter  the  last  enemy 
— an  enemy  that  must  be  conquered,  or  they  must  be  defeated  and  lost 
for  ever  and  ever. 

II.  We  are  to  consider  the  manner,  and  the  successive  stages,  in 
which  our  Lord  Jesus  has  already  conquered  in  part,  and  will  com- 
pletely conquer,  this  last  enemy.  "  He  must  reign  till  he  hath  put 
all  enemies  under  his  feet."*  Death,  the  last  enemy,  shall  be  de- 
stroyed. 

Consider  the  degrees  and  stages  by  which  Jesus  Christ  conquers 
death. 

*  1  Cor.  XV.  25 


392  DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY, 

1.  By  his  incarnation  and  passion  he  purchased  a  right,  in  behalf 
of  the  human  race,  to  conquer  death  and  to  triumph  over  it.  Power 
and  right  are  two  distinct  things  ;  and,  among  men,  the  former  is  fre- 
quently opposed  to  the  latter.  A  man  may  have  power  to  do  what  he 
has  no  right  to  do.  Jesus  Christ,  as  God,  had  power  to  put  down 
death ;  but  it  was  necessary,  in  order  that  it  might  be  put  down  fitly 
and  properly,  that  such  an  expiation  should  be  made  as  would  remove 
the  guilt  on  account  of  which  mankind  were  doomed  to  die.  "  It  be- 
came him," — there  was  a  fitness,  a  congruity  in  it, — "  it  became  Him, 
for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  \vhom  are  all  things,  in  bringing  many 
sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect  through 
sufferings."*  Not  perfect  with  respect  to  his  moral  character,  but 
perfectly  fitted  for  his  w'ork ;  sustaining,  by  his  suffering,  the  penalty 
his  people  had  incurred,  and  thus  acquiring  an  indisputable  right  to 
conduct  them  through  every  scene  of  life  and  death  to  his  kingdom  and 
glory.  Remember,  the  moral  consequence  of  sin  is  death.  It  was 
impossible  that  this  enemy  should  be  put  down  unless  some  way  could 
be  found  to  expiate  our  offences,  that  the  transgressors  might  be  freed 
from  the  penalty  which,  being  transferred,  was  sustained  by  a  surety. 
It  was  Jesus  Christ  who,  in  consequence  of  uniting  in  his  person  the 
nature  of  God  and  man,  interposed  between  man  and  God  "  to  make  an 
end  of  sins,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting  righteousness."!  This  he 
accomplished  by  his  incarnation  and  suffering.  His  incarnation 
rendered  him  capable  of  suff'ering,  and  his  Divinity  stamped  an  infinite 
value  upon  the  sufferings  of  his  humanity.  Thus,  the  weakness  of 
his  flesh  unhed  with  the  dignity  of  his  Godhead  to  procure  the  ransom 
of  mankind  from  their  subjection  to  death.  His  Father  "  laid  help 
upon  him  as  one  that  is  mighty,"  "  he  exalted  one  chosen  out  of  the 
people  :"|  "  this  is  his  servant  whom  he  upholds,  his  elect  m  whom 
his  soul  delighteth."^ 

This  enemy,  according  to  the  established  and  eternal  rules  of  the 
Divine  government,  could  not  be  encountered  and  overcome  but  by  one 
who  was  willing  to  yield,  for  a  season,  to  his  power.  He  that  would 
conquer  death  for  us  must  invade  his  territories,  pass  the  threshold  of 
his  cavern,  become  an  inhabitant  or  a  sojourner  in  his  domains  :  and 
to  this  Jesus  submitted.  By  death  "  he  destroyed  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil,  and  delivered  them  who,  through 
fear  of  death,  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage."||  Thus,  by 
weakness,  he  became  "  mighty  to  save."  His  sufferings  and  death 
upon  the  cross  laid  those  deep  foundations  on  which  the  fabric  of 
immortality  is  firmly  built. 

2.  Jesus  Christ,  by  his  Spirit,  gives  the  earnest  and  the  pledge  of 
victory  over  the  last  enemy :  he  takes  away  the  power  of  sin,  which 
is  the  sting  of  death,  and  he  communicates  the  principle  of  life. 
Whoever  is  enabled,  through  the  Spirit,  to  lay  hold  of  Jesus  ('hrist 
by  faith,  lays  hold  of  him  who  is  the  "resurrection  and  the  life." 
"  Whosoever  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die."F     Thus  our  Saviour 

*  Heb.  ii.  10.  t  Dan.  ix.  21.  i  Psalm  Ixxxix.  19. 

$  Isaiah  xlii.  1.  ||  Heb.  ii.  14, 15.  II  John  xi.  25,  26. 


SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.  393 

taught,  to  the  confusion  of  the  Jews :  "  Whoso  eateth  my  flesh,  and 
drinketh  my  blood,  hath  eternal  life ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the 
last  day.  For  my  flesh  is  meat  indeed,  and  my  blood  is  drink  indeed. 
He  that  eateth  my  flesh,  and  drinketh  ray  blood,  dwelleth  in  me,  and  I 
in  him.  As  the  living  Father  hath  sent  me,  and  I  live  by  the  Father, 
so  he  that  eateth  me,  even  he  shall  live  by  me.  This  is  that  bread 
which  came  down  from  heaven :  not  as  your  fathers  did  eat  manna  in 
the  wilderness,  and  are  dead :  he  that  eateth  of  this  bread  shall  live 
for  ever."*  Thus  they  shall  never  taste  death;  that  bitter  taste, 
which  lies  in  the  dread  of  its  consequences,  they  shall  not  experience 
as  those  do  who  know  not  Christ,  and  have  not  his  Spirit.  They  who 
flee  into  the  arms  of  the  Saviour,  who  appropriate  the  fruits  of  his 
death,  become,  thereby,  living  members  of  their  living  head ;  they 
have  the  "  earnest  of  the  purchased  inheritance ;"  they  enjoy  peace 
with  God,  a  holy  superiority  over  their  "  last  enemy ;"  and,  as  they 
advance  to  the  contest,  can  triumphantly  exclaim,  "  O  death,  where  is 
thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?"t  They  know  him  to  be 
a  destroyer  only  of  that  which  must  be  destroyed ;  and  that  even  the 
body,  though  it  moulder  to  dust,  shall  rise  again.  Their  souls  are 
also  inlaid  with  blessed  principles,  so  as  to  be  prepared  for  a  glorious 
immortality.  "  If  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none 
of  his.  And  if  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is  dead  because  of  sin ; 
but  the  spirit  is  life  because  of  righteousness.  But  if  the  Spirit  of 
him  that  raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  m  you,  he  that  raised  up 
Christ  from  the  dead  shall  also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his 
Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  you  ;"J  and  by  these  influences  they  shall 
become  meet  subjects  of  eternal  purity  and  happiness. 

Thus  Jesus  Christ  goes  on  reigning  till  every  portion  of  the  power 
of  death  is  abolished.  The  penalty  of  death  is  conditionally  abolished 
in  favour  of  the  whole,  so  that  it  is  proclaimed  throughout  the  world, 
that  "  whosoever  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  shall  never  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life."^  And  there  is  an  earnest  of  immortality  in  the 
believer :  as  Jesus  Christ,  our  substitute,  took  possession  of  immor- 
tality, and  "  became  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept,"|(  so  all  his 
saints  have  in  themselves  an  inward  pledge,  like  that  which  Christ 
had  on  earth,  an  earnest  of  their  alliance  to  eternal  life. 

3.  When  these  preparatory  measures  have  taken  place,  the  empire 
of  death  shall  be  sapped  to  the  foundation,  and  its  power  be  utterly 
destroyed.  This  has  been  a  widely  extended  empire,  founded  on,  or 
spreading  over,  the  ruins  of  all  other  empires :  it  has  comprehended 
within  its  domains  all  the  seed  of  Adam  ;  it  has  continued  from  age  to 
age.  Compared  with  the  length  of  its  existence,  the  boasted  eternal 
duration  of  the  Roman  city  and  empire  is  as  nothing.  But  the  final 
stroke  will  produce  the  entire  overthrow  of  this  wide  and  lasting 
dominion.  The  chapter  from  which  the  text  is  taken  treats  of  this. 
He  who  first,  by  his  death,  gave  us  a  right  to  this  victory,  He  who,  by 
giving  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit,  raised  us  to  a  holy  superiority  over 

*  John  vi.  54-58:  t  1  Cor:  xv.  55.  X  Rom.  viii.  9-11. 

5  John  iii.  16.  ]|  1  Cor.  xv.  20. 


394  DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY, 

our  enemy,  vill  at  last  vanquish  him  by  that  almighty  energy  by^vhich 
he  is  "  able  even  to  subdue  all  things  unto  himself."*  He  will  then 
"  fashion  these  vile  bodies  like  unto  his  own  glorious  body ;"  he  will 
stand  forth  as  the  pattern  by  which  believers  shall  be  formed.  They 
that  are  earthy  continue,  like  the  first  man,  earthy  ;  but  believers,  who 
once  bore  the  image  of  the  earthy,  now  bear  the  image  of  the 
heavenly.  "  The  first  man  is  of  the  earth,"  but  "the  second  man 
is  the  Lord  from  heaven."!  He  has  the  capacity  of  everlasting 
existence  ;  a  well-spring  of  life  from  which  life  will  be  supplied  to  all 
his  brethren.  In  the  epistle  to  the  Thessalonians,  which  is  the  first 
that  was  written  by  this  apostle,  he  says,  "  I  would  not  have  you  to 
be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them  which  are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow 
not,  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope.  For,  if  we  believe  that 
Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus 
will  God  bring  with  him.  For  this  w'e  say  unto  you  by  tlie  word  of 
the  Lord,  that  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  unto  the  coming  of  the 
Lord  shall  not  prevent  them  wlii(;h  are  asleep.  For  the  Lord  himself 
shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout,  with  the  voice  of  the  arch- 
angel, and  witli  tlie  trump  of  God :  and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise 
first."f  He  does  not  mean  to  teach  us  here  that  they  shall  rise  before 
the  wicked,  however  true  that  may  be ;  but  that  they  shall  rise  before 
those  who  are  alive  shall  be  changed :  "  then  we  which  are  alive  and 
remain  shall  be  caught  up  in  the  clouds  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air ; 
and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord."§  The  first  effect  of  Divine 
power  will  be  to  raise  the  dead  in  a  moment,  to  call  forth  those  that 
sleep  in  the  dust,  to  make  *'  the  sea  give  up  the  dead  that  are  in  it ;" 
to  loosen  tlie  tombs  and  open  the  sepulchres  that  have  been  closed  for 
ages  over  the  dust  of  the  saints  :  then  "they  which  are  alive  shall  be 
changed."  He  recurs  to  the  same  subject  in  this  chapter:  "Behold," 
says  he,  "  I  show  you  a  mystery  ;  We  shall  not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall 
all  be  changed,  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the  last 
trump :  for  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the  dead  shall  be  raised 
incorruptible,  and  we  shall  be  changed."||  The  last  trump,  which 
shall  give  notice  of  the  change  of  those  that  are  alive,  is  here  dis- 
tinguished from  the  former  trumpet,  at  the  sounding  of  which  the 
dead  shall  be  raised.  Thus  the  Saviour,  by  one  voice,  uttered  whh 
greater  majesty  than  when  he  said,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth,"  will  raise 
the  dead ;  and  by  a  second  he  will  change  the  living ;  so  that  all 
will  be  prepared  to  be  "  caught  up  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air." 

Thus  the  empire  of  death,  which  has  suffered  a  slow  decay,  which 
it  has  required  so  many  ages  to  overthrow,  which  has  seemed  to 
recover  from  its  defeats,  will  at  last  sink  by  one  powerful  stroke,  never 
to  rise  again.  It  will  not  require  more  than  a  moment  of  time  to 
raise  all  the  dead,  to  lay  open  every  sepulchre,  to  restore  every  par- 
ticle of  dust,  that  is  fit  to  be  restored,  to  its  proper  body,  and  for  all 
the  bodies  of  the  saints  to  be  prepared  for  the  mansion  of  eternal 
glory. 

♦Phil,  iii.21.  tlTor.  XV.  47.  J  1  Thess.  iv.  13-16. 

i  1  Thess.  iv.  17.  ||  1  Cor.  xv.  51, 52. 


SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.  395 

How  insipid  and  tame  are  the  histories  of  all  other  conquests, — of 
the  rise  and  fall  of  all  other  kingdoms  and  empires, — when  compared 
with  the  grand  and  wonderful  achievements  of  the  "  King  Immortal," 
and  the  fall  of  death  beneath  his  power,  and  the  giving  up  of  all  his 
prey ;  when  every  victim  from  earth  and  sea,  though  under  monu- 
ments of  marble,  nay,  rocks  of  adamant,  shall  be  restored  ;  when 
he  shall  bring  forth  every  particular  form  to  be  repossessed  by  its 
proper  spirit,  from  which  it  has  been  for  a  season  divorced !  Thus 
will  he  "  swallow  up  death  in  victory,"  and  then  clothe  his  redeemed 
with  garments  of  immortality.  Death  shall  be  known  and  feared  no 
more.  Millions  of  millions  shall  join  in  everlasting  praises  to  him 
whom  all  the  redeemed  will  acknowledge  as  their  great  Deliverer. 

My  dear  brethren,  what  is  the  proper  improvement  of  this  subject? 
To  raise  our  eyes  in  adoration  and  gratitude  to  the  blessed  Saviour, 
who  will  fulfil  the  threatening,  "  O  death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues ;  O 
grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction."*  "  Thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth 
us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  "  We  shall  be  more 
than  conquerors,  through  him  that  loved  us."t  Lift  up  your  eyes,  ye 
saints,  in  love  and  praise  to  the  glorious  Redeemer.  He  hath  recon- 
ciled you  by  his  blood ;  defeated  your  spiritual  enemies,  and  raised  in 
you  hopes  of  immortality.  What  remains  for  you  is  infinitely  greater 
than  what  you  possess.  "  Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and 
it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be :  but  we  know  that  when  he 
shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."| 
What  is  the  proper  frame  of  spirit  for  you  to  possess  ?  To  have  your 
conversation  in  heaven,  to  be  "  looking  for,  and  hasting  to,  the  coming 
of  the  Son  of  God." 

How  great,  my  brethren,  are  the  privileges  you  enjoy  !  Have  you 
any  need  to  scramble  for  the  perishing  riches  of  this  world?  Will 
you  "  load  yourselves  with  thick  clay  ?"  Will  you  fret  and  repine  if 
you  are  disappointed  in  your  expectation  of  worldly  good,  or  if  you 
are  deprived  of  what  you  once  enjoyed  ?  Will  you  forget  "  the  inherit- 
ance incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserved  in 
heaven  for  you  who  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God,  through  faith,  unto 
salvation  ?"  The  pledge  is  granted  to  you  now.  Your  Elder  Brother, 
at  the  right-hand  of  the  throne,  has  taken  possession  for  you.  Will 
you  corrupt  yourselves  with  "  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  of  the  eye,  and 
with  the  pride  of  life,"  while  you  have  heaven  open  to  your  view,  and 
the  promise  of  eternal  life  laid  before  you?  It  doth  not  indeed 
"  appear"  at  present  "  what  you  shall  be ;"  there  is  not  room  enough 
on  earth  for  the  display  of  such  glory :  the  glory  of  the  eternal  world 
must  come  down,  before  we  can  fully  know  what  "  God  hath  prepared 
for  them  that  love  him."  Your  glory  would  be  too  great  to  be  sus- 
tained by  flesh  and  blood ;  these  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  but  at 
the  redemption  of  the  body.  Then  shall  be  the  "manifestation  of  the 
sons  of  God  :"  the  meanest  Christian  will  appear  as  a  glorious  temple 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  every  saint  will  arise  and  shine  as  the  sun  in  the 

*  Hosea  xiii.  14.  t  Rom.  viii.  37.  i  1  John  iii.  2. 


390  DEATH,  THE  LAST  ENEMY, 

kingdom  of  his  heavenly  Father.  At  his  powerful  voice,  that  pene- 
trates the  grave  and  agitates  the  dust,  all  shall  shine  forth  with  a  lustre 
which  will  extinguish  all  sublunary  glory. 

How,  also,  ought  these  considerations  to  elevate  believers  above 
the  sorrows  and  afflictions  of  time  !  The  apostle,  when  speaking  of 
the  same  solemn  event,  in  the  passage  from  the  Thessalonians  which 
I  have  already  quoted,  adds,  "  Wherefore,  comfort  one  another  with 
these  words."  This  indeed  is  substantial  comfort ;  this  is  the  balm 
of  every  wound ;  this  supports  us  under  the  stroke  that  bereaves  us 
of  our  dearest  friends  and  relatives.  Those  who  have  followed  the 
remains  of  Christians  to  the  grave  have,  amid  their  sorrows,  nour- 
ished heavenly  hope,  and  enjoyed  consolation  sufficient  to  make  them 
almost  the  objects  of  envy. 

And  this  enemy  is  the  "  last  enemy :"  when  he  is  destroyed,  the 
field  will  be  quite  clear ;  the  vast  field  of  eternity  will  be  free  from 
every  molestation.  The  mind  may  travel  on  as  far  as  imagination 
can  extend,  and  nothing  will  arise  to  discourage.  This  is  the  "  last 
enemy :"  nothing  more  to  be  feared ;  all  sin  shall  be  absolved,  the 
powers  of  darkness  banished,  evil  inclinations  eradicated,  and  the 
world  destroyed.  When  death  is  vanquished,  all  his  precursors, 
appendages,  and  consequences  shall  fall  with  him;  nothing  remains 
but  salvation,  glory,  and  eternal  life, — an  everlasting  monument  to  the 
honour  of  the  mighty  Conqueror  of  death.  Well  may  he  be  styled 
the  "King  of  kings,''  and  the  "Lord  of  lords:"  worthy  was  he  to 
receive  a  name,  a  "  new  name,"  exalted  "  above  every  other  name," 
"  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  and  every  tongue 
■confess"*  him  to  be  Lord  of  all !  Never  was  there  another  being, 
much  less  a  being  in  our  nature,  who  ever  thought  of  gaining  such  a 
victory,  ever  thought  of  lifting  up  a  weapon,  or  aiming  a  stroke,  in 
such  a  conflict.  But  Jesus  has  "  led  captivity  captive  ;"t  he  has 
swallowed  up  death  in  victory. 

I  speak  to  dying  men,  and  cannot  conclude  without  addressing  a 
word  to  those  who  have  no  acquaintance  with  Christ,  no  vital  union 
with  him,  no  comfort  in  his  promises.  You  may  have  surmounted 
many  difficulties,  been  conducted  through  scenes  of  trial,  gained  some 
advantage  over  certain  enemies,  obtained  great  prosperity  in  the  world, 
and  be  ready  to  say,  "  Soul,  take  thine  ease,  thou  hast  much  goods 
laid  up  for  many  years ;"  but  recollect,  there  is  another  enemy  yet  to 
contend  with  ;  a  dreadful^  battle  remains  to  be  fought,  and  by  no  power 
of  your  own  can  you  overcome.  There  is  an  adversary  at  the  end  of 
your  path :  he  adds  to  the  tyranny  all  the  caprice  which  is  common 
to  arbitrary  powers ;  he  delights  to  strike  into  the  dust  those  who  are 
most  exalted  ;  he  loves  to  shoot  his  arrows  at  a  shining  mark,  and 
suddenly  to  fall  upon  those  who  are  least  apprehensive. 

Whether  you  are  aware  of  this  enemy  or  not,  whether  you  foresee 
his  approach  or  not,  he  will  meet  you,  and  engage  you  in  a  greater 
conflict  than  you  have  ever  yet  sustained.     You  must  conquer,  or  be 

*Phil.  ii.  9-11.  tEph.  iv.  8. 


SHALL  BE  DESTROYED.  397 

defeated  and  lost  for  ever.  But  you  have  no  power  to  overcome,  to 
appease,  to  deceive,  to  tiiirn  away,  or  to  escape  from  this  strong  adver- 
sary. There  is,  however,  a  proclamation  proceeding  from  the  Saviour, 
in  tlie  gospel :  "  I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life  :  whosoever  liveth 
and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die."*  "  The  hour  is  coming  when 
they  that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  and 
shall  come  forth."t  "  Them  that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with 
him."|  "Wherefore,  blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord:" 
their  spirits  repose  in  his  bosom ;  even  their  dust  is  precious  in  his 
sight,  and  he  watches  over  it  till  he  shall  fashion  it  anew ;  and  in  body 
and  spirit  they  shall  be  heirs  of  immortality  and  partakers  of  his  glory 
for  ever  and  ever. 

What  then  remains  for  my  dying  hearers  1  Some  of  you  will,  per- 
haps, never  hear  another  sermon ;  all  are  liable  soon  and  suddenly  to 
fall ;  none  of  you  can  escape,  none  can  find  comfort  but  in  the  Saviour 
and  in  his  gospel.  What  then  remains  ?  What  is  your  wisdom  1  What 
does  sound  common  sense  dictate,  but  that  you  should  make  an  imme- 
diate application  to  the  Saviour,  and  place  an  entire  confidence  in  him  ; 
that  you  should  pray  for  his  Spirit,  and  seek  its  constant  guidance  1 
Let  me  entreat  you  that  are  young  to  consider  that  your  covenant  with 
death  will  soon  he  at  an  end.  Youth  is  often  the  victim  of  this  enemy  ; 
and  he,  whom  thev  think  will  come  late,  because  he  is  the  last  enemy 
on  earth,  frequently  levels  those  to  the  dust  who  bid  fair  to  flourish 
for  years  to  come. 

Some  of  you  have  advanced  far  in  the  path  of  life ;  gray  hairs  are 
here  and  there  upon  you :  others  observe  your  approach  to  the  cave 
of  the  last  enemy ;  the  feebleness  of  your  voice,  the  wrinkles  on  your 
forehead,  the  decay  of  your  vigour,  forebode  your  last  conflict,  while 
you  are  buried  amid  the  cares  of  life,  and  think  nothing  of  death. 
"  This  is  a  lamentation,  and  shall  be  for  a  lamentation,"  that  men  so 
near  to  eternity  will  not  look  to  the  Saviour,  nor  direct  a  single  thought 
.  to  heaven,  nor  ofl^er  up  one  prayer  to  secure  the  immortal  crown. 

Prepare  for  death  !  You  cannot  be  prepared  but  by  repentance  and 
faith.  "  This  is  life  eternal,  to  know  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  he  hath  sent  i"!^  not  to  hear  of  Christ,  or  speak  of  him, 
or  profess  him  ;  but  to  hioiv  him ;  to  have  fellowship  vvith  him ;  to 
have  an  interest  in  him ;  to  receive  him  as  your  friend,  while  you 
submit  to  his  sceptre.  If  you  have  not  yet  submitted  to  the  Saviour, 
when  you  come  to  the  end  of  life,  what  can  you  carry  with  you  1 
What  can  you  retain,  but  an  immortal  nature,  a  conscience  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  therefore  of  your  own  deserts  ? — an  awful  respon- 
sibility ! 

"After  death  is  the  judgment."  What  is  to  shield  you  in  judgment 
from  the  stroke  of  vengeance  ?  Have  you  been  hearing  the  calls  of 
the  gospel  without  regarding  them  ?  Have  you  not  applied  the  truth 
to  yourselves  1  O,  retreat  now  from  the  snares  of  the  world ;  shut 
your  eyes  upon  the  scenes  of  time,  on  which  they  must  soon  be  closed 
for  ever.     Converse  with  the  world  to  come ;  endeavour  to  yield  to 

^  John  xi.  25,  26.  t  John  v.  2S,  29. 

X  1  These,  iv.  14.  ^\  John  xvii.  3. 


398  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

the  power  of  it ;  look  at  "  the  things  which  are  not  seen ;"  walk,  as  it 
were,  upon  the  borders  of  the  ocean  of  eternity,  and  listen  to  the 
sound  of  its  waters  till  you  are  deaf  to  every  sound  besides. 

The  blessed  Saviour,  who,  when  he  was  upon  earth,  raised  the 
dead  and  healed  all  manner  of  diseases,  is  able  to  heal  your  spirhual 
maladies,  and  to  raise  you  from  the  dead.  He  is  exalted  for  this  pur- 
pose :  the  "  river  of  life"  flows  from  his  side  ;  he  invites  you  to  partake 
of  it ;  "  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say.  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth 
say,  Come.  And  whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the  water 
of  life  freely."*  In  the  blessed  Saviour  are  all  the  springs  of  pardon, 
grace,  and  everlasting  consolation :  he  will  guide  you  through  every 
scene,  give  you  victory  over  death,  admit  you  through  the  gates  into 
the  city,  and  tliere  he  will  "  wipe  away  all  tears  from  your  eyes  ;"t  he 
will  dwell  with  you,  and  you  with  him ;  and  you  shall  be  "  kings  and 
priests  unto  God"  for  ever. 

When  you  meet  with  the  next  suggestion  to  infidelity,  the  next 
temptation  to  sin,  ask  whether  those  who  tempt  you  can  confute  the 
declarations  of  Jesus ;  whether  they  can  give  such  evidence  of  the 
falsehood,  as  he  gives  of  the  truth,  of  his  sayings ;  whether  they  can 
offer  any  thing  that  is  worthy  of  being  put  in  competition  with  the 
blessings  he  promises ;  Avhether  all  the  world  affords, — even  if  it 
could  be  prolonged  to  eternity,  which  cannot  be, — would  be  equal  to 
the  blessings  of  eternal  and  heavenly  glory  ?  If  not,  turn  from  them  ; 
spurn  them  away ;  "  lay  hold  on  eternal  life,"  and  say,  "  God  forbid 
that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by 
whom  the  world  is  crucified  unto  rae,  and  I  unto  the  world." 


X. 

THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS  DEPENDS  UPON  THE  AGENCY 
OF  THE  SPIRIT.J 

IsA.  xxxii.  13-15. —  Upon  the  land  of  my  people  shall  come  up  thorns 
and  briers ;  yea,  -upon  all  the  houses  of  joy  i7i  the  joyous  city : 
because  the  palaces  shall  he  forsaken  ;  the  multitude  of  the  city  shall 
be  left ;  the  forts  and  toivcrs  shall  be  dens  for  ever,  a  joy  of  wild 
asses,  a  pasture  of  flocks  ;  until  the  Spirit  be  poured  upon  us  from 
on  high,  and  the  wilderness  be  a  fruitful  field,  and  the  fruitful  field 
be  counted  for  a  forest. 

[preached  at  the  baptist  missionary  meeting  at  CAMBRIDGE,  OCTOBER  6,  1819.] 

This  chapter  contains  a  very  evident  prophecy  of  the  appearance 
and  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  as  you  perceive  by  referring  to  the  first 

*  Rpv.  xxii.  17.  +  Rev.  .xxi.  4. 

i  Printed  from  the  notes  of  W.  H.  Gumey,  Esq.,  collated  and  blended  with  those  of  the  Rev.  S. 

Ilillyard. 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  399 

part  of  it.  Contrary  to  what  might  be  expected,  the  prophet  turns 
aside  ;  and,  instead  of  finishing  die  painting  of  that  beautiful  scene  of 
things  which  might  be  anticipated  as  the  effect  of  this  appearance,  he 
proceeds  to  pahit  a  scene  of  great  desolation,  of  great  barrenness,  in 
the  words  which  have  now  been  read  to  you.  Agreeably  to  this,  the 
actual  efl'ect  of  our  Saviour's  manifestation,  with  respect  to  the  people 
to  whom  he  more  immediately  came,  was  by  no  means  such  as  might 
be  expected.  After  gathering  a  few  out  of  that  nation,  and  thus  plant- 
ing the  first  Christian  church,  God  retired  from  them  on  account  of 
their  impenitence  and  unbelief ;  and  the  land  is  still  abandoned  to  that 
desolation  and  barrenness  which  is  here  represented. 

Under  these  figures  we  are  probably  principally  called  to  notice  the 
spiritual  barrenness,  the  spiritual  blindness,  hardness,  and  impenitence 
of  heart  Avhich  have  befallen  that  unhappy  people,  and  under  which 
they  at  present  labour.  It  is  said,  in  the  words  now  read,  that  this 
vmhappy  state  will  continue  to  a  certain  point  of  time,  or  rather  till  the 
arrival  of  a  certain  important  event :  that  event  is  predicted  in  the 
last  verse.  If  it  were  asked  the  prophet.  How  long  shall  this  state 
of  desolation  last  ?  he  answers,  "  until  the  Spirit  be  poured  upon  us 
from  on  high,  and  the  wilderness  be  a  fruitful  field,  and  the  fruitful 
field  be  counted  for  a  forest."  Thus  the  prophet  teaches  us,  that  the 
desolations  will  not  come  to  an  end,  until,  in  consequence  of  great 
changes,  and  the  improvement  of  the  moral  condition  of  men,  there 
shall  arise  a  state  of  prosperity  by  which  the  wilderness  shall  be  a 
fruitful  field,  and  that  which  is  now  so  esteemed  shall  be  counted  in 
comparison  a  forest. 

Though  the  immediate  bearing  of  these  words  is,  in  all  probability, 
upon  the  state  and  prospects  of  the  Jewish  people ;  yet,  by  parity  of 
reasoning,  it  may  be  extended  much  farther,  and  may  be  considered 
as  assigning  the  reason  why  the  nations  of  the  earth  continue  in  so 
wretched  a  state,  with  respect  to  things  spiritual  and  divine,  as  that 
which  they  now  exhibit :  and  they  may  be  considered  as  directing  our 
expectations,  and  regulating  our  confidence,  respecting  the  final  ter- 
mination of  this  state  of  things  ;  teaching  that  it  will  come  to  an  end, — 
that  a  great  and  beneficial  change  will  take  place,  but  not  till  the 
Spirit  be  poured  out  from  on  high.  Tiien,  and  not  till  then,  will  "  the 
wilderness  be  a  fruitful  field,  and  the  fruitful  field  be  counted  for  a 
forest." 

Considered  in  this  light,  these  words  bear  a  very  close  relation  to 
the  subject  of  our  present  meeting,  and  tend  to  regulate  our  views  and 
expectations  respecting  the  success  of  that  great  work,  with  a  view  to 
the  promotion  of  which  we  are  at  this  time  assembled  in  the  presence 
of  the  Almighty ;  and  may  allay  that  dissatisfaction  and  discontent, 
so  far  as  it  borders  on  repining,  which  the  comparatively  small  success 
attending  tlie  proclamation  of  the  gospel  in  the  present  times  might 
excite ;  while  it  serves  to  strengthen  our  faith  in  the  promise  of  that 
Being,  who,  as  he  has  afforded  this  hope,  is  abundantly  able  to  acconi' 
plish  it  by  that  mighty  power  by  which  he  will  "  subdue  all  things 
unto  himself." 


400  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

The  great  anJ  momentous  truth  taught  in  this  passage,  you  perceive, 
my  brethren,  is,  that  the  ultimate  success  of  missions, — of  the  procla- 
mation of  the  gospel,  in  short,  in  every  form, — depends  upon  the 
communication  of  the  Spirit ;  and  that  its  perfect  success  can  be 
effected  only  in  consequence  of  that  Spirit  being  "  poured  down  from 
on  high."  It  is  this  momentous  truth,  and  the  proper  improvement  of 
it,  to  which  on  the  present  occasion  I  shall  request  your  serious 
attention. 

That  the  Spirit  of  God  is  afforded  at  present  to  the  church  is  evident 
from  its  existence  ;  for,  since  the  church  is  entirely  a  spiritual  structure, 
raised  and  preserved  by  that  Divine  Spirit,  if  it  had  been  utterly  with- 
drawn, it  would  have  been  annihilated.  Every  member  of  that  church 
is  the  production  of  the  Spirit,  quickened  by  the  Spirit,  and  moulded  to 
accord  with  the  foundation-stone  upon  which,  by  faith,  it  is  built.  We 
cannot,  therefore,  for  a  moment  contemplate  the  total  withdrawment 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  either  as  an  event  that  has  taken  place  since  the 
first  proclamation  of  Christianity,  or  as  one  that  is  to  be  apprehended. 
We  witness  many  pleasing  instances,  in  our  congregations  and 
churches,  of  Divine  communications  to  the  mind, — of  hearts  opened  to 
"  receive  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it,"  and  brought  into  willing  captivity 
to  Christ ;  instances  as  clearly  verified  as  those  we  read  of  in  the 
New  Testament.  But  still,  though  the  Spirit  of  God  is  not  utterly 
withdrawn,  that  time  has  not  arrived  which  is  here  announced  ;  the 
Spirit  is  not  "  poured  from  on  high"  in  that  plenitude  and  variety  of 
gifts  which  may  be  reasonably  expected.  A  few  drops  of  this  sacred 
influence  descend  here  and  there ;  but  it  by  no  means  descends  in  so 
copious  a  shower,  nor  so  widely  difl'uses  that  spiritual  fertility  which 
the  Scriptures  give  us  reason  to  anticipate ;  it  is  not  "  poured  from  on 
high." 

That  the  success,  the  ultimate  and  full  success  of  missions  depends 
upon  the  outpourings  of  the  Spirit  of  God  appears  to  be  manifest  from 
the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  This  involves  a  doc- 
trine so  familiar  to  your  apprehensions  who  are  acquainted  with  "  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  .Tesus,"  that  it  would  be  needless  to  accumulate  all  the 
proofs  the  Scripture  would  supply  ;  a  few  passages  only  are  necessary. 
Our  text  is  one  of  this  kind.  In  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah  you  find 
frequent  passages  of  Scripture  which  represent  that  the  work  of  dif- 
fusing Christianity  is  to  be  throughout  truly  the  work  of  God, — is  to  be 
distinguished  as  such  by  eveiy  serious  spectator.  Thus  we  are  told 
that  he  will  plant  "  in  the  wilderness  the  cedar-tree,  the  shittah-tree, 
and  the  myrtle,  and  the  oil-tree  ;  that  he  will  set  in  the  desert  the  fir- 
tree,  and  the  pine,  and  the  box-tree  together ;  that  they  may  see,  and 
know,  and  consider,  and  understand  together  that  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  hath  done  this,  and  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  hath  created  it ;" 
plainly  implying  that  the  bringing  in  of  the  heathen  nations,  as  well 
as  the  conversion  of  the  Jews,  is  so  much  the  work  of  God,  that  it 
will  be  made  conspicuous  to  all  true  believers. 

When  the  conversion  of  the  Jews,  which  must  be  supposed  to  be 
effected  by  the  same  sort  of  agency,  is  annomiced  by  the  prophet 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  401 

Zechariali,  it  is  in  these  words :  "  And  I  will  pour  upon  the  house  of 
David,  and  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  the  spirit  of  grace  and 
of  supplications ;  and  they  shall  look  upon  me  whom  they  have 
pierced,  and  they  shall  mourn  for  him,  as  one  niourneth  for  his  only 
son,  and  shall  be  in  bitterness  for  him,  as  one  that  is  in  bitterness  for 
his  first-born.  In  that  day  shall  there  be  a  great  mourning  in  Jerusa- 
lem, as  the  mourning  of  Hadadrimmon,  in  the  valley  of  Megiddon. 
And  the  land  shall  mourn,  every  family  apart ;  the  family  of  the  house 
of  David  apai-t,  and  their  wives  apart ;  the  family  of  the  house  of  Nathan 
apart,  and  their  wives  apart ;  the  family  of  the  house  of  Levi  apart,  and 
their  wives  apart ;  the  family  of  Shimei  apart,  and  their  wives  apart ;  all 
the  families  that  remain,  every  family  apart,  and  their  wives  apart."  The 
prophet  Zechariah,  in  order  to  encourage  Zerubbabel  in  the  building 
of  the  temple, — where  an  eminent  type  is  presented  of  the  Messiah, 
the  great  Restorer  of  the  temple  of  God,  who  is  announced  under  the 
appellation  of  the  True  Branch, — says,  it  is  "not  by  power,  nor  by 
might,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

The  passage  in  Joel,  when  cited  by  St.  Peter*  on  the  day  of  Pen- 
tecost, he  refers  to  the  events  of  that  day  :  and  though  this  may  seem 
to  break  in  upon  our  doctrine,  yet,  when  truly  considered,  it  confirms 
it ;  for  we  are  not  to  consider  this  as  fulfilled  merely  at  one  period, 
but  at  different  stages  ;  as  verified  at  different  eras,  and  as  pointing- 
out  a  steady  series  of  operations  of  the  Divine  Being,  effected  by  the 
same  sort  of  agency,  and  for  the  same  purpose,  at  different  periods 
of  the  gospel  dispensation,  all  comprehended  under  the  general  term 
"  the  last  days.''''  If  mere  human  agency  would  avail,  no  reason  can 
be  assigned  why  it  should  not  have  been  sufficient,  at  that  time,  for 
the  conversion  of  the  Jews ;  as  well  as  for  the  conversion  of  the 
gentiles  at  present.  But  we  know  that  the  conversion  of  the  Jews 
was  the  effect  of  the  miraculous  effusion  of  the  Spirit  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost ;  and  we  have  reason  to  suppose  there  will  be  alike  effusion 
before  the  consummation  of  all  things ;  one  which  will  realize  more 
fully  the  prediction  of  the  prophet  Joel :  for  he  does  not  change  one 
man  by  one  means,  and  another  by  one  that  is  totally  different ;  and 
one  nation  by  one  kind  of  agency,  and  another  by  another ;  but  the 
mode  in  which  he  proceeds,  and  the  nature  of  the  materials  employed, 
are,  wilh  i-egard  to  Him,  just  as  uniform  as  the  nature  of  the  work  to 
be  accomplished.  Wherever  the  diffusion  of  the  gospel  is  presented 
to  us  in  the  Old  Testament,  in  a  course  of  prophetic  annunciation,  the 
hand  of  God  is  always  the  object  to  which  it  is  referred:  it  is  per- 
petually claimed  as  his  work ;  and  the  most  magnificent  expressions 
are  used  to  represent  this  work  in  distinction  from  any  other.  The 
prophet  Jeremiah  declares  that  a  new  covenant  shall  be  made,  distinct 
from  that  made  with  their  forefathers,  by  which  God  will  undertake  to 
put  his  "law  in  their  inward  parts,  and  write  it  in  their  hearts;  that 
he  will  be  their  God,  and  that  they  shall  be  his  people."  Who  can 
possibly  suppose  this  can  intend  any  thing  else  but  the  real  agency  of 
the  Spirit  of  God  ?     For  by  what  words  can  that  be  more  aptly  repre- 

*  Acts  ii.  17; 

Vol.  in.— C  c 


402  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

sented  than  by  the  Divine  Spirit  who  wrote  with  his  own  finger,  on 
the  stony  tables,  the  words  of  the  law,  and  who  will  inscribe  his 
precepts  on  "  the  fleshly  tables  of  the  heart  ?"  When  the  Divine 
Being  informs  the  Jews,  that,  after  a  long  series  of  desolations  and 
judgments,  he  shall  bring  to  a  close  their  captivities,  painting  it  in  very 
delightful  colours,  he  says,  "  And  I  will  no  more  hide  my  face  from 
them ;  for  I  have  poured  out  my  Spirit  upon  the  house  of  Israel,  saith 
the  Lord  God."* 

In  the  New  Testament,  we  learn  that  the  great  Captain  of  our  sal- 
vation did  not  encounter  the  powers  of  darkness,  or  enter  upon  his 
work,  till  he  was  anointed  by  the  Spirit  of  God :  "  The  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  God  is  upon  me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  poor :  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted,  to 
preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and  renewing  of  sight  to  the  blind  ; 
to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bound,  to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord."  He,  though  a  personage  of  such  a  divine  and  extraor- 
dinary character,  yet,  considered  as  an  instrument  in  this  work  (with 
reverence  be  it  spoken),  was  not  qualified  for  it  till  the  Spirit  had 
descended  upon  him ;  and  when  he  went  into  the  wilderness  he  was 
filled  with  the  Spirit.  His  apostles  also  were  made  fit  for  their  work 
by  the  effusion  of  the  Spirit  from  on  high,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost : 
till  that  time  they  were  not  qualified  for  their  work  in  the  nations  to 
which  they  were  to  be  sent.  And  though  I  am  aware  it  may  be  said, 
this  respects  the  conferring  miraculous  gifts,  yet,  be  it  recollected,  that 
we  find  as  great  a  change  in  the  moral  state  of  the  disciples :  from 
being  ignorant,  secular,  and  pusillanimous,  they  were  brought  into  a 
most  blessed  frame  of  mind  ;  they  were  truly  enlightened,  and  trans- 
formed at  once  into  heroes  of  zeal  and  piety.  There  appeared  as 
great  a  change  in  their  affections  and  hearts :  they  were  as  much 
purified  and  refined  from  their  former  selves  as  they  were  distinguished 
by  the  possession  of  miraculous  gifts. 

Wherever  the  apostles  had  any  distinguished  success  in  the  ministry 
of  the  gospel,  they  certainly  remind  us  of  its  being  eflected  by  a  Divine 
agency.  If  they  preached  with  success  at  Antioch,  where  it  appears 
that  their  ministry  was  attended  with  great  benefit,  it  is  announced  in 
these  words:  "And  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  with  tliem."  When 
Paul  had  preached  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  after  having  been  com- 
mitted with  Barnabas  to  the  work  of  the  Lord  to  which  they  were  sent, 
they  represented  to  the  church  "  how  God  had  opened  a  way  to  the 
gentiles  :"  and  the  Jewish  Christians  were  compelled,  we  are  told,  to 
magnify  the  grace  of  God  in  communicating  this  blessing  to  them  ;  and 
they  did  it  in  these  words :  "  Then  hath  God  also  to  the  gentiles 
granted  repentance  unto  life."  If  Lydia  was  converted  to  the  faith  of 
Christ,  we  are  told  it  was  because  "  the  Lord  had  opened  her  heart  to 
attend  to  the  things  that  were  spoken."  How  clear  and  decided,  again, 
is  the  language  of  Paul,  when  speaking  on  this  subject! — "Who, 
then,  is  Paul,  and  who  is  Apollos,  but  ministers  by  whom  ye  believed, 
even  as  the  Lord   gave  to   every  man?     I  have  planted,  Apollos 

*  Ezek.  xxxix.  29. 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  40^ 

watered,  but  God  gave  the  increase  :  so  then  neither  is  he  that  planteth 
any  thing,  neither  he  that  watereth,  but  God  that  giveth  the  increase." 
Sincere  preachers  of  the  gospel,  then,  as  far  as  they  have  been  suc- 
cessful in  the  work,  even  from  the  very  beginning,  from  the  first  com- 
munication of  Divine  truth,  have  uniformly  represented  it  as  the  work 
of  God,  as  the  work  of  his  Spirit,  independent  of  the  instrumentality 
which  he  employed  in  the  ministry  of  the  Word :  those  instruments 
themselves  considered  it  as  the  work  of  God  to  confer  success  on  their 
labours  by  the  power  of  his  Spirit.  It  is  evident,  from  the  nature  of 
the  thing,  that  it  must  be  so ;  for,  considering  the  state  of  man,  it  is 
impossible  to  suppose  that  any  thing  less  than  a  Divine  power  can 
change  the  heart.  If  the  state  of  man  be  a  state  of  trespasses  and 
sins, — if  "  the  carnal  mind  be  enmity  against  God," — how  is  it  possi- 
ble  that  from  such  elements  as  these  can  spring  pure  and  ardent  love 
to  the  Divine  Being,  but  in  consequence  of  a  Divine  power  ?  "  Who 
can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  T'  Were  it  the  design  of 
God  merely  to  build  on  a  foundation  already  laid,  or  to  repair  a  dilapi- 
dated edifice,  one  might  talk  of  the  efficacy  of  human  suasion ;  but 
when  that  which  is  to  be  done  is  to  create  a  new  principle,  to  pour  new 
life  into  the  soul,  to  give  "  a  new  heart,"  to  plant  new  seeds  in  a  soil 
where  all  has  been  barrenness  and  desolation,  to  turn  the  waters  into 
new  channels,  to  effect  a  total  change  of  heart  and  character, — what 
can  accomplish  all  this  but  an  almighty  power?  Hence  the  Scriptures 
represent  it  as  a  creation  of  new  organs ;  giving  eyes  to  see  and  ears 
to  hear,  that  we  may  see,  and  hear,  and  understand,  and  feel  as  we 
never  did  before.  It  is  represented  as  quickening  the  dead,  and  this 
"  according  to  the  working  of  his  mighty  power  which  he  wrought  in 
Christ  Jesus  when  he  raised  him  from  the  dead."  Thus  "  we  are 
God's  workmanship,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works."  Faith 
is  the  great  principle  of  this  change,  and  it  is  "  the  gift  of  God,"  and 
is  of  grace ;  for,  "  by  grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith,  and  that  not 
of  yourselves,  it  is  the  gift  of  God."  "  To  you,"  says  the  same  apos- 
tle, "  it  is  given,  not  only  to  believe  on  him,  but  also  to  suffer  for  his 
sake."  What  is  more  manifest  than  that  this  language  implies  that 
believing  is  always  the  effect  of  Divine  grace?  We  allow,  indeed, 
most  cheerfully  and  thankfully,  that  the  gospel  is  the  instrument  of 
God,  and  wonderfully  fitted  by  him  for  his  work  :  but  even  it  is  nothing 
more  than  an  instrument ;  and  when  it  is  successful,  and  baffles  every 
human  effort  exerted  against  it,  it  is  because  it  is  wielded  by  an  om- 
nipotent arm.  The  gospel  of  God,  when  directed  by  the  wisdom  of 
God,  and  urged  by  his  energy,  none  can  withstand. 

Human  suasion  can  operate  only  on  principles  which  already  exist. 
When  Demosthenes,  by  his  powerful  eloquence,  excited  the  Athenians 
to  combat,  he  only  called  into  action,  by  a  skilful  grouping  of  motives, 
and  an  appropriate  exercise  of  his  genius,  principles  already  existing, 
but  which  had  lain  dormant.  He  created  nothing  new  ;  he  transformed 
them  not  into  new  creatures  ;  but  only  roused  and  stimulated  those 
principles  which  had  animated  the  bosoms  of  nations  in  resisting 
tyranny  in  every  age.     But  Avhen  the  apostles  went  forth  to  preach 

C  c2 


404  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

faith  in  Christ,  they  enforced  and  demanded,  if  I  may  so  say,  a  state 
of  things  of  which  there  had  been  no  instance :  they  proposed  to 
make  a  change  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  man  to  which  there  was  no 
natural  tendency  ;  they  required  a  creature  "  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins"  to  awake  to  Christ ;  they  proposed  to  convert  him  into  a  devoted 
servant,  a  subject  most  loyal,  most  affectionate,  and  ardent:  and  how 
was  it  possible  that  any  mere  human  art  or  force  could  effect  such 
changes  as  these  ? 

It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that  those  who  have  had  the  greatest 
success  in  preaching  the  gospel  in  heathen  nations,  as  well  as  in  Chris- 
tian lands,  have  ever  been  the  most  deeply  convinced  of  this  important 
truth  ;  a  truth  they  enforced  in  every  stage  of  the  progress  of  the  gos- 
pel, and  which,  instead  of  producing  discouragement,  only  awakened 
greater  ardour  :  their  strength  appeared  only  to  lie  in  an  implicit  con- 
fidence in  Him  whose  energy  is  all-sufficient,  and  who  has  so  fully  de- 
clared his  willingness  to  exert  it.  Thus,  Brainerd,  and  Schwartz,  and 
Eliot,  and  those  in  every  age  who  have  had  the  greatest  success  in 
turning  men  to  righteousness,  have  been  the  first  to  declare  that  they 
were  nothing.  They,  of  all  men,  most  ardently  implored,  and  most 
entirely  depended  upon,  the  agency  we  are  now  contemplating  ;  and 
their  success  appears  to  have  been  more  in  proportion  to  their  earnest 
solicitude  in  seeking  this  blessing,  this  Divine  agency,  than  to  any 
other  cause  whatsoever.  Now,  if  we  see  men  accomplish  a  great  and 
extraordinary  work,  and  those  who  are  most  successfid  in  it  ascribing 
their  success  to  a  particular  cause,  would  it  not  be  presumption  in  us, 
who  know  nothing  of  the  matter,  to  doubt  their  testimony  ?  If  success 
were  to  be  considered  a  test  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  effect  has 
been  produced,  in  what  other  instances  are  persons  who  are  mere 
spectators,  who  have  taken  no  care  to  collect  information  on  the  sub- 
ject, held  to  be  better  judges  than  those  who  have  "  borne  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,"  and  have  had,  in  proportion  to  their  success,  the 
deepest  consciousness  that  they  were  nothing, — that  they  merely 
"planted  and  watered,  but  that  it  was  God  who  gave  the  increase?" 

Those  who  do  not  believe  there  is  any  agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God, 
are  so  conscious  that  nothing  else  can  produce  the  desired  eflect,  that 
they  do  not  venture  into  the  field;  but,  while  they  despair  of  the  con- 
version of  men,  deal  out  scorn  upon  such  as  are  engaged  in  the  work. 
They  are  chiefly  those  who  either  dispute  against,  or  practically  trifle 
with,  the  agency  of  the  Spirit ;  who  are  conscious  they  have  no  ad- 
equate power ;  and  yet,  while  they  feel  this,  pity,  or  aflect  to  pity,  the 
persons  who  depend  on  resources  with  which  they  are  unacquainted, 
and  whose  value,  therefore,  they  are  unable  to  estimate.  This  is  a 
plain  matter  of  fact. 

There  is  a  class  of  professed  Christians  in  this  country  (I  would 
not  use  any  invidious  terms)  who  formally  deny  the  great  doctrine  of 
the  influence  of  the  Spirit ;  and  with  regard  to  that  denomination  gen- 
erally, containing  many  men  of  great  talents  and  high  respectability, 
what  has  been  their  conduct — what  the  sentiments  they  have  evinced  ? 
A  complete  hopelessness  of  the  least  success,  and  a  corresponding 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  405 

inactivity  in  calling  on  the  idolater  to  abandon  his  idols,  and  wait  for  the 
Son  of  God  from  heaven.  Look  at  those  classes  of  Christians  who 
are  disposed  to  feel  the  greatest  distrust  of  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen.  Is  not  that  distrust  founded  on  a  real  disbeUef  of  the  agency 
of  the  Spirit  ?  Hence  they  satisfy  themselves  with  caviUing  at  the 
supposed  insufficiency  of  the  instruments  employed,  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  those  persons  are  the  agents  ;  while  they  themselves  feel  that 
they  are  no  more  than  the  pencil  by  which  the  Lord  engraved  the  pre- 
cepts on  "the  tables  of  stone,"  and  that  they  are  that  by  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  writes  it  "  upon  the  fleshly  tables  of  the  heart."  Look, 
on  the  other  hand,  at  the  history  of  those  who  have  been  the  most  suc- 
cessful missionaries  to  the  heathen,  and  see  whether  you  cannot  trace 
certain  results  for  which  you  cannot  account  on  any  other  hypothesis 
than  that  most  momentous  one  of  a  Divine  influence,  at  certain  periods, 
accompanying  their  labours.  In  the  history  of  Brainerd  and  Eliot,  and 
others,  you  perceive  that  for  a  considerable  time  there  seem  to  have 
been  the  same  efforts  employed,  the  same  doctrines  taught,  the  same 
earnest  and  zealous  prayers,  and  the  same  watchfulness  over  their  own 
hearts,  and  yet  no  saving  efl'ect  produced  on  others  :  all  still  remained 
barren ;  no  desirable  movement  of  the  heart  was  excited  ;  and  this 
continued  for  a  long  period.  Such  was  the  state  of  things  when 
Brainerd  first  undertook  the  mission  to  the  Indians  ;  but,  after  a  con- 
siderable time,  Avhile  he  was  propounding  only  the  same  doctrines,  and 
using  only  the  same  means,  the  Spirit  of  God  appeared  to  put  forth  its 
energy,  and  Divine  communication  was  imparted;  atone  season  "  like 
a  rushing,  mighty  wind,"  at  others  "like  the  dew  and  rain  from 
heaven,"  softening,  and  thus  opening  the  heart  which  had  resisted  the 
entrance  of  sacred  truth,  and  causing  the  tear  of  genuine  penitence  to 
steal  down  the  cheek.  Nobody  could  doubt  that  there  was  some  one 
greater  than  a  missionary  there, — that  the  Spirit  of  God  had  changed 
the  barren  soil  to  sacred  ground,  and  had  wetted  it,  "  like  Gideon's 
fleece,  with  the  dews  from  heaven."  And  so  it  is,  my  brethren,  that 
every  person  who  has  had  any  long  acquaintance  with  the  Christian 
ministry  is  aware  that  there  are  certain  periods  of  barrenness,  and 
certain  periods  for  bearing  fruit.  The  same  talents,  whether  great  or 
small,  may  be  brought  into  action  ;  but  there  shall  be  some  seasons  in 
which  no  good  shall  be  done,  and  others  in  which  similar  efforts  shall 
be  crowned  with  extraordinary  success. 

There  are  two  reasons  why  we  are  in  danger,  even  if  we  believe 
this  doctrine,  of  losing  sight  of  its  true  bearing  and  importance. 

In  the  first  place,  one  reason  why  it  is  difficult  to  depend,  as  we 
ought,  on  the  agency  of  the  Spirit,  and  yet  continue  active,  is,  that  it  is 
not  matter  of  consultation,  and  that  it  cannot  immediately  and  directly 
enter  into  the  regulation  of  the  choice  of  expedients,  or  the  adoption 
of  measures.  It  is  altogether  an  aflfair,  a  secret,  of  the  Divine  Being : 
it  cannot  in  any  degree  be  subjected  to  our  control,  and  therefore  it 
cannot  be  the  subject  of  our  counsel.  We  are  called  upon  to  exert 
ourselves  as  much  in  the  same  way,  to  employ  the  same  sort  of  instru- 
mentality, to  set  on  foot  the  same  means,  as  though  there  were  no  such 


406  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

doctrine  existing  in  our  creed,  and  no  such  expectation  existing  in  our 
minds.  The  consequence  is,  we  are  very  apt  to  lose  sight,  even  while 
strenuously  attending  to  our  duty,  in  some  measure,  of  that  mysterious 
and  Divine  agency  on  which  the  success  of  all  our  efforts  must  depend. 
The  most  busy  husbandman  is  not  always  the  one  who  sees  most 
clearly  his  dependence  on  the  sun  or  the  rain :  and  while  good  men 
may  be  exerting  their  utmost  prudence,  and  their  utmost  zeal  for  the 
diffusion  of  Christianity  among  the  heathen,  they  are  in  great  danger 
of  losino-  sight  of  their  dependence  on  the  invisible  agency  of  the  Divine 
Spirit,  in  directing  their  attention  exclusively  to  the  apparatus  they  are 
setting  in  motion. 

Another  reason  probably  is,  that  this  is  an  invisible  power  ;  whereas 
our  own  actions  and  plans  are  objects  of  distinct  observation.  The 
energy  of  the  Divine  Spirit  is  to  be  seen  only  in  its  effects.  It  is  a 
mysterious,  hidden  agency  ;  whereas  the  plans  we  form  furnish  objects 
of  sensation  and  observation :  and  such  is  the  miserable  littleness  of 
the  human  mind,  after  all,  that  we  are  more  struck  with  "  sparks  of 
our  own  kindling,"  than  with  the  light  of  heaven  ;  more  occupied  in 
looking  at  the  instrumentality,  than  in  impressing  upon  our  minds  the 
mysterious  and  potent  energy,  of  the  Almighty.  It  is  one  thing  to 
believe  that  there  is  an  agency  of  the  Spirit,  and  gifts  and  graces  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  to  render  Christianity  beneficial  to  men ;  and  quite 
another  thing  to  have  a  deep  and  practical  persuasion  of  it,  and  to 
regulate  all  our  feelings  and  expectations  on  the  momentous  subject 
of  converting  the  world,  by  a  continual  reference  to  this  most  interest- 
ing truth. 

Here,  then,  permh  me,  for  a  few  moments,  to  point  out  what  appears 
to  be  the  proper  practical  improvement  of  the  truth,  that  tlie  success 
of  missions  depends  on  the  agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  If  this  be  a 
fact,  my  brethren,  it  necessarily  teaches  us  our  entire  dependence  on 
Ood,  and,  consequently,  it  ought  to  engage  us  to  attempt  the  work  of 
evangelizing  the  heathen,  with  the  greatest  humility,  and  the  most 
profound  annihilation  of  self;  with  a  perfect  renunciation  of  our  own 
strength  and  of  our  own  resources.  These  are  absolute  prerequisites 
to  a  true  dependence  on  God.  While  we  use  our  own  resources,  we 
must,  in  a  measure,  distrust  them,  and  pray  to  God  that  we  may  use 
them  aright.  We  can  do  nothing  towards  putting  in  motion  the  only 
agency  from  which  any  permanent  result  of  the  right  kind  can  flow. 
I  say,  nothing,  absolutely  nothing  :  and  yet  we  must  exert  our  instru- 
mentality ;  for  mere  instruments  are  nothing  apart  from  the  Divine 
agency  included  in  the  promise.  Separate  from  the  hand  which  wields 
us, — from  the  volition  of  the  Divine  Being, — and  from  the  agency  of 
that  Spirit  which  is  included  in  this  promise, — we  are,  I  repeat  it, 
absolutely  nothing.  Any  false  contidence,  tlierefore,  such  as  suggests 
itself  probably  to  men  who  have  been  teachers  of  otlier  sciences, — 
any  of  that  elation  of  mind,  or  confidence  in  our  own  strength,  which 
has  given,  perhaps,  nerve  and  elevation  to  human  courage, — is  out  of 
place  here.  The  apostle  was  the  greatest  of  all  men  in  this  matter : 
but  haw  was  he  affected  1     He  tells  the  Corinthians  that  he  was  with 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  407 

them  "  in  weakness,  and  in  fear,  and  in  much  trembhng ;"  his  work 
was  watered  with  tears  and  with  prayers  ;  he  felt  himself  a  worm  in 
the  presence  of  the  great  Agent :  and  hence  it  was  that  he  was 
enabled  to  "  thrash  mountains."  There  was  always  in  his  mind  a 
deep  sentiment  of  humility,  and  a  powerful  conviction  of  tho  presence 
of  the  Divine  Being. 

The  rain  is  not  more  necessary  to  raise  the  seed,  the  sun  is  not 
more  necessary  to  bring  it  to  maturity,  than  this  work  of  the  Spirit. 
Hence,  I  would  observe,  prayer  appears  to  be  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance in  connexion  with  every  attempt  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen 
nations.  Prayer  appears,  indeed,  to  be  the  appropriate  duty  of  such 
as  desire  their  conversion  :  prayer  in  the  closet ;  prayer  on  those 
seasons  on  which  they  are  consulting  as  to  their  plans  of  operation. 
It  was  while  the  church  at  Antioch  were  waiting  on  the  Lord,  and 
fasting,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  said,  "  Separate  to  me  Barnabas  and 
Saul  for  the  work  whereunto  I  have  called  them."  It  was  by  prayer 
they  were  commended  to  the  work  for  which  they  were  designed.  If 
the  Spirit  descended  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  it  was  when  they  were 
"all  with  one  accord  in  one  place."  It  appears  that,  in  every  period 
of  the  world,  prayer,  a  spirit  of  prayer  for  this  great  object,  has  been 
the  precursor  of  real  success.  More  than  sixty  years  ago,  as  several 
of  you  are,  I  doubt  not,  aware,  a  union  among  real  Christians  for  ex- 
traordinary prayer  began  to  manifest  itself.  It  first  appeared  in 
America,  and  was  most  warmly  recommended  by  President  Edwards  : 
thence  it  was  transferred  to  Scotland,  by  the  instrumentality  of  the 
venerable  Dr.  Erskine  ;  and  from  thence  into  England,  by  our  valuable 
friend  Dr.  Ryland,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Baptist  mission ;  and 
the  excellent  practice  was  soon  adopted  by  pious  men  of  other  per- 
suasions. Never  is  a  mission  more  likely  to  prosper  than  when  it  is 
begun  in  the  spirit  of  ardent  prayer  and  supplication.  And  if  ever 
this  spirit  departs  from  us,  "  the  glory  is  departed"  from  this  mission : 
if  ever  we  cease  to  mingle  the  spirit  of  devotion  with  these  services, 
we  may  succeed  in  outward  means,  we  may  multiply  and  extend  them, 
but  we  shall  never  see  the  conversion  of  the  heathen.  Prayer  touches 
the  only  spring  that  can  possibly  ensure  success.  By  speaking  we 
move  man ;  but  by  prayer  we  move  God.  It  is  through  the  medium 
of  prayer  that  the  littleness  and  meanness  of  man  prevail  with 
Omnipotence.  "  The  prayer  of  faith"  is  the  only  power  in  the  uni- 
verse to  which  the  great  Jehovah  yields  :  he  looks  upon  every  other 
power  as  more  or  less  opposed  to  him ;  but  he  looks  upon  this  as  a 
confession  of  man's  dependence,  as  an  appropriate  homage  to  his 
greatness,  as  an  attraction  which  brings  down  his  divine  agency  to  the 
earth. 

Here  every  one  may  assist  missions :  and  every  tear  in  the  closet, 
every  pang  in  the  heart  over  the  miseries  of  those  who  are  dead  in 
their  sins,  every  prayer  lifted  up  in  that  retirement  where  no  eye  sees 
but  the  eye  of  Him  "  which  seeth  in  secret,"  affords  a  most  important 
benefit.  These  are  the  elements  of  success  ;  these  the  pledges  of 
final  triumph.     You  know  it  has  been  customary  for  a  considerable 


408  THE   SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

time  for  a  special  season  of  prayer  to  be  set  apart  in  our  society,  and 
among  Christians  of  other  denominations,  for  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen.  On  the  fervour  of  these  supplications,  through  the  inter- 
cession of  the  great  Mediator,  will,  1  have  no  doubt,  depend  the  final 
realization  of  our  hopes  in  the  conversion  of  the  nations  to  the  faith 
of  Christ. 

It  necessarily  results  from  the  doctrine  of  the  text,  that  we  ought  to 
be  exceedingly  careful  not  to  "  grieve  the  Spirit  of  God."  He  is  the 
great  Agent ;  and  we  must  expect  to  succeed  in  proportion  only  as  we 
shall  gratify  that  Holy  Spirit.  You  know  the  tempers  which  grieve 
that  Spirit;  you  know  that  "  all  malice,  and  all  guile,  and  hypocrisies, 
and  envyings,  and  evil  speaking,  and  bitterness,  and  wrath,  and  anger, 
and  clamour,"  are  directly  opposed  to  His  nature, — that  they  are  an 
element  in  which  He  never  moves  ;  but  that  meekness,  and  gentle- 
ness, and  forgiveness  of  injuries,  and  love,  and  joy,  and  peace,  and 
long-suffering,  and  goodness,  and  faith,  and  temj)erance, — that  the 
lamb-like  virtues  of  Jesus  Christ  are  those  in  which  He  delights. 
You  know  the  graces  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  he  imparted  to  Jesus 
Christ,  are  still  the  object  of  his  predilection,  and  thai  lie  cannot  dwell 
among  us  any  further  than  he  nourishes  those  dispositions  in  us  ;  that 
He  who  first  gave  the  Spirit  still  gives  the  same  Spirit  and  no  other 
Spirit ;  and  we  can  expect  no  triumphant  success  of  his  gospel,  or  his 
kingdom,  but  in  proportion  as  we  are  "  anointed  by  the  Spirit :"  for, 
as  "  the  oil  ran  down  to  the  skirts  of  Aaron's  garment,"  so  his  holy 
influences  anoint  the  heart  of  every  true  disciple.  Let  us  take  care, 
then,  that  in  the  management  of  this  mission  there  be  nothing  in  our 
conduct  or  temper  opposed  to  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  Chris- 
tian dispensation.  Let  us  take  care,  as  individuals  and  as  chin-ches, 
that  we  walk  in  the  fear  of  tlie  Lord ;  and  that  we  look  thus  to  have 
the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  be  edified  and  multiplied. 

There  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  a  more  important  maxim  than 
that  contained  in  Luke  xvii.  20, — "  The  kingdom  of  God  cometh  not 
with  observation ;"  or,  as  Doctor  Campbell  renders  it,  "  is  not  ushered 
in  ivith  po?np  and  parade."  If  this  mission  is  made  the  instrument  of 
ostentation  and  gratification,  or  of  amusing  the  public  by  a  display 
of  gaudy  elo(iuence, — if  it  is  conducted  on  such  a  plan  as  comports 
rather  with  the  maxims  of  this  world  than  with  "  the  mind  of  Christ," 
— the  usefulness  of  the  society  is  in  that  measure  destroyed.  If 
it  is  conducted  without  prayer,  which  I  am  sorry  to  say  has  not 
always  been  sufficiently  regarded,  nothing  can  be  more  calculated  to 
"  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit."  My  brethren,  if  we  look  at  the  manner  in 
which  those  missions  were  first  conducted  which  converted  the  whole 
world,  we  sliall  find  that  they  were  desthute  of  all  human  parade,  and 
were  conducted  with  extraordinary  simplicity.  It  was  while  the  church 
ministered  and  fasted  that  they  were  directed  "  to  send  forth  Barnabas 
and  Saul  for  the  work  whercunto  they  had  been  called."  There  were 
no  places  sought  out  as  places  of  theatrical  resort :  such  things  were 
not  thought  of  at  that  time  ;  nor  could  they  be  thought  of  by  tliose 
who  formed  themselves  solely  upon  the  simplicity  of  the  Scriptures. 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  409 

It  is  not  my  wish  to  give  offence  to  any  persons  by  these  remarks  : 
but  I  could  not  discharge  my  conscience  as  a  minister  of  Christ  without 
making  them  ;  not  at  all  with  a  view  to  censuring  what  has  been  done, 
or  blaming  any  individual  in  the  present  place,  but  of  lilting  up  my 
voice  against  certain  dangers  to  which  the  corruption  of  our  nature  and 
the  state  of  the  world  expose  us. 

All  rivalry,  also,  between  difi'erent  societies  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
moting missions, — all  that  rivalry  which  has  not  for  its  object  and 
design  the  promoting  the  cause,  the  knowledge,  and  the  service  of 
God, — is  offensive  in  his  sight.  Let  us  guard  against  that  vicious 
rivalry  which  shall  induce  the  least  disposition  to  depreciate  or  hide  in 
silence  the  success  of  others ;  which  shall  lead  us  to  look  coolly  on 
the  most  splendid  acts  of  missionary  labour,  unless  they  emanate  from 
ourselves,  or  bring  honour  to  our  party.  All  these  dispositions,  as  far 
as  they  exist  in  any  individual,  dispositions  which  are  "  of  the  flesh, 
and  not  of  the  Spirit,"  are  directly  contrary  to  the  mind  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  blended  a  Paul  and  an  Apollos,  who  blended  the  Jews 
and  the  gentiles — men  of  all  characters — in  one  mass,  and  impressed 
upon  them  all  the  faith  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  immortal  souls. 

It  necessarily  results  from  the  doctrine  of  the  text,  that  all  dependence 
on  any  other  resource  than  that  of  the  communication  of  the  Spirit  will  be 
found  to  be  delusive,  when  the  Divine  Being  shows  us  what  work  is  his 
own.  To  "  put  our  trust  in  an  arm  of  flesh"  is  to  renounce  our  depend- 
ence upon  him.  There  cannot  be  a  double  dependence,  any  more  than 
a  double  adherence.  It  is  true  men  must  be  employed ;  but  the  fact  of 
their  mere  instrumentality  should  never  be  lost  sight  of,  and  their  de- 
pendence on  the  Spirit  of  God  should  be  ever  recognised.  "  The  gold 
is  mine,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  and  the  silver  is  mine."  Let  us  npt  speak 
on  this  all-important  subject  in  such  a  manner  as  to  lead  to  the  idea 
that  the  obtaining  of  money,  and  the  setting  in  motion  a  vast  apparatus, 
is  all  that  is  necessary  to  secure  the  salvation  of  the  heathen.  Any 
language  like  this  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. If  the  Spirit  of  God  be  the  great  agent, — if  it  is  his  work,  and 
his  work  alone,  and  tiie  whole  is  accomplished  by  the  energy  of  that 
mighty  Spirit, — how  can  we  secure  success  by  any  other  agency  1  If 
we  should  depend  on  the  accumulation  of  any  property  far  beyond  our 
present  resources,  and  the  Divine  Being  were  to  withdraw  from  us  his 
sacred  and  enlivening  influences,  he  would  leave  us  in  the  same  situa- 
tion as  he  did  the  Jews  when  he  said,  "  Where  are  thy  gods  that 
thou  hast  made  thee  ?  let  them  arise,  if  they  can  save  thee  in  the  time 
of  thy  trouble."*  They  might  multiply  instruments  and  extend  their 
labour,  but  they  could  not  secure  the  salvation  of  a  single  soul, — they 
could  not  deposite  in  the  heart  a  single  sentence  of  divine  truth, — they 
could  not  form  one  holy  disposition :  but  if  the  Spirit  of  God  be 
"  poured  out  upon  us,"  as  we  have  reason  to  believe  it  will  be  at  some 
time,  every  other  instrument  will  be  subordinated,  and  must  be ;  and 
then  it  will  be  found  that  the  Divine  Being,  when  he  has  poured  out 

*J6r.  u28. 


410  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

his  Spirit,  will  never  suffer  an  adequate  quantity  of  property  to  be 
wanted.  He  who  has  given  the  Spirit  will  never  suffer  his  work  to  be 
stopped  by  the  want  of  the  riches  of  the  earth :  he  will  sooner  turn 
the  very  stones  of  the  street  into  the  precious  metals,  than  suffer  the 
means  to  be  wanted  of  carrying  on  this  work.  My  brethren,  if  we 
can  once  draw  down  the  Spirit  of  God  on  our  churches,  the  rich  will 
contribute  their  property ;  the  pious  will  contribute  their  prayers,  and 
so  much  of  their  property  as  they  can  afford  ;  and  the  leisurely  will 
give  up  their  time.  This  divine  agency,  when  its  effects  are  once 
really  ielt  in  the  heart,  will  enlist  into  the  service  every  power  which 
men  possess,  and  will  compel  it  to  yield  its  quota.  "  Thou  shalt  see, 
and  thine  heart  shall  fear,  and  be  enlarged  ;  because  the  abundance 
of  the  sea  shall  be  converted  unto  thee,  the  forces  of  the  gentiles  shall 
come  unto  thee.  The  multitude  of  camels  shall  cover  thee,  the 
dromedaries  of  Midian  and  Ephah ;  all  they  from  Sheba  shall  come  : 
they  shall  bring  gold  and  incense;  and  they  shall  show  forth  the  praises 
of  the  Lord.  All  the  flocks  of  Kedar  shall  be  gathered  together;  the 
rams  of  Nebaioth  shall  minister  unto  thee :  they  shall  come  up  with 
acceptance  on  mine  altar,  and  I  will  glorify  the  house  of  my  glory." 

Finally,  I  would  just  observe  that  the  doctrine  of  the  text  teaches 
us  to  regulate  our  confidence  with  respect  to  the  success  of  every 
particular  mission,  at  the  same  time  that  it  animates  that  confidence  in 
regard  to  the  final  success  of  the  work  itself.  We  cannot  say  how 
long  the  Spirit  may  be  withheld ;  but  that  it  is  withheld,  that  the  out- 
pouring of  it  has  not  yet  taken  place,  we  have  melancholy  evidence. 
It  is  plain  that  it  has  not  been  vouchsafed  to  this  society,  or  to  any 
other,  to  the  extent  that  we  anticipated,  so  as  to  produce  a  total  trans- 
formation. Great  effect  has  been  experienced  in  the  South  Sea  islands ; 
and  that  appears  to  me  to  approach  the  nearest  of  any  to  what  we  are 
expecting ;  but  even  that,  delightful  as  it  is,  is  on  a  small  scale.  But 
the  general  success  has  not  yet  seemed  proportionvil  to  the  extent  of 
the  means.  "  The  wood  is  prepared  for  the  altar,  but  the  fire  from 
heaven  has  not  descended  upon  the  sacrifice."  The  number  of  mis- 
sionaries is  as  great,  probably,  as  that  employed  at  the  first  promulga- 
tion of  Christianity ;  but  here  is  the  mighty  difference, — the  Spirit  of 
God,  at  that  period,  descended  from  on  high.  "  The  Divine  Being 
bowed  the  heavens  and  came  down,"  and  infused  an  immortal  energy 
into  the  missionaries,  to  which  we  are  strangers  at  the  present  day. 

It  is  proper  to  inquire,  why  is  not  the  Spirit  of  God  poured  down  now? 
— what  is  there  that  has  caused  the  withholding  of  this  Spirit?  We 
may  be  assured  there  is  some  reason.  The  Divine  Being  is  a  sove- 
reign, but  he  is  not  a  capricious  being ;  and  we  ought  to  plead  with 
God,  and  ask  why  it  is  that  he  withholds  from  us  this  Spirit  ?  We 
may  be  assured  the  time  will  arrive  when  deliverance  will  be  wrought 
in  the  earth  ;  but  hitherto  we  have  "  brought  forth  wind," — only  wind. 
He  "  hath  not  wrought  deliverance,"  though  we  know  deliverance  will 
be  wrought.  May  we  not,  in  the  spirit  of  humble  supplication,  ask, 
Why  that  honour  is  reserved  for  other  nations  and  other  times  ? — Why 
we  are  permitted  to  see  only  the  skirt  of  his  garment,  and  not  per- 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  411 

mitted  to  see  his  face  1 — Why  he  holds  back  his  blessings,  and  we 
contemplate  only  a  few  drops  of  that  mighty  influence  of  which  the 
heavens  are  full,  and  which  he  might,  and  doubtless  will,  pour  down 
in  mighty  torrents  ?  My  brethren,  let  the  friends  of  each  society, 
instead  of  being  led  for  a  moment  "  to  sacrifice  to  their  own  net,  and 
burn  incense  to  their  own  drag," — while  they  are  thankful  for  what  has 
been  done, — inquire  why  they  are  not  permitted  to  do  more,  and  why 
the  adamantine  barriers  of  impenitence  and  rejection  are  permitted  to 
oppose  themselves.  Propose  this  question  to  the  philosopher,  and  he 
will  repeat  the  language  of  the  ancient  prophet,  and  say,  "  Hath  a 
nation  changed  its  gods,  which  are  yet  no  gods?"*  We  know,  my 
brethren,  that  no  nation  ever  quitted  its  gods  till  Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world :  we  know  that  no  nation  has  forsaken  actual  idolatry, 
much  less  turned  from  things  present  to  realize  an  immortal  prospect 
— to  fix  its  afli'ections  on  God  as  the  eternal  God,  except  by  the  energy 
of  the  Spirit ;  but  we  are  encouraged  to  expect  the  power  and  grace 
of  God  to  accomplish  these  purposes,  and  we  hear  him  saying  in  his 
Word,  "  The  zeal  of  the  Lord  of  hosts  will  perform  this  :"  and  if  there 
be  something  rendering  us  unworthy  to  be  the  instruments  of  so  great 
and  important  a  change,  let  us  search  it  out,  and  mourn  for  it  before 
God. 

At  the  same  time,  my  brethren,  though  we  are  taught  to  acquiesce 
without  repining,  without  murmuring,  in  the  dispensations  of  God,  let 
us  point  our  views  to  a  future  period,  when  the  Spirit  will  be  poured 
from  on  high, — when  Jesus  Christ  will  pour  out  his  Spirit  upon  all 
flesh, — for  then  "  the  wilderness  shall  become  a  fruitful  field,  and  the 
fruitful  field  be  counted  for  a  forest."  The  Divine  Being  will  not 
frustrate  the  design  his  Spirit  has  excited ;  he  will  not  cause  the  holy 
agitations  which  have  been  felt  to  be  in  vain  ;  he  will  not  suffer  those 
desires  which  have  been  excited  in  the  minds  of  Carey  and  others 
to  evaporate  without  being  in  some  manner  fulfilled.  Great  things 
have  been  effected  by  the  instrumentality  of  those  who  have  gone  before 
us,  and  we  are  now  employed  in  the  same  great  work.  How  many 
thousands  are  pouring  out  their  prayers  and  tears  for  the  spiritual 
conversion  of  the  heathen !  There  has  been  a  spiritual  movement  of 
divine  love  whereby  many  have  been  rendered  willing  to  spend  and  be 
spent,  yea,  to  die  for  the  conversion  of  the  gentile  nations ;  earnestly 
desiring  to  conduct  them  to  the  Saviour,  whom  they  never  saw,  but  "  in 
whom  they  believed,  and  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable."  But  when 
this  Spirit  has  come  from  on  high,  we  shall  witness  a  different  scene, 
going  far  beyond  the  desire  and  the  effort :  then  it  will  be  a  most  glo- 
rious era :  we  shall  see  nations  casting  off"  their  idols,  returning  to 
God,  "  asking  the  way  to  Zion,  with  their  faces  thitherward ;"  then 
will  be  again  "  heard  on  the  high  places  weeping  and  supplication, 
because  they  have  perverted  their  way,  and  forgotten  the  Lord  their 
God :"  then  there  will  be  heard,  not  the  cry  of  the  wounded,  nor  the 
lamentation  of  the  orphan  and  the  fatherless  over  parents  slain  in 
battle,  but  sorrow  of  a  more  sacred  nature ;  a  new  burthen  pressing 

*  Jer.  ii.  11. 


412  THE  SUCCESS  OF  MISSIONS 

on  the  heart — the  burthen  of  sin.  They  will  look  back  on  the  scenes 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  at  the  cross,  and  feel 
as  much  oppressed  as  if  they  had  heard  his  groans  and  his  prayers ; 
they  will  then  believe  the  simple  sayings  of  God  ;  "  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come,"  the  greatness  of  eternity,  will  occupy  their  attention  ; 
they  will  then  look,  "  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen  and  temporal," 
but  at  the  sublime  and  glorious  "things  which  are  eternal;"  the  dis- 
tance between  that  period  and  the  judgment-day  will,  in  thought,  be 
annihilated  ;  they  will  feel  themselves  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the 
infinite  and  everlasting  mansion,  and  their  whole  souls  will  be  absorbed 
in  the  nothingness  of  time,  the  grandeur  of  eternity,  the  awful  hurtful- 
ness  of  sin,  and  the  infinite  importance  of  the  great  salvation.  Those 
things  which  we  speak  of  with  freezing  accents  and  cold  hearts  will 
then  be  felt  in  the  inmost  soul ;  conviction  will  seize  upon  the  trans- 
gressors, while  others  will  be  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  and  it  will  be  as  it 
was  in  the  time  of  the  building  of  the  second  temple ;  "  the  voice  of 
shouting,  and  the  sound  of  weeping,"  will  be  mingled  together,  as  in 
the  time  of  Ezra.  While  troops  of  pilgrims  will  be  pressing  towards 
the  celestial  city,  many  millions  of  prodigals  will  return  to  their  Fa- 
ther's house,  and  will  lift  up  their  eyes  to  tlie  Saviour  who  died  for 
their  sin.  These  things  must  take  place, — they  did  take  place  at  the 
first  preaching  of  the  gospel.  By  some,  such  occurrences  would  be 
regarded  as  disorderly.  God  be  praised,  there  were  such  disorders  as 
these,  and  well  would  it  be  for  us  were  our  religious  assemblies  fre- 
quently interrupted  by  such  disorders.  The  time  will  come,  assuredly, 
when  "  the  Sj)irit  will  be  poured  from  on  high  ;"  and  who  knows  what 
will  be  the  effect  when  the  Divine  Being  applies  the  truths  of  his  Word 
to  the  consciences  of  his  creatures.  Then  will  "  the  wilderness  be- 
come a  fruitful  field,  and  the  fruitful  field  be  counted  for  a  forest :"  then, 
my  brethren,  all  the  powers  of  nature,  all  the  resources  of  providence, 
all  the  advantages  that  are  possessed  by  men  in  every  variety  and 
state,  will  jointly  contribute  to  aid  the  general  triumph.  "  The  multi- 
tude of  camels  shall  come  up ;  the  dromedaries  of  Midian  and  Ephah  : 
all  they  from  Sheba  shall  come ;  they  shall  bring  gold  and  incense, 
and  they  shall  show  forth  the  praises  of  the  Lord."  Kings  shall  offer 
their  gifts,  and  the  majesty  of  all  earthly  sovereigns  will  bow  to  the 
majesty  of  the  Saviour.  All  the  spoils  of  earthly  grandeur  will  be 
laid  at  his  feet,  and  none  will  be  "  exalted  in  that  day,"  but  the  Lord 
and  his  Messiah.  This,  next  to  our  own  salvation,  is  the  only  proper 
object  of  our  solicitude  :  if  we  can  but  attain  this, — if  we  can  but  wit- 
ness this, — every  thing  else  will  follow :  this  touches  the  source  and 
author  of  all  motion ;  and  in  proportion  as  we  can  engage  the  Divine 
Spirit  on  our  side,  in  that  proportion  will  Omnipotence  be  exerted,  and 
who  can  stay  his  hand  ? 

There  are  some  who  do  not  expect  these  scenes  to  be  realized  ;  but 
we  say  to  them,  "  Ye  do  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  nor  the  power 
of  God."*  Before  him  all  difilculties  vanish  ;  u  is  only  the  exertion 
of  the  same  sort  of  power  as  every  sincere  Christian  has  witnessed, — 

*  Matt.  sxii.  29. 


DEPENDS  UPON  THE  SPIRIT.  413 

the  power  of  which  he  is  himself  the  subject ;  and  what  reason  can  he 
assign  why  he  should  have  been  touched  by  the  Divine  Spirit, — "  made 
willing  in  the  day  of  his  power," — and  the  same  power  not  be  ren- 
dered eflectual  in  the  breasts  of  others  ?  The  same  influence  which 
was  extended  to  a  Paul  will  effect  the  renovation  of  the  world.  No 
new  power  is  requisite :  it  is  the  same ;  even  that,  without  which  we 
might  "  preach  in  vain,"  and  you  "  hear  in  vain ;"  it  need  only  to  be 
poured  from  on  high,  and  then  "  the  wilderness  will  become  a  fruitful 
field,  and  the  fruitful  field  be  counted  for  a  forest."  Let  us,  then,  in 
our  prayers,  especially  and  earnestly  entreat  this  Divine  communication. 
Never  let  us  pray  for  the  Baptist  mission,  or  any  other,  without  recog- 
nising distinctly  in  our  prayers  our  dependence  on  the  Divine  agency; 
never  let  us  for  a  moment  lose  sight  of  this,  but  direct  our  attention  to 
it  as  the  main  object  of  expectation  and  hope, — regarding  it  as  indeed 
the  work  of  God.  It  is  his  special  prerogative  to  renew  the  heart  of 
man,  and  to  build  up  from  the  ruins  of  the  fall  a  temple  to  his  praise  ; 
and  when  this  is  accomplished,  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  will 
flow  into  it," — the  nations  that  are  saved  will  walk  in  the  light  of  it : 
and  how  can  we,  who  consider  ourselves  "  the  temple  of  the  Half 
Ghost,"  be  better  employed  than  in  imploring  him  to  "  send  forth  his 
light,  and  his  truth?"  Let  us  address  him  in  the  language  of  the 
church  :  "  Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord  ;  awake, 
as  in  the  ancient  days,  in  the  generations  of  old.  Art  thou  not  it  that 
hath  cut  Rahab  and  wounded  the  dragon?"  "  Where  is  thy  strength, 
the  sounding  of  thy  bowels  and  of  thy  mercies  ?"*  The  church  of 
God  is  now  praying  to  this  effect,  and  the  best  pledge  of  the  final  tri- 
umphs of  Christianity  results  from  the  combined  influence  of  prayer 
and  active  exertion  in  a  spirit  of  dependence.  Our  earnest  desire  that 
the  heathen  should  be  converted,  and  that  Christianity  should  be  pub- 
lished and  received  among  all  nations,  may  be  regarded,  we  hope,  as 
the  earnest  and  fruit  of  that  Divine  Spirit  whose  more  copious  effusion 
will  accomplish  the  work.  Let  us  welcome  the  rising  beam,  "  the  day- 
star"  that  ushers  in  the  morning  of  a  brighter  day  than  has  ever 
yet  shone  upon  the  earth.  Let  us  fervently  pray  that  the  Divine 
Spirit  may  be  poured  out  upon  the  world,  and  that  the  Redeemer  may 
"  take  to  him  his  great  power,  and  reign"  universally  in  the  hearts  of 
men. 

*  Isaiah  li.  9;  txiii.  15. 


414  THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 


XL 

THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES.* 

Matthew  xvi.  1-3. —  The  Pharisees  also  with  the  Sadducees  came, 
and  tempting  him  desired  that  he  would  shew  thein  a  sign  from 
heaven.  He  answered  and  said  unto  them,  When  it  is  evening,  ye 
say.  It  will  be  fair  weather ;  for  the  sky  is  red :  And  in  the  morning. 
It  will  be  foul  weather  to-day  ;  for  the  sky  is  red  and  loioering.  O 
ye  hypocrites  !  ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the  sky ;  but  can  ye  not  dis- 
cern the  signs  of  the  times  1 

[preached    at    BRISTOL,    FOR    THE    NATIONAL    SCHOOLS,  NOVEMBER    28,    1820.] 

So  violent  were  the  prejudices  excited  by  our  Saviour's  preaching, 
that  those  who  could  agree  in  nothing  besides  agreed  in  the  attempt 
10  discredit  his  authority,  and  destroy  the  effects  of  his  ministry.  An 
instance  of  this  is  presented  in  the  words  just  read,  in  which  we  find 
the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  forgetting  their  mutual  antipathy  in  their 
common  hostility  to  the  pretensions  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  Pharisees, 
as  you  are  aware,  were  a  sect  among  the  Jews,  who  had  multiplied 
to  an  enormous  extent  their  additions  to  the  law  of  Moses ;  which, 
together  with  the  other  parts  of  the  Old  Testament,  they  received  as 
inspired.  The  Sadducees,  a  sort  of  religious  skeptics,  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  confined  their  belief  to  the  missions  and  writings  of 
Moses,  rejected  the  doctrines  which  connect  us  with  a  future  world  ; 
the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  the  existence  of  spirits.  These  two 
parties,  at  variance  on  all  other  occasions,  concurred  on  this ;  and 
both,  "  tempting"  our  Lord  in  the  hope  of  ruining  his  reputation,  "  de- 
sired that  he  would  shew  them  a  sign  from  heaven ;"  an  indication 
that  he  was  the  Messiah,  yet  more  miraculous  and  convincing,  accord- 
ing to  their  idea,  than  any  he  had  before  exhibited.  By  this  "  sign 
from  heaven,"  they  probably  meant  some  direct  manifestation  of  the 
Divine  glory,  without  that  intervention  of  second  causes  which  seems 
to  have  impaired  in  their  minds  the  impression  of  the  miracles  they 
had  witnessed.  They  imagined  that  an  immediate  vision  of  the  Divine 
Majesty  would  afford  an  evidence  of  his  being  the  Messiah,  more 
unequivocal  and  satisfactory  than  could  be  afforded  by  any  perform- 
ances however  supernatural.  Such  a  notion  was  delusive,  and  arose 
entirely  from  the  depraved  and  obdurate  state  of  their  minds.  When 
we  find  those  who  are  already  in  possession  of  sufficient  evidence 
yet  demanding  more  than  is  given,  we  may  be  sure  that,  in  such  cases, 
no  evidence  would  be  sufficient.  Accordingly,  it  is  not  the  practice 
of  the  Divine  government  to  comply  Avith  such  unreasonable  desires : 

*  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield. 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES.  4ig 

but,  while  he  that  hath,  or  thai  improves  his  present  advantages,  shall 
receive  abundantly  more :  from  him  that  hath  not,  or  that  uses  not  what 
he  has,  even  that  which  he  hath  shall  be  taken  away. 

From  the  suggestion  of  the  words  first  read,  I  propose  to  consider 
some  of  the  most  obvious  and  palpable  signs  which  the  present  age 
exhibits  of  the  advancement  of  our  Saviour's  kingdom ;  and  I  shall 
take  occasion  to  remark  previously,  that  it  is  an  important  part  of 
wisdom, — a  duty  which  as  Christians  we  ought  not  to  neglect, — to 
discern  the  signs,  to  watch  the  moral  aspect  of  the  times  in  which  we 
live.  We  are  not,  indeed,  called  or  qualified  to  penetrate  into  futurity  ; 
but  we  may  study  with  advantage  that  portion  of  providence  in  rela- 
tion to  the  church  and  the  world  with  which  we  are  most  nearly 
connected. 

Of  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  this  study,  the  first  is,  that  we 
shall  thus  learn  more  of  the  intentions  and  character  of  the  Divine 
Being.  The  providence  of  God  is  the  execution  and  development 
of  his  mind.  In  observing  the  course  of  providence,  we  see  the  opera- 
tions of  his  hand,  and  read  his  will  as  truly  in  its  fulfilment  as  in  his 
written  revelation.  Again :  our  devotion  should  be  modified,  to  a 
certain  extent,  by  the  signs  of  the  times.  In  our  prayers,  we  may 
derive  encouragement  from  these  to  plead  with  God  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  own  gracious  designs  and  promises  :  we  may  adapt 
our  humiliation  to  the  demand  of  the  season ;  acknowledge  the  hand 
that  wards  off  impending  evils  or  crowns  us  with  signal  favours ;  and 
be  reminded  what  benefits  we  may  appropriately  implore.  And,  once 
more  :  such  a  habit  of  advertence  to  the  prominent  features  of  the 
age  may  be  useful  in  the  regulation  of  our  active  duties.  In  our 
exertions  to  promote  the  good  of  mankind  and  the  glory  of  God,  we 
are  not  merely  to  regard  his  general  will  as  applicable  to  all  times 
alike ;  we  are  to  inquire,  also,  his  particular  design  in  reference  to  the 
existing  state  of  things, — to  study  what  he  would  have  us  do  at  such 
a  particular  crisis.  Does  He  appear,  for  instance,  by  various  concur- 
ring events,  to  be  preparing  for  the  more  extensive  and  rapid  diffusion 
of  the  gospel  ?  Then  it  becomes  our  appropriate  duty  to  provide 
whatever  means  seem  the  best  adapted  to  promote  that  transcendent 
object.  Some  persons,  who  are  sufficiently  attentive  to  the  more 
private  details  of  Christian  duty,  take  but  little  interest  in  the  fortunes 
of  the  universal  church  :  a  failure  which,  in  such  cases,  arises  princi- 
pally from  that  inattention  to  the  signs  of  the  times  reprehended  by 
our  Saviour  in  the  text. 

Having  offered  these  suggestions,  I  shall  now  advert  to  some  plain, 
unequivocal  signs  and  indications  of  the  present  age.  I  call  them 
plain  and  unequivocal,  in  distinction  from  such  as  may  be  thought  of 
an  ambiguous  character.  With  respect  to  some  of  these  signs,  while 
events  are  passing  by  us,  there  may  be  differences  of  sentiment ;  dif- 
ferences which  will  probably  disappear  when  another  generation  shall 
look  back  upon  our  own  times.  In  contemplating  an  object,  we  find 
it  necessary  to  recede  to  a  certain  distance,  in  order  that  we  may  the 
more  comprehensively  survey  what  pressed  too  closely  and  became 


416  THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

too  prominent,  during  our  nearer  approach ;  and  thus  the  present  por- 
tion of  providence  will  be  better  understood,  in  all  its  bearings,  when 
the  events  which  compose  its  principal  features  shall  have  been  for 
some  time  passed.  The  following  remarks,  however,  will  be  confined 
to  the  most  striking  peculiarities  of  the  present  age. 

1.  Of  these,  the  first  I  shall  mention  is,  the  great  increase  of  mental 
exertion.  Some  periods  have  been  marked  by  intellectual  inaction ; 
the  human  mind  has  appeared  as  in  a  state  of  torpor  and  dormancy : 
not  a  luminary  has  broken  the  prevailing  darkness  ;  not  a  distinguished 
name  has  been  left  behind  :  knowledge  has  been  not  merely  stationary, 
it  has  not  merely  not  been  progressive,  it  has  retrograded.  Such  was 
that  period  in  which,  after  the  decline  of  the  Platonic  philosophy, 
Aristotle  reigned  in  all  the  schools,  and  was  idolized  as  the  secretary 
of  nature,  who  dipped  his peji  in  intellect.  From  his  dictates  there  was 
no  appeal ;  and,  what  was  most  remarkable,  his  empire  extended  to 
theology.  As  nothing  can  convey  a  higher  idea  of  the  intellectual 
greatness  of  that  extraordinary  man,  than  the  unrivalled  despotism  he 
then  exercised  over  human  minds,  so  nothing  can  present  a  more 
humihating  picture  of  the  weakness  of  those  minds  than  the  depth  of 
mental  degradation  to  which  they  thus  descended.  The  Reformation 
was  the  great  instrument  in  undermining  and  demolishing  that  long- 
established  system  of  intellectual  despotism  and  degradation.  Under 
the  light  diffused  by  the  Reformers,  men  awoke  from  the  trance  of 
ignorance  and  infatuation  in  which  they  had  slept  for  ages  ;  they  felt 
those  energies  of  thought  and  reason  which  had  been  so  long  disused  ; 
they  began  to  investigate  truth  for  themselves ;  they  started  to  that 
career  of  genius  and  science  which  has  ever  since  been  rapidly 
advancing.  Had  this  been  the  only  benefit  it  produced,  the  Protestant 
Reformation  would  deserve  to  be  numbered  among  the  noblest  achieve- 
ments of  mental  energy :  viewing  it  in  this  light,  even  infidels  have 
applauded  Luther  and  his  associates. 

Since  that  era  the  greatest  advances  have  been  made  in  every 
department  of  science,  physical  and  moral ;  more  especially  during 
the  last  century,  in  which  the  progress  of  knowledge  has  been  more 
rapid  than,  perhaps,  during  any  similar  period  of  human  history.  In 
addition  even  to  the  grand  discoveries  of  Newton,  respecting  the  laws 
of  nature  and  the  system  of  the  universe,  such  a  mass  of  varied 
information  has  been  accumulated,  that  Newton  himself,  could  he 
witness  the  present  state  of  his  own  science,  would  be  astonished  at 
advances  he  never  anticipated.  Every  year,  nay,  almost  every  day 
has  added  something ;  while  the  registers  of  discover}^  have  found  it 
no  easy  task  to  keep  pace  with  the  rapidity  of  its  march.  The 
nomenclature  of  the  preceding  fifty  years  has  been  found  so  inadequate 
to  the  demands  of  the  latter  half-century,  that  it  has  become  entirely 
obsolete  :  and  a  new  nomenclature  may  be  required  by  another  age. 
This  is  remarkably  exemplified  in  the  department  of  chymical  science  : 
nor  has  less  been  accomplished  in  moral  and  political  philosophy. 
The  genius  of  legislation  has  been  greatly  elucidated  within  the 
present  age.     The   principle  of  religious  toleration  and  liberty  of 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES.  417 

conscience,  which  required  for  its  demonstration  the  reasoning  powers 
of  the  immortal  Locke,  is  now  universally  acknowledged.  In  a  word, 
philosophy  has  been  completely  popularized,  and  mingles  with  every 
order  of  society,  from  the  palace  to  the  cottage :  all  approach  its  illu- 
mination, all  participate  in  its  benefits. 

It  is  true  that  we  cannot  boast,  in  these  latter  times,  of  oratory  or 
poetry  equal  to  that  of  Demosthenes  or  of  Milton.  These  arts,  being 
derived  from  nature,  the  natural  emanations  of  enthusiasm  and  fancy, 
are  early  brought  to  perfection  ;  and  are  probably  cultivated  with  less 
advantage  in  a  more  refined  state  of  society.  The  case  is  different 
with  respect  to  the  pursuits  of  science  and  philosophy  :  these  are  per- 
manently and  interminably  progressive :  the  induction  of  facts,  the  in- 
vestigation of  phenomena  and  principles,  are  susceptible  of  perpetual 
advancement:  and  if  it  were  preposterous  to  suppose  that  those  great 
masters  of  poetry  and  eloquence  will  ever  be  superseded,  or  perhaps 
even  equalled,  it  were  not  less  preposterous  to  deny  that  the  present 
amount  of  knowledge, — immense  as  it  now  appears, — may  yet,  to  a 
future  generation,  appear  comparatively  inconsiderable.  Invention  has 
exhausted  its  powers  :  the  stores  of  philosophy  are  inexhaustible.  In 
every  successive  age,  it  must  be  allowed,  the  increase  of  science, 
though  continual,  becomes  less  and  less  observable  :  it  is  during  the 
infancy  of  knowledge  that  its  growth  is  most  apparent  ;  afterward  the 
vast  general  extent  renders  us  less  sensible  of  every  new  accession  ; 
just  as  in  a  large  assemblage  of  buildings,  like  that  which  composes 
your  own  city,  we  are  scarcely  aware  of  its  constant  enlargement ; 
while,  in  a  village,  every  particular  addition  becomes  an  object  of  atten- 
tion. Thus,  less  surprise  is  excited  in  the  present  age  than  would  have 
been  felt  in  any  preceding  period,  by  every  fresh  augmentation  of  our 
intellectual  stores.  It  is  an  age  of  universal  curiosity,  in  which  igno- 
rance is  felt  as  a  calamity.  The  extensive  circulation  of  books,  and 
the  multitude  of  cultivated  minds,  distinguish  this  period  beyond  com- 
parison with  any  that  has  preceded  it.  Never  before  was  that  pro- 
phetic feature  of  the  latter  days  so  strikingly  exhibited — "  Many  shall 
run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased." 

2.  A  second  feature  by  which  the  present  age  is  distinguished  is  an 
increased  attention  to  the  instruction  of  the  lower  classes. 

The  time  has  been  when  the  education  of  youth  in  the  inferior  walks 
of  society  was  entirely  neglected  :  it  is  only  during  a  later  period  that 
the  first  impulse  was  given  to  that  vast  machine  of  universal  instruc- 
tion, which  continues  to  operate  with  increasing  energy.  It  is  painful 
to  reflect  on  the  unnatural  separation,  in  whatever  relates  to  the  mind, 
which  formerly  subsisted  between  the  common  people  and  those  Avho 
fill  the  higher  ranks  of  the  community ;  the  monstrous  chasm  which 
divided  the  gross  barbarism  of  the  former  from  the  superfluous  refine- 
ment of  the  latter.  It  seemed  as  if  an  entire  oblivion  had  taken  place, 
in  reference  to  their  original  fraternal  relation,  as  members  of  one 
family,  children  of  a  common  father.  There  is  little,  it  is  true,  in  pov- 
erty, to  gratify  the  taste  or  the  imagination ;  but  it  is  time,  surely,  to 
lose  sight  of  those  merely  adventitious  accompaniments  which  glitter 

Vol.  III.— D  d 


418  THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

on  the  eye  of  fancy  and  refinement, — time  to  recognise,  in  the  humblest 
portions  of  society,  partakers  of  our  nature,  with  all  its  high  preroga- 
tives and  awful  destinies  :  it  is  time  to  remember  that  our  distinctions 
are  exterior  and  evanescent,  our  resemblance  real  and  permanent;  that 
all  is  transient  but  what  is  moral  and  spiritual ;  that  the  only  graces 
we  can  carry  with  us  into  another  world  are  graces  of  Divine  implanta- 
tion ;  and  that,  amid  the  rude  incrustations  of  poverty  and  ignorance, 
there  lurks  an  imperishable  jewel, — a  principle  transcending  in  its 
value  the  whole  material  creation, — a  soul,  susceptible  of  the  highest 
spiritual  beauty,  destined,  perhaps,  to  adorn  the  celestial  abodes,  and  to 
shine  for  ever  in  the  mediatorial  diadem  of  the  Son  of  God  !  Take 
heed  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones. 

Among  the  instances  of  an  increased  attention  to  the  welfare  of  the 
lower  classes  may  be  numbered  those  improvements  in  the  penal  code 
of  our  laws,  which  have  been  proposed  by  a  living  lawyer,*  who 
appears  to  me  at  least  to  have  understood  the  true  nature  of  legal 
justice  much  better  than  it  has  been  comprehended  heretofore.  When 
so  much  light  is  thrown  upon  a  subject, — before  very  imperfectly  inves- 
tigated,— the  most  important  amendments  may  be  anticipated  in  the 
laws,  especially  those  which  affect  the  criminal's  life  ;  and  we  may 
hope  the  lime  is  not  distant  when,  in  conformity  with  the  Divine  stan- 
dard, the  crime  of  murder  shall  be  regarded  as  the  only  proper  subject 
of  capital  punishment. 

In  short,  we  appear  at  length  to  have  become  sensible  that  every 
thing  merits  our  earnest  attention  and  encouragement  which  tends  to 
promote  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  civil  improvement  of  that  vast 
portion  of  the  population  in  which  the  majority  of  numbers  and  physical 
strength  resides,  and  which  virtually  includes  the  destiny  of  the  nation ; 
that  broad  basis  of  the  pyramid  of  society,  which,  while  it  continues 
sound,  affords  stability  to  the  whole,  but  by  a  rent  in  which  the  entire 
fabric  must  be  endangered.  Nothing  in  nature  can  be  conceived  more 
frightful,  nothing  more  fatal  to  the  existence  of  an  empire,  than  an  un- 
principled, protligate,  irreligious,  turbulent  populace ;  quiet  perhaps  at 
the  present  moment,  but  ready  on  the  first  occasion  to  break  out  into 
fury  and  violence.  It  is  a  volcano,  covered  with  a  surface  of  verdure, 
but  prepared  to  scatter  desolation  around  on  the  first  eruption  tliat  may 
disturb  its  fearful  quiescence  ;  it  is  an  edifice  raised  upon  a  mine,  and 
constantly  exposed  to  the  peril  of  an  explosion  from  the  precarious 
ground  and  terrible  materials  beneath !  We  have  witnessed,  in  a 
neighbouring  kingdom,  an  example  of  the  horrors  to  which  a  nation 
may  be  subjected  by  the  unrestrained  depravity  of  an  uninstructed  and 
irreligious  populace — horrors  which  Heaven  avert  from  ourselves ! 
which  exceed  tlie  conception  of  the  most  gigantic  imagination  !  For 
nothing  in  the  most  savage  part  of  the  brute  creation  can  parallel 
ihose  fiery  excesses  of  popular  passion,  which  desolate  whatever  is 
social,  whatever  is  sacred,  in  the  institutions  of  mankind !  But  on 
"the  evils  of  popular  ignorance"  it  is  the  less  necessary  to  enlarge 
here,  as  the  subject  has   been  recently  ilhistrated  by  a  living  writer,! 

♦  Sir  James  Mackiiuosb.  t  Rev.  John  Foster. 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES.  419 

whose   genius   pours  new  light  over  every  topic    that  engages  his 
notice. 

3.  A  third,  and  a  most  favourable  characteristic  of  the  present  times, 
is  the  impiaved  state  of  preaching,  and  the  more  abundant  supply  of 
the  public  means  of  grace.  The  preaching  of  the  gospel  has  been 
appointed  and  acknowledged  by  God  as  the  grand  instrument  of  con- 
verting" sinners  and  saving  souls  :  the  doctrine  of  Christ  crucified  (how- 
ever it  may  be  regarded  by  the  disputers  of  this  world)  has  been 
proved,  in  every  age,  to  be  "  the  power  of  God  to  the  salvation  of 
every  one  that  believes  ;"  to  be  the  weakness  of  God,  which  is  stronger 
than  men  ;  the  foolishness  of  God,  which  is  wiser  than  men.  During 
the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  and  down  to  the  present  time,  there 
has  been  a  manifest  increase  and  improvement  of  Christian  instruction. 
Evangelical  truth  has  been  administered  in  a  purity  and  abundance  to 
which  preceding  ages  bear  no  proportion.  And  here,  in  justice  to  the 
established  clergy  of  the  realm,  1  cannot  but  remark  the  great  advance 
in  piety  and  diligence  which  they  have  exhibited  during  the  last  half-cen- 
tury. They  have  gone  forth  in  numbers,  rekindling  the  lamp  of  heavenly 
truth  where  before  it  had  burned  with  a  dim  and  sickly  ray ;  they  have 
explored  and  cultivated  many  a  neglected  spot,  into  which  other  labourers 
could  not  (for  obvious  reasons)  gain  admission  with  equal  facilities  of 
influence  ;  and  far  be  it  from  any  of  their  dissenting  brethren  to  regard 
their  success  with  any  other  than  -d godly  jealousy,  a  Itoly  emulation  ! 

Turning  from  our  own  country  to  heathen  lands,  we  behold  yet  more 
striking  indications  of  an  improving  age.  The  present  is  the  very  era 
of  missions :  all  the  various  denominations  of  Christians,  as  with  one 
great  simultaneous  impulse,  have  started  up  from  their  long  slumber 
of  missionary  inaction,  awakened  on  a  sudden  to  the  magnitude  and 
obligation  of  this  neglected  enterprise.  There  seems  to  be  a  universal 
feeling  among  Christians  that  the  time  is  come  for  fulfilling  our 
Saviour's  last  comm'di\(\,  going  forth  into  all  the  toorld,  and  teaching  all 
the  nations  ;  and  that,  if  we  should  any  longer  hold  our  peace,  the  very 
stones  in  our  streets  would  cry  out  against  us  !  The  Spirit  of  Christ 
no  longer  contains  itself  within  its  accustomed  bounds  ;  it  breaks  forth 
from  its  undue  confinement,  and  spreads  its  influence  in  every  direction. 
No  part  of  the  earth  so  remote,  so  forsaken,  that  has  not  begun  to  be 
invaded,  that  is  not  at  least  proposed  to  be  attempted  by  some  of  those 
devoted  champions  who  have  gone  forth  in  the  peaceful  warfare  of  the 
gospel.  Nor  are  the  symptoms  of  preparation  less  favourable  among 
the  heathen  themselves :  a  general  spirit  of  readiness  appears  to  be 
presented  in  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  in  the  districts  of  the  Cape,  of 
India,  and  America.  Every  thing  seems  to  announce  that  though  the 
labourers  are  as  yet  but  few,  the  fields  are  already  white  for  the 
approaching  harvest. 

4.  The  advancement  of  the  Bible  as  the  great  and  only  standard  of 
Christian  faith  and  practice  is  a  fourth  remarkable  feature  of  our  times. 
The  Scriptures  have  always  been  professedly  received  as  the  hiohest 
authority  among  Christians  ;  but  never  was  that  authority  so  publicly 
and  completely  recognised  as  in  the  present  age.     The  Church  of 

Dd2 


420  THE  SIGXS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

Rome  early  impaired,  and  at  length  almost  entirely  abolished,  the 
authority  of  the  sacred  volume,  by  her  multiplied  additions  to  its  con- 
tents, as  well  as  by  her  extreme  ignorance  of  its  genuine  instructions. 
Her  priests  were  exalted  from  humble  ministers  of  the  Word  into  arbi- 
trary legislators :  for  he  that  has  the  power  of  annexing  to  the  law 
whatever  interpretation  he  may  please  is  not  an  administrator  of  the 
law,  but  a  tyrant.  As  an  instance  of  the  disuse  and  oblivion  into  which 
the  Scriptures  had  fallen  among  the  Romish  clergy,  it  is  related  of  the 
celebrated  missionary  Xavier,  that  having  met  with  a  copy  of  part  of 
the  New  Testament  before  his  going  out  to  India,  he  resolved  to  take 
it  with  him,  as  he  thought  it  might  be  of  use  in  his  missionary  labours. 
What  a  change  in  the  state  of  the  Christian  world,  with  regard  to  the 
estimation  in  which  the  Scriptures  are  held,  has  taken  place  since  the 
days  of  Xavier !  That  eminent  person — who  possessed,  one  would 
hope,  amid  all  his  errors,  some  real  piety — thought  he  might  as  well 
take  part  of  the  New  Testament  with  him  when  he  went  as  a  mis- 
sionary to  India  ;  he  conceived  it  might  possibly  be  of  some  use  !  The 
Bible  is  now  carried  abroad  in  the  front  of  the  ministry ;  and  the  mis- 
sionary preachers  aim,  as  much  as  possible,  to  lose  themselves  in  the 
effulgence  of  its  heavenly  light.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  the  most 
devoted,  the  most  successful  advocate,  beyond  comparison  with  any 
other,  which  the  Bible  Society  has  yet  found,  is  himself  a  priest  of  the 
Romish  church  ;*  a  man  who  presents  the  extraordinary  phenomenon 
of  a  popish  clergyman  protesting,  in  the  very  bosom  of  his  church, 
against  her  iniquities  ;  and  declaring  his  determination  to  persevere,  in 
spite  of  the  devil  and  the  prophetic  beast,  in  diffusing  those  Scriptures, 
of  which  he  has  already  circulated  several  hundred  thousand  copies. 

Such  exertions,  it  is  reasonable  to  believe,  will  prove  instrumental 
to  the  purifying  of  Christendom  from  papal  corruptions  at  no  very  re- 
mote period.  In  the  event  of  a  persecution  among  the  Romish  clergy 
being  occasioned  by  such  exertions,  a  secession,  similar  to  that  of  the 
Protestant  reformers,  might  probably  once  more  take  place  within  their 
own  body.  God  grant  that  such  may  be  the  issue  !  Would  to  God 
that  the  apocalyptic  warning  might  be  heard  and  obeyed  by  multitudes 
of  that  corrupted  hierarchy,  which  owes  the  perpetuation  of  its  influ- 
"ence  to  the  suppression  of  the  Scriptures  ;  "  Come  out  of  her,  my 
people,  that  ye  be  not  partakers  of  her  sins,  and  receive  not  of  her 
plagues !"  Never  before  was  there  such  a  universal  consent  among 
Christians  as  to  the  supremacy  and  sufficiency  of  the  Bible  in  all 
religious  questions  :  never  before  was  the  maxim  of  (^hillingworth  so 
practically  acknowledged,  that  "  The  Bible,  the  Bible  alone  is  the 
religion  of  Protestants."  In  all  disputed  points,  it  is  now  agreed  that 
we  should  appeal  solely  to  "  the  law  and  the  testimony ;"  and,  where 
these  are  silent,  that  we  should  imitate  their  silence. 

5.  As  a  fiftli  "  sign  of  the  times,"'  may  be  mentioned  that  increasing 
harmony  which  prevails  among  tlie  genuine  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ. 
At  last  the  central  principle  of  union  begins  to  be  extensively  felt  and 
acknowledged  :  amid  all  the  diversities  of  external  discipline  or  sub- 
ordinate opinion,  the  seed  of  God,  the  principle  of  spiritual  and  im- 
*  Leandcr  Van  Ess. 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES.  421 

mortal  life  implanted  in  the  soul,  is  recognised  by  the  sincere  followers 
of  the  Lamb  as  the  transcendent  point  of  mutual  attraction  in  the 
midst  of  minor  differences.  Even  Protestants  and  Catholics,  influ- 
enced by  a  kindred  piety,  can  now  cordially  embrace  each  other ;  as 
in  the  case  of  that  zealous  professor  of  the  Romish  church  to  whom  I 
before  referred,  who  corresponds  in  terms  of  cordial  afi'ection  with  the 
Protestant  secretary  of  the  Bible  Society  for  its  foreign  department. 
The  essential  spirit  of  religion  begins  to  assert  its  ascendency  over 
all  besides.  The  most  enlightened,  the  selectest  Christians  in  every 
denomination  are  ready  to  cultivate  an  intercourse  with  kindred  spirits, 
with  all  who  hold  the  same  essential  principles,  in  any  other.  Formerly, 
such  an  intercourse  was  rarely  indulged,  and  accompanied  with  re- 
serves and  apprehensions  :  good  men  looked  more  at  their  distinctions 
than  their  resemblances,  at  points  of  repulsion  than  those  of  attraction. 
Now  the  case  is  altered  ;  and  it  may  be  truly  said  that,  in  this  respect, 
the  former  tilings  are  passed  away.  Now,  the  saying  of  our  common 
Master  has  received  a  fulfilment  almost  unknown  before:  '■'■  By  this 
shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  even  by  the  love  ye  bear  to 
each  other.'''' 

The  reason  why  Christians  have  been  so  tardy  in  arriving  at  a  dis- 
position so  much  to  be  desired,  is  principally  to  be  found  in  those 
exaggerated  notions  of  the  importance  of  church  government  under 
some  particular  form,  which  so  long  swayed  the  minds  of  excellent 
men :  the  difference  of  outward  garb  concealed  the  unity  of  the  spirit 
which  inwardly  animated  their  hearts  alike.  In  the  ^e^wmcZ  principles 
of  their  religion,  in  their  equal  dependence  on  an  incarnate  Redeemer 
and  a  sanctifying  Spirit,  they  have  now  discovered  a  centre  of  attrac- 
tion,— a  common  chord  to  which  all  their  hearts  vibrate  in  unison : 
and  thus,  without  the  smallest  sacrifice  of  their  respective  sentiments 
or  practices,  they  can  indulge  the  most  entire  afl'ection,  and  exert  the 
most  zealous  co-operation.  Can  it  be  supposed  that  such  an  improve- 
ment will  not  silence  the  old  sarcasm  of  infidels,  derived  from  the 
prevailing  dissensions  of  those  who  professed  themselves  t!ie  disciples 
of  one  Master?  Can  it  be  questioned  whether  the  Christian  army, 
thus  closely  imbodied,  will  prosecute  with  redoubled  vigour  their  war- 
fare against  the  powers  of  darkness  ?  If  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  when 
not  divided  against  itself,  is  able  to  stand,  can  we  doubt  that  the  family 
of  Jesus  Christ,  no  longer  disunited,  will  prosper  in  its  consentaneous 
exertions  ?  Besides  which,  the  unanimity  of  Christians  is  at  once  an 
indication  and  a  presage  of  the  Holy  Spirit's  more  copious  effusion  on 
the  church  ;  at  once  an  effect  and  an  earnest  of  the  love  of  Christ  to 
his  followers ;  while  it  affords  a  delightful  emblem  and  foretaste 
of  that  perfect  state  in  which  all  are  for  ever  united  in  harmony  and 
affection. 

G.  In  the  last  place,  I  cannot  but  number,  among  the  prognostics  of 
the  destined  triumph  of  Christianity,  that  extension  of  civil  and 
religious  liberty  by  which  the  present  times  are  distinguished.  In  this 
view,  I  cannot  but  cordially  rejoice  in  the  political  revolutions  which 
have  recently  taken  place  in  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Naples.  Nothing 
could  be  imagined  more  unfavourable  to  the  cause  of  religion  than  the 


422  THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

prior  condition  of  those  kingdoms,  in  which  a  despotic  tyranny  pre- 
vailed alike  in  the  church  and  the  state.  Such  revolutionary  commo- 
tions among  the  nations  must  be  still  expected,  until  the  arrival  of  that 
haj)pv  period  wlien  liberty,  civil  and  religious,  shall  be  universally 
establislied. 

The  enjoyment  of  civil  liberty  is  essential  to  the  development  and 
exertion  of  the  best  and  noblest  energies  of  the  human  mind.  De- 
prived of  this,  nothing  truly  great  can  flourish  in  the  moral  world. 
There  exists,  indeed,  an  indissoluble  connexion  between  the  civil  and  the 
religious  freedom  of  a  nation  ;  and,  whatever  maj^  be  thought  of  other 
considerations,  every  friend  to  the  prosperity  of  religion  must  rejoice  in 
the  advancement  of  that  liberal  and  enlightened  policy  under  which  alone 
it  is  favoured  and  fostered.  It  is  only  under  a  free  representative  gov- 
ernment that  this  can  be  the  case.  Never  did  religious  liberty  flourish 
in  the  chilling,  deadly  atmosphere  of  despotism  :  it  can  open  and  spread 
only  in  the  sunshine  of  political  freedom.  As  the  greater  includes  the 
less,  the  civil  implies  also  the  religious  liberty  of  a  state.  Religion 
grows  and  blooms  among  the  highest  and  most  palmy  branches  of  the 
tree  of  liberty,  and  ripens  in  luxuriance  among  its  topmost  boughs. 
This  is  the  natural,  established  order  of  things  in  the  present  world  : 
and,  let  it  be  remembered,  we  are  not  entitled  to  expect  any  miracles, 
properly  so  called,  to  facilitate  the  coming  of  our  Saviour's  kingdom. 
In  the  whole  course  of  missionary  enterprise  there  has  not  been  a 
single  check  upon  the  accustomed  laws  of  providence,  not  one  inter- 
ruption of  the  connexion  which  subsists  between  primary  and  secondary 
causes,  not  one  deviation  from  the  ancient  course  of  nature.  It  is  by 
a  favourable  arrangement  of  political  circumstances  that  religion  is 
most  likely  to  be  advanced  ;  by  the  establishment  of  that  genuine  and 
legitimate  freedom,  which  is  equally  removed  from  the  extremes  of 
anarchy  on  the  one  side,  and  tyranny  on  the  other.  It  is  this  that 
seems  to  be  the  precise  temperature,  the  genial  climate  of  religion : 
and  doubtless  God  will  prepare  his  own  way  in  this  as  in  every  other 
respect :  ever7j  valley  shall  be  exalted,  every  mountain  and  hill  brought 
low  ;  the  crooked  rendered  straight,  the  rough  places  plain ;  and  all 
flesh  shall  sec  the  glory  of  the  Lord  ;  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath 
spoken  it. 

In  glancing  at  the  diflTerent  institutions  which  have  arisen  in  these 
later  times  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  benefit  of  mankind,  it  is  pleasing 
and  striking  to  observe  how  exactly  they  have  fitted  in,  and,  as  it  were, 
dove-tailed  with  each  other.  First  appeared  the  missionaries,  as 
pioneers  to  break  up  the  ground  and  open  the  way  ;  then  the  Bible 
Society  followed ;  and,  at  last,  the  system  of  education  completed  the 
design.  Each  arose,  in  its  order,  to  sustain  and  aid  the  others.  Had 
any  one  of  these  existed  alone,  it  would  have  proved  incflicient  for 
want  of  the  rest.  As  it  is,  the  finger  of  Providence  is  discernible  in 
the  very  succession  in  which  tliese  institutions  made  their  appearance; 
while,  in  their  union  and  co-operation,  they  constitute  an  apparatus 
completely  adapted  to  promote  the  Christian  renovation  of  the  world: 
regarded  in  the  order  otw(/'(//Kv,  the  teachers,  the  lesson,  ajid  the  power 
of  reading  it,  appear  well  adapted  to  7nak':  the  man  of  God  perfect  in 


THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE.  423 

every  good  loord  and  loork.  We  speak,  you  will  observe,  of  external 
instrumental  preparations :  there  is  still  needed,  as  you  are  aware, 
another  and  a  higher  preparation  of  the  heart  in  man ;  a  spirit  within 
us  which  must  be  imparted  from  above.  The  machinery  is  provided, 
but  the  Spirit  alone  can  move  the  wheels. 

With  respect  to  the  institution  for  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be  an 
humble  advocate  on  this  occasion,  if  there  be  any  force  in  the  preced- 
ing remarks,  few  words  are  necessary  to  recommend  it  to  your  patron- 
age. As  you  would  live  in  a  land  of  Bibles  and  readers  of  the  Bible, 
in  a  nation  dignified  as  a  seminary  of  religious  instruction  ;  as  you 
would  desire,  when  called  to  quit  the  present  stage  of  being,  to  leave 
your  children  in  a  nation  of  Christians  ;  it  becomes  you,  more  espe- 
cially in  a  season  of  public  alarm,  to  support  an  institution  which  justly 
assumes  the  name  of  national.  If  the  man  who  rescues  from  barren- 
ness a  neglected  portion  of  the  country,  and  spreads  over  its  face  fer- 
tility and  beauty,  deserves  and  obtains  our  praise,  shall  that  society 
solicit  our  support  in  vain  which  rescues  from  all  the  evils  of  ignorance 
multitudes  of  those  in  the  humbler  walks  of  life,  who  might  otherwise 
perish  for  lack  of  knowledge ;  while  it  opens  their  understandings,  at 
least  in  a  degree,  to  understand  the  Scriptures  of  eternal  truth  and 
life  ?  It  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  such  an  institution  is  one  of  the 
great  means  which  the  Divine  Being  employs  for  the  accomplishment 
of  his  own  great  end.  He  does  not  christianize  the  world  by  magic  : 
we  are  not  to  expect  religion  to  descend  from  heaven,  or  to  rise  upon 
the  earth  like  a  beautiful  vision  !  It  will  indeed  descend  from  heaven, 
and  arise  upon  the  earth  ;  but  this  will  be  by  regular,  appointed,  adapted 
means  ;  by  means  such  as  those  which  are  now  set  at  work,  and  require 
our  continued  assistance :  means  which  afford  an  omen  of  the  desired 
success ;  since  we  cannot  conceive  why  all  this  energy  should  have 
been  impressed  on  the  minds  of  men,  if  not  for  the  providential  accom- 
plishment of  one  grand  result — the  transformation  of  the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  into  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ. 


XIL 

THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE.* 


Job  ii.  4. — And  Satan  answered  the  Lord,  and  said,  Skin  for  skin, 
yea,  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life. 

[preached  at  BRISTOL,  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  BAPTIST  MISSIONS,  NOV.   1820.] 

Though  these  words  were  uttered  by  the  father  of  lies,  they  are  no 
lie.  The  truth  of  a  communication  does  not  always  depend  on  the 
character  of  those  who  convey  it. 

*  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield. 


424  THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE. 

The  expression  might  perhaps  be  more  properly  rendered,  "skin  upon 
skin,"  or  "  skin  after  skin :"  skins,  of  which  the  uses  are  not  easily 
enumerated,  being  the  principal  article  of  property  and  exchange  in  a 
primitive  and  pastoral  state  of  society. 

I  propose  briefly  to  consider  the  principle  of  attachment  to  life,  so 
emphatically  asserted  in  these  words  ;  some  of  the  reasons  for  which 
it  is  implanted;  and  some  improvemenis  which  may  be  derived  from 
the  subject. 

I.  The  love  of  life  is  the  simplest  and  strongest  principle  of  nature. 
It  operates  imivcrsally,  on  every  part  of  the  brute  creation,  as  well  as 
on  every  individual  of  the  human  race ;  prrpntnally,  under  all  circum- 
stances, the  most  distressing  as  well  as  the  most  pleasing ;  and  with 
a  poiccr  peculiar  to  itself, — while  it  arms  the  feeble  with  energy,  the 
fearful  with  courage,  whenever  an  occasion  occurs  for  defending  life, 
whenever  the  last  sanctuary  of  nature  is  invaded,  and  its  dearest  trea- 
sure endangered.  This  mysterious  principle  does  not  act  with  a  vari- 
able force,  dependent  on  the  caprices  of  will  or  the  dictates  of  reason  ; 
it  operates  with  a  steady,  constant  influence,  as  a  law  of  nature,  insen- 
sible and  yet  powerful.  It  corresponds,  in  the  animated  world,  with 
the  great  principle  of  gravitation  in  the  material  system,  or  with  the 
centripetal  force,  by  which  the  planets  are  retained  in  their  proper 
orbits,  and  resist  their  opposite  tendency  to  fly  otT  from  the  centre. 
The  most  wretched,  not  less  than  the  most  prosperous, — those  who 
seem  to  possess  nothing  that  can  render  life  desirable,  not  less  than 
those  who  are  surrounded  by  all  its  pleasures, — are  bound  to  life  as 
by  a  principle  of  central  attraction,  which  extends  its  influence  to  the 
last  momeiits  of  expiring  nature.  We  see  men  still  clinging  to  life, 
Avhen  they  have  lost  all  for  which  they  appeared  to  live.  A  striking 
instance  of  this  has  been  recently  exhibited  by  that  extraordinary  indi- 
vidual* who,  raiher  than  lose  his  life  in  the  scenes  of  his  renown,  has 
exchanged  the  pinnacle  of  power  and  fame  for  the  deepest  degradation 
and  obscurity.  There  are  few  qualities  that  command  greater  admi- 
ration than  the  superiority  to  tiie  love  of  life  and  the  dread  of  disso- 
lution :  as  we  admire  things  in  proportion  to  their  diliiculty  and  rarity, 
we  are  astonished  by  that  heroic  bravery  which  can  triumph  over  the 
first  law  of  our  nature.  The  Scriptures  frequently  recognise  and  ap- 
peal to  this  fundamental  principle  :  thus,  in  apparent  allusion  to  the 
text,  our  Saviour  demands,  "  Wliat  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for 
his  soul"  or,  as  the  word  literally  denotes,  his  life /  The  only  promise 
annexed  to  any  of  the  ten  commandments  exhibits  life  as  the  chief 
earthly  good,  and  its  prolongation  as  the  reward  of  filial  piety  :  while, 
in  the  Proverbs,  Wisdom  is  represented  as  having  "  length  of  days  in 
her  right  hand,  in  her  left  riches  and  honour." 

II.  I  proceed  to  assign  the  reasons,  or  some  of  the  reasons,  for 
which  this  instinctive  attachment  to  life  is  so  deeply  implanted  in  our 
nature. 

1.  The  first  and  most  obvious  reason  respects  tlie  preservation  of 

*  Bonaparte. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE.  425 

life  itself.  That  which,  of  all  our  possessions,  is  the  most  easily  lost 
or  injured,  is  that  on  the  continuance  of  which  all  other  things  depend. 
The  preservation  of  life  requires  incessant  attention  and  exertion ;  the 
material  requisite  to  feed  the  vital  flame  must  be  collected  from  innu- 
merable sources,  at  great  expense  of  time  and  trouble :  the  spark  of 
life  is  perpetually  exposed  to  the  danger  of  extinction,  like  a  lamp 
carried  in  a  stormy  night,  that  requires  to  be  covered  by  the  hand,  and 
seems  every  moment  ready  to  expire.  Nothing  but  the  strongest 
attachment  to  life  could  secure  it,  amid  continual  exposures,  from 
sudden  or  premature  destruction :  without  the  operation  of  the  self- 
preserving  instinct,  man  would  be  literally  like  a  shadow,  that  is  here 
to-day  and  gone  to-morrow.  On  the  first  departure  of  prosperity,  on 
the  first  preponderance  of  sorrow  over  joy,  in  this  checkered  scene, — 
in  which  the  colours  of  good  and  evil  are  so  constantly  intermingled 
that  it  is  often  difficult  to  say  wliich  predominates  over  the  other, — 
how  many,  unrestrained  by  the  natm-al  love  of  life,  would  forsake  their 
stations  ;  how  few,  unsupported  by  attachment  to  being,  would  perse- 
vere in  their  course  to  the  end,  or  "  run  with  patience  the  race  set 
before  them  !"  Our  first  father  would  probably  have  fulfilled,  in  the 
letter,  the  sentence  he  incurred,  and  died  on  the  very  day  of  his  trans- 
gression, thus  destroying  the  human  race  in  their  original,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  benevolent  care  of  his  Creator,  by  which  his  existence, 
and  the  desire  of  its  continuance,  were  secured  for  the  great  purpose 
of  his  moral  probation.  For  life,  we  cannot  forget,  is,  in  its  highest 
use,  the  season  of  our  trial  for  an  eternal  state  of  being.  This  is  the 
point  of  view  in  which  its  preservation  becomes  unspeakably  interest- 
ing. It  stands  connected  with  nothing  less  than  the  incarnation,  suf- 
ferings, and  glory  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  and,  whatever  is  the  importance 
of  those  stupendous  mysteries,  the  same  is  the  importance  of  human 
life,  considered  as  the  "  time  of  our  visitation  !"  The  results  of  the 
whole  process  of  redemption,  the  accomplishment  of  the  greatest 
designs  of  the  Deity,  are  involved  in  the  continuance  of  this  probation- 
ary state  of  existence. 

2.  A  second  purpose  answered  by  the  principle  we  are  considering 
is  the  promotion  of  industry  and  labour.  Life  must  be  loved,  in  order 
that  it  may  be  preserved ;  and  preserved,  in  order  that  it  may  be  em- 
ployed. The  original  denunciation  of  death  was  preceded  by  the 
sentence  of  a  life  of  labour :  "  Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake ; 
thorns  and  thistles  shall  it  bring  forth  to  thee ;  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow 
shall  thou  eat  bread,  until  thou  return  to  the  ground.''''  In  every  other 
state  of  society,  and  perhaps  in  none  so  much  as  in  the  most  refined 
state,  the  greater  part  of  the  community  must  necessarily  be  subjected 
to  labour.  Under  the  best  possible  form  of  government,  some  must 
produce  what  is  to  be  enjoyed  by  others.  This  unavoidable  condition 
of  subjection  and  servhude  will  be  attended,  in  many  cases,  by  great 
hardship  and  suffering.  In  such  circumstances,  nothing  but  that 
strong  attachment  to  life  of  which  we  are  speaking  could  reconcile 
the  weary  suflTerers  to  a  voluntary  continuance  in  a  state  that  entails 
so  much  endurance.     Yet,  while  every  humane  person  must  regard 


426  THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE. 

such  instances  of  excessive  toil  with  compassion,  and  desire  to  alle- 
viate them  so  far  as  he  may  be  able ;  this  laborious  condition  of  the 
multitude  should  be  considered  as  a  dispensation  of  mercy  blended 
with  judgment.  For  what  would  be  the  state  of  society,  disturbed  as 
even  now  it  is  by  crimes,  if  the  multitudes  of  those  who  are  at  present 
confined  by  labour  were  let  loose  upon  the  public  in  all  the  wanton- 
ness of  a  licentious  imagination  and  unbridled  passions  ?  Reflect,  for 
a  moment,  what  misery  and  desolation  must  arise  from  such  a  mass 
of  depravity,  such  an  accumulation  of  cupidity  and  malevolence,  aban- 
doned, without  any  fixed  employment,  to  its  own  turbulent  impulses  ! 
This,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  is  a  melancholy  picture  of  human 
nature  ;  but  it  is  such  as  truth  requires.  How  great  a  benefit,  there- 
fore, that  necessary  condition  of  labour,  which  acts  as  a  barrier  of 
defence  against  the  wildness  of  human  passions,  and  says,  as  it  were, 
to  that  tempestuous  ocean,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther !" 
But  the  desire  of  preserving  life  is  the  strongest  incentive  to  all  this 
salutary  industry  and  toil. 

3.  A  third  object  to  which  the  same  principle  is  subservient  is  the 
protection  of  life  from  the  hand  of  violence.  Without  some  strong 
restraining  sentiment,  the  life  of  individuals  would  be  exposed  to  con- 
tinual danger  from  the  disordered  passions  of  others.  The  first  crime, 
of  a  social  nature,  committed  by  man,  was  the  extinction  of  his 
brother's  life ;  and  the  first  penal  law,  enacted  by  God,  was  directed 
against  a  repetition  of  that  crime  :  "  Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by 
man  shall  his  blood  be  shed."  The  love  of  life,  so  strongly  felt  in 
every  bosom,  inspires  it  with  a  proportionate  horror  of  any  act  that 
would  invade  the  life  of  another.  Every  one  burns  with  indignation 
against  an  assassin,  as  against  his  own  personal  enemy ;  every  one 
feels  interested  in  the  discovery  of  such  a  criminal,  and  would  consider 
himself  honoured  in  stepping  forward  to  drag  before  the  tribunal  of 
justice  one  who  is  regarded  as  if  he  had  injured  every  partaker  of  his 
nature  !  This  universal  horror  and  exposure  to  the  public  vengeance, 
which  peculiarly  attaches  to  the  crime  of  murder  in  all  civilized  states 
of  society,  cannot  but  operate  as  a  powerful  and  important  safeguard 
of  human  life.  The  magistrate  and  the  law  owe  their  whole  pro- 
tective eflicacy  to  that  sentiment  of  attachment  to  existence  which 
is  a  law  loritten  07i  every  heart. 

III.  In  adding  a  brief  improvement  of  this  subject,  we  may  infer, 
1.  The  fall  of  man;  the  universal  apostacy  of  our  nature  from  the 
state  in  which  it  originally  proceeded  from  the  Divine  Author.  Created 
with  this  inextinguishable  desire  of  existence,  we  are  destined  to  dis- 
solution :  our  nature  includes  two  contradictory  ])rinciples, — the  cer- 
tainty of  death,  and  the  attachment  to  life.  This  fact  atlbrds  the 
clearest  evidence  that  we  are  now  placed  in  an  unnatural,  disordered, 
disjointed  condition  ;  that  a  great  and  awful  change  has  passed  upon 
our  race  since  our  first  father  came  from  the  hand  of  God.  And  this 
change  must  be  owing  to  ourselves ;  it  cannot  be  ascribed  to  our  Creator, 
without  the  supposition  of  a  sufficient  cause  in  our  own  misconduct. 
Here  revelation  breaks  the  silence  of  nature,  while  it  tells  us  that  by 


THE  LOVE  OF  LIFE.  427 

one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  hy  sin ;  and  so  death 
passed  upon  all,  because  all  have  sinned.  On  any  other  hypothesis, 
the  problem  is  inexplicable  ;  for,  can  the  Father  of  the  universe,  him- 
self the  source  of  all  created  tenderness,  be  conceived  to  have  thus 
treated  his  own  offspring,  without  a  real  and  sufficient  cause  ?  Can 
malevolence  and  misery  issue  from  the  bosom  of  infinite  goodness  and 
love  ?  Can  He  who  gave  us  life,  who  bound  us  to  it  by  so  strong  a  tie 
of  attachment,  deprive  us  of  it,  and  doom  us  to  a  corruption  from 
which  nature  recoils,  without  a  necessity  arising  from  ourselves  ?  Let 
any  one  that  is  a  parent  judge  by  his  own  parental  feelings, — according 
to  the  appeal  of  our  Saviour  himself,  founded  upon  this  analogy. 
But  the  Scripture  makes  all  clear :  we  are  like  the  potter's  vessel 
described  by  Jeremiah,  which  was  at  first  made  good,  but  was  marred 
after  it  was  made  :  "  How  is  the  gold  become  dim  ?  and  the  fine  gold 
changed!  The  crown  is  fallen  from  our  head;  wo  unto  us,  for  we 
have  sinned .'" 

2.  But  the  subject  may  serve  to  remind  us,  also,  of  the  salvation 
which  provided  us  the  antidote  to  our  ruined  condition.  Every  human 
being,  it  is  true,  is  treated  as  a  criminal,  who,  though  he  may  be 
reprieved  for  a  time,  must  expect  to  sufler  the  penalty  of  the  law  he 
has  violated  :  every  individual,  in  his  turn,  is  led  forth  to  his  destiny 
of  death.  This,  however,  is  consistent  with  the  plan  of  salvation.  It 
is  a  restorative  dispensation  under  which  we  are  placed  :  we  are  not 
treated  as  innocent, — as  if  we  had  never  offended, — but  as  criminals 
chastised  for  disobedience,  while  they  are  placed  on  trial  for  mercy. 
The  deluge  presented  a  grand  monument  of  the  Divine  wrath  on  sin  ; 
and  a  smaller  exhibition  of  that  wrath  is  repeated  in  the  death  of 
every  human  being.  In  such  a  situation,  what  we  want  is  life;  and 
this  is  abundantly  offered.  Eternal  life  is  the  gift  of  God  by  Jesus 
Christ !  "/,"  said  .Tesus  Christ,  "/  am  the  life  !  I  am  the  bread  of 
life  !  Whosoever  believeth  in  me  shall  live  for  ever  .'"  "  The  life,"  says 
John,  "  was  manifested :  ivhosoevcr  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of 
life  freely  '."  Such  are  some  of  the  last  accents  of  inspiration.  As 
the  value  of  a  medicine  is  proportioned  to  the  malignity  of  a  disease, — 
how  earnest  should  be  our  desire,  how  grateful  our  acceptance,  of  such 
a  remedy  !  To  pass  from  death  to  life ;  to  triumph  in  the  prospect 
and  approach  of  the  last  enemy  ;  to  enjoy  even  here  many  a  delightful 
foretaste  of  the  heavenly  immortality  ;  to  experience  a  vital  union 
■with  the  Father  of  spirits,  and  hereafter  to  attain  the  consummation 
of  this  union,  and  bask  for  ever  in  the  brightness  of  His  presence ; 
behold  what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  upon  us  !  How 
shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  ?  Such  neglect  in- 
volves a  degree  of  guilt  and  infatuation  which  it  will  require  eternity  to 
deplore,  and  eternity  to  comprehend  ! 

3.  As  a  third  improvement,  connected  with  what  has  been  observed, 
let  me  remind  j-ou  of  the  medium  by  which  this  Divine  life  is  imparted 
and  received.  There  must  be  a  medium  of  contact  between  the  benefit 
and  the  subject  of  that  benefit ;  between  the  eternal  life  provided,  and 
the  Spirit  for  which  it  is  provided.     This  connecting  medium  is  faith. 


428  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

Being  justified  hy  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
Faith  is  the  hnk  of  union  between  the  salvation  as  prepared  and  per- 
fect without  ourselves  and  our  own  personal  being.  This  is  beauti- 
fully, though  briefly,  expressed  by  Peter,  when  he  assures  the  cripple 
whom  he  had  healed  that  the  cure  had  been  effected  through  the 
medium  of  faith:  '■^  His  name,  through  faith  in  His  name,  hath  made 
this  man  whole.'"  Faith  was  as  necessary  in  the  subject  of  the  cure, 
as  the  name  itself  on  which  his  faith  relied.  The  work  of  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  on  the  heart  is  as  necessary  to  our  salvation  as  the  work 
of  Christ  himself, — his  obedience  unto  death,  and  his  intercession  in 
heaven. 

4.  In  the  last  place,  the  subject  concurs  with  the  occasion  to  remind 
us  of  the  duty,  the  obligation  under  which  we  lie,  to  impart  the  know- 
ledge and  enjoyment  of  these  vital,  eternal  blessings,  to  our  suffering 
fellow-sinners.  The  civil  and  merely  temporal  benefits  of  Christianity 
are  great :  the  water  of  life,  in  its  passage  through  a  country,  diflfiises 
innumerable  improvements  wherever  it  pursues  its  peaceful  course ; 
the  very  leaves  of  the  tree  of  life  are  given  for  the  healing  of  the  nations. 
But  far  be  it  from  us  to  recommend  the  civil  as  the  great  and  ultimate 
blessings  of  the  gospel :  these  are  of  a  spiritual  and  eternal  nature ; 
furnishing  a  perfect  antidote  to  the  dread  of  death — a  perfect  sat- 
isfaction for  the  desire  of  life,  so  deeply  implanted  in  the  human 
breast. 


XIII. 
NOTES   OF   THE   FOLLOWING  SERMON, 

TRANSCRIBED  FROM  THE  MANUSCRIPT  OF  MR.  HALL. 

"  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God:'' 

1.  The  import  of  this  appellation. 

L  The  peculiar  features  of  Ilis  personal  character. 
2.  The  design  of  His  death. 

\.  His  personal  character.  His  innocence.  His  patience.  "Such 
a  High-priest  became  us,"  &c. 

2.  He  was  the  Paschal  Lamb.     Exod.  xii. 

Draw  the  parallel  in  several  particulars.  Both  sacrifices  the 
instrument  of  elTccting  a  great  deliverance.  The  benefit  of  both 
moral,  not  pliysical.  'i'he  Lamb  must  be  perfect  offered  by  and  for 
all  the  people.  Blood  sprinkled.  Not  a  bone  broken.  Time  of 
ofTering. 

II.  The  purport  of  the  exclamation, — that  He  is  an  object  of  atten- 
ton.     Its  most  proper  object.     Three  qualities  entitled  to  attention. 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  429 

1.  Intrinsic  greatness.  An  incarnate  Deity,  the  Ruler  of  all  things, 
the  mysterious  Mediator  and  Advocate. 

2.  Newness.  What  so  new  as  the  invisible  Creator  clothed  in 
human  flesh — The  Ancient  of  Days  cradled  as  an  infant ;  He  who 
upholdeth  all  things  sinking  under  a  weight  of  suffering ;  the  Lord 
of  glory  expiring  on  the  cross ;  the  Light  of  the  world  sustaining  an 
awful  eclipse ;  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  immerged  in  the  shadow  of 
death? 

3.  The  relation  an  object  bears  to  our  interest.  The  Lamb  of  God 
a  most  interesting  object  to  all  classes  of  men:  (L)  To  sinners  ;  (2.) 
To  saints."* 

ANALYSIS  OF  THE   SERMON, 

AS  REPRESENTED  IN  THE  FOLLOWING  PAGES. 

L  Import  of  the  appellation  "  Lamb  of  God." 

1.  Features  of  the  personal  character  of  Christ:  (1.)  Innocence; 
(2.)  Patience. 

2.  Design  of  his  appearance. 

Points  of  resemblance  between  His  sacrifice  and  the  Passover. 
In  each,  (1.)  A  great  deliverance  achieved;  (2.)  A  destruction, 
otherwise  inevitable,  averted ;  (3.)  The  benefit  moral,  not  physical ; 
(4.)  The  personal  qualities  of  the  victims  similar;  (5.)  The  blood 
required  to  be  sprinkled;  (6.)  The  sacrifice  to  be  regarded  by  the 
whole  congregation;  (7.)  The  time  of  the  oflering  the  same;  (8.) 
No  bone  to  be  broken  ;  (9.)  The  Passover  prepared  by  fire,  as  an 
emblem  of  torture. 

II.  Design  of  the  exclamation,  "  Behold  !" 

An  object  worthy  of  supreme  attention  from  all : 

1.  From  sinners.  Three  qualities  which  command  attention,  ex- 
hibited here  in  the  highest  degrees :  (L)  Greatness;  (2.)  Novelty; 
(3.)   Usefulness. 

2.  From  believers. 

3.  From  the  redeemed  in  glory. 

4.  From  the  holy  angels. 

5.  From  the  Divine  Being. 

*  These  notes  give  the  plan  of  the  sermon  ag  it  was  preached  at  Bedford  :  at  Bristol  the  applica- 
tion of  the  text  was  extended,  as  the  following  sketch  represents,  to  all  orders  of  beings. 


430  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 


THE   LAMB   OF   GOD— IIIS   CHARACTER— HIS   SACRIFICE— 
AND  HIS  CLAIM  TO  UNIVERSAL  ATTENTION. 

John  i.  35.  36. — Again  the  next  day  after  John  stood,  and  two  of  his 
disciples ;  and  looking  upon  Jesus  as  lie  walked,  he  saith,  Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God  !* 

[preached    at    BEOADMEAD,    BRISTOL,    NOVEMBER,    1820,    AND    AGAIN    AT    BEDFOKD, 

MARCH,    1821.] 

The  forerunner  of  our  Lord  manifested  a  peculiar  anxiety  to  impress 
the  minds  of  his  hearers  with  a  conviction  that  he  was  not  himself 
the  Messiah.  Yet  there  appears  to  have  existed  a  party  among  his 
disciples  who  entertained  an  improper  attachment  to  his  ministry, 
preferring  it  to  that  of  our  Lord.  Their  disciples  constituted  two 
distinct  classes  :  the  partisans  of  John,  disposed  to  exalt  his  preten- 
sions greatly  beyond  their  real  nature  and  his  own  assertions,  seem  to 
have  countenanced  the  opinion  that  he  was  the  great  expected  person- 
age. To  counteract  such  a  fatal  misconception,  the  Baptist  embraced 
every  opportunity  of  referring  his  followers  to  Jesus  Christ,  as  well 
as  of  explaining  liis  own  character.  He  was,  as  he  represented,  "the 
voice  crying  in  the  wilderness.  Prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord ;"  he 
was  "the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom,"  not  the  Bridegroom  himself: 
and,  with  the  same  view,  he  uttered,  on  two  occasions,  the  declaration 
contained  in  the  passage  just  read.  The  testimony  there  expressed 
is  not  the  first  which  he  had  borne  to  Christ :  it  appears  that  on  the 
preceding  day  he  had  announced  Jesus  as  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world :"  and,  as  the  evangelist  relates  in 
the  text,  "  Again  the  next  day  after  John  stood,  and  two  of  his  dis- 
ciples ;  and  looking  upon  Jesus  as  he  walked,  he  saith,  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God." 

While  we  admire  the  disinterestedness  of  this  great  man  in  endea- 
vouring to  convince  his  converts  that  Jesus  Christ  was  infinitely  his 
superior,  we  cannot  help  supposing  that  probably  his  ministry  and  his 
life  were  the  sooner  closed  in  consequence  of  the  inordinate  attach- 
ment of  his  adiierents.  It  was  unfit  that  he  should  remain  as  a  rival 
to  the  Saviour :  he  was  therefore  withdrawn  from  the  scene,  and  his 
ministry  prematurely  closed,  that  every  degree  of  confidence  for  sal- 
vation might  be  removed  from  the  creature,  to  be  fixed  on  the  Saviour 
alone. 

In  considering  the  testimony  borne  to  Jesus  Christ  in  the  text,  I  shall 
direct  your  attention,  first,  to  the  import  of  the  appellation ;  and  then 
to  the  purport  of  the  exclamation,  as  it  may  be  understood  to  express 
ihe  claim  which  Jesus  Christ  possesses  to  the  attention  of  every  order  of 
beings. 

*  The  present  tranecript  is  the  result  of  the  notes  taken  by  tlie  Rev.  T.  Grinfleld,  at  Bristol,  col- 
lateO  Tvith  the  notes  taken  at  Bedford; 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  431 

I.  The  import  of  the  appellation  "  the  Lamb  of  God."  There  are 
two  things  which,  in  all  probability,  John  had  in  his  view  when  he  used 
this  appellation  :  the  distinguishing  features  of  our  Saviour's  personal 
character,  and  the  great  design  of  his  appearance  a7id  death. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  the  expression  "Lamb  of  God"  has  respect  to 
the  peculiar  features,  the  personal  character  of  Christ. 

In  the  Scriptures,  as  perhaps  in  every  known  language  of  mankind, 
a  lamb  has  been  selected  as  the  popular  symbol  of  innocence  and  pa- 
tieiice.  These  were  qualities  that  peculiarly  distinguished  our  Saviour, 
and  formed,  on  every  occasion,  the  most  conspicuous  features  of  his 
character. 

(1.)  He  was  a  perfect  pattern  of  innocence.  As  one  of  his  apostles 
describes  him,  "  He  was  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from 
sinners."  His  freedom  from  every  taint  of  original  sin  was  secured  by 
his  miraculous  conception :  hence  the  angel  at  his  nativity  declared  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  "  The  Holy  Ghost  shall  come  upon  thee  ;  and  there- 
fore, that  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born  of  thee  shall  be  called  the 
Son  of  God.'"  As  he  advanced  in  age,  all  his  actions  were  completely 
consonant  with  the  law  of  God.  He  could  say  to  his  bitterest  ene- 
mies, "  Which  of  you  convinceth  me  of  "sin  V  He  could  affirm  that, 
when  Satan  came,  he  had  nothing  in  Christ.  Even  the  opponents  of 
Christianity  have  never  attempted  to  impugn  the  moral  character  of  its 
Author.  It  was  necessary  that  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  should  be  "  with- 
out spot  or  blemish."  "  Such  a  High-priest  became  us  ;"  because,  as 
an  example,  he  could  not  have  been  explicitly  proposed  to  our  imita- 
tion, had  the  slightest  imperfection  attached  to  himself;  and,  as  a  sac- 
rifice for  sin,  he  could  not  have  been  acceptable  in  the  eye  of  infinite 
purity  and  justice,  had  he  been  any  other  than  a  spotless  victim. 
Accordingly,  his  conduct  was,  in  every  particular,  blameless  and  vir- 
tuous. In  the  most  trying  situations,  under  every  form  of  temptation, 
we  find  him  never  failing :  there  appears  nothing  in  his  character  in 
the  smallest  degree  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  absolute  human  per- 
fection. The  greatest  absence  of  every  thing  like  malevolence, — of 
every  thing  merely  selfish, — appears  in  all  his  actions.  His  miracles 
were  always  miracles  of  mercy  and  beneficence  ;  his  omnipotence  was 
exerted  only  to  do  good :  it  seemed  as  if  the  secret  of  his  power  resided 
07tly  in  benefiting  others,  and  relieving  the  miseries  of  those  who  sur- 
rounded him  ;  as  if  he  existed  only  for  the?n,  and  became  the  mostlielp- 
less  of  beings  when  his  own  interest  was  concerned.  Innocence  is  a 
negative  term,  it  properly  denotes  only  the  absence  of  faults  and 
oifences  ;  in  this  respect  it  formed  but  a  part  of  his  character.  His 
innocence  was  crowned  with  infinite  beneficence. 

(2.)  A  second,  and  an  equally  distinguished  feature  of  his  character, 
implied  in  the  appellation  of  a  lamb,  is  \\\s  patience.  "The  Son  of  Man," 
as  he  said  of  himself,  "  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister, 
and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many."  He  bowed  to  the  will  of  his 
Fatiier,  and  was  "  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cros?." 
In  the  midst  of  injuries  and  insults,  the  most  unmerited  and  aggravated 
that  were  ever  suti'ered,  he  exhibited  a  perfect  pattern  of  patient  resigila- 


432  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

tion.  He  never  resented  the  violence  of  his  enemies :  "  When  he 
was  reviled,  he  reviled  not  again."  "  He  was  led  as  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter ;  and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened 
not  his  mouth."  There  was  indeed  one  instance  in  which  "  he  opened 
his  mouth  :"  arraigned  before  the  high-priest,  he  answered  not  a  word  ; 
until,  in  reply  to  the  demand  whether  he  was  the  Son  of  God,  he 
answered  in  the  affirmative ;  thus  breaking  silence  before  his  enemies 
only  when  his  confession  ensured  his  condemnation  to  death.  The 
miraculous  powers  he  possessed  over  nature  and  the  minds  of  men  he 
never  exerted  to  avert  his  own  sufferings,  or  avenge  his  wrongs  upon 
his  persecutors.  Though  the  elements  were  at  his  disposal,  and 
demons  subject  to  his  command,  yet,  in  the  crisis  of  his  affliction, 
nothing  was  visible  but  compassion  for  the  guilty  :  "  Father,"  he  cried, 
"  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do !"  Nor  would  he 
suffer  his  disciples  to  retaliate  the  injuries  he  received :  he  rebuked 
Peter  when  he  drew  the  sword  on  Malchus  ;  he  rebuked  his  disciples 
when  they  would  have  called  down  lire  on  the  Samaritans,  saying, 
"  Ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit  ye  are  of"  Gentleness  and  ten- 
derness, a  sensibility  to  the  sufferings  of  others,  and  an  indifference  to 
his  own, — these  formed  the  most  prominent  traits  of  his  character :  in 
these  he  places  the  essence  of  his  religion,  so  far  as  it  is  practical  and 
relative  to  others.  Of  other  virtues,  we  may  say  that  they  form  parts 
of  the  Christian  character ;  but  these  are  emphatically  the  Christian 
spirit  itself:  in  proportion  as  we  are  patient,  compassionate,  forbearing, 
forgiving,  and  ready  even  to  suffer  for  the  good  of  others,  we  have 
"  the  mind  of  Christ." 

It  was  thus  that  he  illustrated,  in  his  own  example,  the  nature  and 
genius  of  the  gospel  dispensation,  as  superior  to  every  other.  None 
of  his  predecessors  in  the  church  of  God  could  compare  with  himself 
here.  The  law  was  a  severe  dispensation ;  its  tendency  was  not  so 
much  to  cherish  the  milder  virtues,  the  lamb-like  graces  of  the  gospel, 
Moses,  though  the  "  meekest  of  men"  under  that  economy,  was  over- 
taken by  the  impetuosity  of  his  spirit  when  he  dashed  in  pieces  the 
tables  inscribed  by  the  finger  of  God.  The  miracles  of  Elijah  and 
Elisha  were  sometimes  destructive  :  the  former  commanded  fire  from 
heaven,  the  latter  bears  from  the  wood  to  consume  his  enemies.  John 
the  Baptist  was  austere  in  his  manners,  and  terrific  in  his  preaching : 
there  was  in  him  much  moral  grandeur,  but  it  was  of  a  savage  and 
uncultivated  aspect ;  it  resembled  the  lonely  and  severe  character  of 
the  wilderness  in  which  he  appeared :  he  was  "  the  axe  laid  to  the 
root  of  the  trees  ;"  the  son  of  thunder,  commissioned  to  summon  the 
guilty  before  the  tribunal,  and  denounce  judgment  on  every  unfruitful 
professor.  But  Jesus  Christ  was  mild,  affable,  social,  compassionate  ; 
"  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners  ;"  who  came  to  "  feed  his  flock 
like  a  shepherd,  to  gather  the  lambs  in  his  arms,  and  carry  them  in  his 
bosom."  When  lie  beheld  tlie  city  of  Jerusalem,  he  wept  over  it : 
when  he  said  to  all  who  heard  him,  "  Learn  of  me,"  he  could  truly  and 
peculiarly  add  as  at  once  an  example  and  encouragement  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "for  1  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."     So  well  might  he  be 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  433 

styled,  with  a  view  to  the  features  of  his  character,  "  the  Lamb   of 
God." 

2.  But  we  shall  form  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  the  full  import  of 
John's  expression,  if  we  confine  it  to  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ, 
This  is  not  the  only,  nor  perhaps  the  principal  view  in  which  we  are  to 
understand  the  appellation  "  Lamb  of  God  !"  There  is  another  object 
of  the  highest  importance  to  us,  and  to  which  his  innocence  and  pa- 
tience were  requisite.  He  appeared  not  merely  as  a  pattern  of  holi- 
ness ;  though,  in  this  respect,  we  have  seen  in  him  an  unrivalled  pre- 
eminence above  all  the  messengers  of  God:  but  he  is  to  be  principally 
regarded  as  the  Saviour,  "  who  taketh,"  or  beareth,  "  away  the  sin  of 
the  world."  That  the  Baptist,  in  calling  Jesus  Christ  "the  Lamb  of 
God,"  had  a  reference  to  his  sacrijlcud  character,  is  manifest  from  the 
explanatory  clause  he  added  on  the  preceding  occasion — "  who  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  tlie  world."  The  example  of  Christ,  however  perfect, 
had  no  proper  power  to  "  take  away  sin :"  the  best  example,  as  we 
know,  has  but  a  feeble  influence  in  correcting  depravity,  and  none  what- 
ever in  removing  guilt.  It  is  unnecessary,  however,  to  multiply  words 
in  proof  of  this  doctrine ;  because  it  is  our  privilege,  on  the  present 
occasion,  to  address  those  who  are  continually  reminded  of  Christ  as 
the  only  mediator  between  God  and  man.  In  the  appellation  employed 
by  the  Baptist  there  is  then,  secondly,  a  distinct  reference  to  the^rea^ 
design  of  his  appearance  and  death.  It  points  him  out  as  the  Lamb 
which  God  provided  and  accepted.  It  marks  the  sacrificial  character 
of  Christ,  prefigured  by  the  legal  offerings.  This  Divine  Lamb  ful- 
filled all  that  was  signified  by  those  ancient  sacrifices,  which  consisted 
principally  of  lambs  ;  and  especially  all  that  was  represented  by  the 
paschal  lamb.  A  lamb  was  offered  daily,  in  the  morning  and  evening, 
in  the  tabernacle,  and  afterward  in  the  temple :  but  the  paschal  sacri- 
fice was  solemnized  with  a  peculiar  attention  and  publicity  once  in 
every  year.  The  Jews  regarded  this  as  the  most  important  of  all 
their  observances.  It  was  the  most  ancient  of  them  all,  instituted  on 
their  departure  from  Egypt,  in  commemoration  of  their  deliverance 
from  the  destroying  angel :  and,  though  at  first  it  reminded  them  of 
that  event,  yet  afterward  it  probably  served  to  direct  their  expectations 
to  the  great  sacrifice  for  sin  by  the  promised  Redeemer.  The  circum- 
stances and  the  purport  of  this  remarkable  ceremony  may  be  found 
fully  described  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Exodus ;  a  chapter  replete 
with  the  doctrine  of  Christ  crucified.  On  that  memorable  night  in 
which  the  angel  of  the  Lord  slew  all  the  first-born  of  Egypt,  not 
excepting  those  of  the  royal  household,  he  was  ordered  to  spare 
the  families  of  Israel,  which  had  been  directed  to  exhibit  a  sign 
of  the  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ,  by  sprinkling  the  blood  of  a  lamb 
on  the  posts  of  their  doors.  The  destroying  angel  recognised  this  con- 
secrated token,  ?i\\A  passed  over  the  house  thus  marked,  without  smiting 
any  member  of  the  family  it  contained.  That  this  was  typical  of  the 
salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  is  evident  from  the  application  of  it  made  by 
the  apostle  Paul,  when  he  says,  "  Christ,  our  passover,  is  sacrificed 
for  us  ;  therefore  let  us  keep  the  feast."  The  idea  of  Christ  being  the 
Vol.  III.— E  e 


434  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

great  end  of  that  ceremony  is  so  plain,  so  certain,  that  the  apostle  takes 
no  pains,  as  he  does  on  many  other  occasions,  to  establish  the  point 
by  reasoning ;  he  simply  assumes  and  asserts  it  as  a  well-known  truth. 

Many  particulars  may  be  pointed  out  in  the  resemblance  between 
the  paschal  sacrifice  and  "  the  Lamb  of  God  :"  I  proceed  to  trace  the 
parallel  through  some  of  the  most  remarkable. 

(1.)  The  passover  was  designed  to  commemorate  a  great  deliver- 
ance, that  of  Israel  from  the  captivity  and  slavery  of  Egypt ;  and  it 
was  designed  to  prefgure  a  deliverance  far  greater — that  of  mankind 
from  a  tyranny  far  more  abominable,  a  depression  far  more  miserable  ; 
from  the  captivity  of  Satan,  the  slavery  of  sin,  the  dread  of  wrath  to 
come  ;  that  the  happy  subjects  of  this  divine  redemption  maybe  placed 
under  the  conduct  of  providence  and  grace  in  their  passage  through  the 
wilderness  of  this  world,  until  they  shall  be  settled  in  the  land  of 
promise  and  eternal  rest. 

(2.)  The  passover  commemorated  a  deliverance  from  a  destruction 
otherwise  inevitable  :  it  was  the  only  appointed  means  of  safety  ;  there 
was  no  other  possibility  of  escape  from  the  angel  of  Divine  wrath. 
Thus  the  redemption  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  is  the  only  refuge  of 
hope  set  before  us, — the  only  appointed  means  of  escape  from  that 
wrath  which  will  come  upon  all  that  neglect  this  great  salvation. 

(3.)  In  both  these  cases  (it  deserves  attention)  there  exists  no 
natural  relation  between  the  means  and  the  end :  the  benefit  of  the 
sacrifice  is  moral,  not  physical.  The  sprinkling  of  the  blood  on  the 
doors  of  the  Israelites  had  no  intrinsic  efiicacy  whatever  to  preserve 
them :  none  can  suppose  any  such  efficacy  therein,  as  that  by  which 
causes  produce  their  eflfects  in  the  course  of  nature.  The  Divine 
Being  appointed  the  blood  to  be  the  sign  and  the  instrument  of  the 
deliverance  ;  and,  being  thus  appointed,  it  served  to  arrest  the  progress 
of  the  destroying  angel.  So  it  is  with  the  sacrifice  of  Christ.  Be- 
tween the  death  of  Christ  and  the  expiation  of  guilt  there  was  no  such 
relation  as  that  which  subsists  in  nature  between  secondary  causes  and 
their  appropriate  effects  :  it  was  a  moral  relation,  resulting  from  the 
will  and  appointment  of  God,  who  accepted  the  death  of  Christ  as 
a  consideration  of  sufficient  dignity  to  satisfy  his  justice  and  vindicate 
his  law.  It  had  no  efficacy  as  a  natural  cause  ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
left  all  natural  causes  to  operate  as  before  :  but  it  became  a  moral 
motive  with  God ;  an  authentic  instrument  for  the  sanciification  and 
acceptance  of  those  who  are  "  elect,  according  to  the  foreknowledge 
of  God,  unto  obedience,  and  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus." 
It  was  a  powerful  cause  in  and  upon  the  Divine  mind,  moving  Him  who 
moves  all  things.  For  the  sake  of  this  great  sacrifice  it  seemed  fit  and 
right,  and  in  every  respect  worthy  of  Him,  " /;y  whom  and /or  whom 
are  all  things,"  that  every  penitent  believer  should  be  treated  as  if  he 
had  never  sinned ;  that,  through  this,  he  should  be  washed,  justified, 
sanctified,  and  glorified.  And  there  was  no  more  a  change  of  the 
Divine  mind  in  the  latter  than  in  the  former  instance ;  since  the  Deity 
foresaw  all  that  should  come  to  pass.  At  a  distance  He  contemplated 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ :  He  beheld  in  it  the  honour  of  the  Divine  law. 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  435 

the  display  of  the  Divine  purity  and  justice.  This  sacrifice,  being 
always  present  to  his  contemplation,  was  the  ground  on  which  sins 
committed  under  the  first  covenant  were  pardoned  to  the  penitent ;  and 
it  is  with  a  reference  to  the  efficacy  of  this  expiation,  as  reflected  back 
from  the  cross,  that  Christ  is  called  "  the  Lamb  slain  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world." 

(4.)  Again,  we  may  observe  the  similarity  which  appears  in  the 
personal  qualities  of  the  two  victims.  The  paschal  lamb  must  be 
perfect,  a  male  of  the  first  year,  without  spot  or  blemish.  So  Christ, 
as  we  have  seen,  possessed  all  mora/ perfection;  exhibited  every  virtue, 
without  a  single  I'ault  or  defect.  He  possessed  also  the  physical  per- 
fection of  man :  he  was  slain,  not  when  withered  by  age  or  decayed 
by  sickness,  but  "  in  the  flower  of  his  strength,  while  his  breasts  were 
full  of  milk,  and  his  bones  of  marrow," — when  youth  was  vanishing 
into  mature  manhood. 

(5.)  Observe,  further,  the  slaying  of  the  paschal  lamb  did  not  avail, 
unless  its  blood  were  sprinkled.  T^e  blood  was  shed  in  order  that 
it  might  be  sprinkled ;  the  sprinkling  was  necessary  to  preserve  the 
Israelites.  Neither  will  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  my  brethren, 
prove  of  saving  efficacy  unless  it  be  applied.  When  wrath  shall  over- 
whelm the  unbelieving,  in  the  judgment  of  the  last  day,  it  will  be  of 
no  avail  to  plead  the  merit  of  this  great  sacrifice,  unless  we  have  ap- 
proached it  for  ourselves.  "  Having  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  we  must  draw  near  with  a  heart  sprinkled  from 
an  evil  (or  an  accusing)  conscience."  None  will  be  saved  from  the 
destruction  of  that  day,  though  they  may  have  lived  in  the  midst  of 
Christian  privileges,  who  cannot  say  with  the  apostle,  "  We  are  come 
to  Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of 
sprinkling,  which  speaketh  better  things  than  that  of  Abel."  The 
merit  of  the  Redeemer's  blood  is  infinite,  but  its  efficacy  is  confined  to 
its  application.  In  his  own  words,  "  except  ye  eat  my  flesh,  and 
drink  my  blood,  ye  have  no  life  in  you."  The  apostles  unite  the  name 
of  Christ  \\\i\\  faith  in  his  name,  as  the  means  they  had  employed  in 
healing  the  cripple  at  the  gate  of  the  temple  :  "  His  name,  through 
faith  in  his  name,  hath  made  this  man  whole;  yea,  the  faith  which  is 
by  him  hath  given  this  man  this  perfect  soundness  in  the  presence  of 
you  all." 

(6.)  As  another  particular  of  the  parallel,  it  may  be  remarked,  that 
while  many  of  the  legal  sacrifices  were  offered  by  individuals  in  their 
private  or  public  characters,  the  paschal  lamb  was  required  to  be  slain 
and  offered  by  the  lohole  congregation  of  Israel;  it  being  understood 
by  all  that  he  who  neglected  this  important  sacrifice  would  lose  its 
benefit, — would  be  cut  oflf  from  the  congregation.  "  Behold,"  here, 
"  the  lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  vorld .'"  The 
blood  of  animal  victims  streamed  for  ages  on  the  Jewish  altars,  but 
did  not  take  away  sin,  even  from  the  Jews  themselves  :  the  benefit  to 
be  derived  from  those  ofierings  was  chiefly  derived  by  those  who  looked 
beyond  them.  Except  as  shadows  of  the  true  Sacrifice  for  sin,  they 
were  to  be  considered  merely  as  civil  rites.     The  voice  with  which 

Ee2 


436  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

they  spoke  could  not,  in  general,  be  heard  "  within  the  vail."  The 
greater  part  of  the  Jews  were  worshippers  of  the  outer  court,  and 
rested  in  their  sacrifices  as  means  of  external  and  civil  advantages. 
But  in  "  the  Lamb  of  God,"  proclaimed  by  John,  we  behold  an  obla- 
tion sufficient  for  the  whole  world  ;  a  fountain  opened  for  sin,  and 
flowing  in  all  directions  ;  an  element  of  pardon  and  eternal  life,  free 
and  extensive  as  the  atmosphere  we  breathe,  which  encompasses  every 
portion  of  the  earth's  surface.  "  i/e,"  says  the  apostle,  "  is  the  pro- 
pitiation for  our  sins,  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the 
lohole  world  :"  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin." 

(7.)  In  the  next  place,  the  time  of  slaying  the  paschal  lamb  agreed 
with  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  sacrifice.  The  sufferings  of  Christ  took 
place  at  the  feast  of  the  passover  ;  and  the  very  hour  of  the  day  ap- 
pears to  have  corresponded  with  that  at  which  the  paschal  lamb  was 
slain.  In  the  chapter  of  Exodus  before  referred  to,  it  is  required  that 
the  lamb  should  be  killed  in  the  evening ;  or  (as  the  original  signifies, 
and  as  it  is  rendered  in  the  margin  of  our  version),  between  the  two 
evenings;  that  is,  between  the  chronological  evening  and  the  natural: 
the  one  commencing  immediately  after  the  sun  had  passed  the  meridian, 
or  after  twelve  at  noon ;  the  other,  by  computation  of  time,  being  at 
six  o'clock.  Thus  the  middle  hour  between  the  two  evenings  will  be 
at  three  in  the  afternoon  ;  the  point  of  time  at  which  our  Lord  expired 
on  the  cross.  He  was  fastened  to  it  "  at  the  sixth  hour,"  which 
answers  to  our  noon ;  and,  "  about  the  ninth  hour,"  or  three  in  the 
afternoon,  "  He  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 
Thus,  at  the  moment  when  the  paschal  lamb  was  appointed  to  be 
slain,  did  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  expire,  under  the  stroke  of  the  Divine 
justice. 

(8.)  Great  objects  consecrate  all  that  surrounds  them  :  they  impart 
a  portion  of  their  own  grandeur  to  every  thing  they  touch,  to  every 
circumstance  with  which  they  are  connected.  It  was  required  that 
"  not  a  hone  of  the  paschal  lamb  should  be  broken ;"  it  must  be  sacrificed 
entire  :  and  this  was  ordered  that  it  might  the  more  exactly  represent 
the  great  Sacrifice.  When  Christ  was  crucified,  the  soldiers  (as  you 
remember)  finding  him  already  dead,  forbore  to  break  his  legs,  as, 
according  to  the  custom,  they  had  broken  the  legs  of  his  two  fellow- 
suflTerers ;  and  thus,  as  the  historian  observes,  was  fulfilled  that  which 
had  been  written  :  "  a  bone  of  him  shall  not  be  broken."  This  cir- 
cumstance, though  in  itself  minute,  serves  to  show  that  Jesus  Christ, 
as  our  Sacrifice,  was  equally  the  subject  of  the  prediction,  and  the 
substance  of  the  type. 

(9.)  Finally,  the  paschal  lamb  was  permitted  to  be  prepared  as/oorf 
by  no  other  means  than  fire.  What  could  more  appropriately  pre- 
fioure  the  agonies  of  "  the  Lamb  of  God,"  who  sweat  great  drops  of 
blood  in  the  garden  ;  who  was  parched  with  tliirst  on  the  cross  ;  who, 
having  submitted  himself  to  endure  the  indignant  justice  of  the  Gov- 
ernor of  the  universe,  experienced  the  awful  truth  that  "our  God  is 
a  consuming  fire  ;"  when  "  His  soul  was  exceeding  sorrowful  even 
unto  death ;"  and  when,  in  the  climax  of  his  anguish,  he  exclaimed. 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  437 

"  Oh,  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me  !  My 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  V  He  contended,  in  those 
moments,  with  all  the  storms  and  billows  of  the  Divine  wrath ;  he 
tasted  the  penalties  of  eternal  death. 

It  appears,  then,  that'there  was  in  many  particulars  a  striking  resem- 
blance between  Jesus  Christ  and  the  paschal  sacrifice  ;  and  the  great 
beauty  of  the  passover  arises  from  this  resemblance.  How  strangely, 
therefore,  are  they  mistaken  who  confine  their  view  of  "  the  Lamb  of 
God"  to  his  example,  and  deny  the  sacrificial  and  atoning  nature  of  his 
sufferings.  We  might  ask  such  persons,  why  was  even  inanimate 
nature,  as  it  were,  in  convulsions  at  his  death?  Why  did  the  heavens 
put  on  sackcloth,  and  the  sun  hide  his  face  in  darkness  ?  Why  were 
the  rocks  rent,  and  the  earth  shaken  ?  Or  (if  this  be  considered  as 
merely  impassioned  declamation),  we  may  demand.  Why  do  we  meet 
with  such  constant  and  emphatic  expressions  regarding  the  blood,  the 
cross,  the  sacrifice,  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  Why  should  there 
have  been  so  vast  a  preparation  of  legal  sacrifices,  of  burnt-offerings 
and  peace-offerings,  expressly  compared  by  the  apostle  (especially  in 
his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews),  with  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  ? — Why  all 
this,  if  nothing  more  was  meant  by  his  death  than  the  completion  of 
his  example,  the  sealing  of  the  truths  he  taught  with  the  blood  he  shed. 
Supposing  this  to  be  all  that  was  intended  to  be  understood  by  such 
representations,  we  can  only  say  that  the  gospel  would  be  the  greatest 
imposition  on  common  sense  that  ever  was  presented  to  the  world ;  it 
would  combine  the  most  pompous  pretensions  with  the  most  meager 
reality,  of  all  existing  composhions. 

n.  We  proceed  to  consider,  as  the  second  part  of  the  subject,  the 
spirit  and  design  of  the  exclamation  uttered  by  the  Baptist  in  the  text, 
as  it  may  be  understood  to  express  the  claim  which  Jesus  Christ  pos- 
sesses to  attention  from  beings  of  cilery  order :  all  are  interested  in 
complying  with  the  summons  given  in  those  words,  "  Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God." 

It  appears  that  the  Baptist  did  not  principally  mean,  by  this  excla- 
mation, to  direct  the  eyes  of  his  disciples  to  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ 
as  a  visible  object ;  in  that  sense,  none  could  comply  with  the  call, 
except  the  few  who  were  present  in  the  scenes  of  his  transient  ministry  : 
the  Baptist  desired  to  command  the  attention  of  his  hearers  to  the 
character  and  ojjice  of  "  the  Lamb  of  God."  In  this  sense  it  is  that 
the  term  "  Behold  !"  is  frequently  used  in  the  Scriptures,  where  no 
literal  vision  of  the  object  is  intended :  it  is  used  to  denote  that  the  ob- 
ject thus  introduced  is  deserving  of  attention  :  as  when  the  angel 
says,  "  Behold,  I  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  !"  or  when  the 
apostle  exclaims,  "  Behold  what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath 
bestowed  upon  us  !"  In  the  text  the  meaning  is  similar  to  that  of  the 
definite  pronoun,  as  though  John  had  said,  "  This  is  the  Lamb  of 
God :"  just  as,  on  another  occasion,  he  said,  "  This  is  he  of  whom  I 
spake."  The  purport  of  the  exclamation,  therefore,  is,  that  Jesus 
Christ,  as  "  the  Lamb  of  God,"  deserves  universal  attention ;  that  he 
is  the  greatest  object  of  admiring  regard  which  the  universe  presents. 


438  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

Ill  illustrating  the  spirit  of  the  exclamation  thus  understood,  we  observe 
the  claim  which  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  possesses  on  the  attention  of  all 
mankind.  Mankind  are  comprehended  in  two  distinct  classes,  they  are 
either  sinners  who  remain  in  their  original  character  ;  or  they  are  believ- 
ers, who,  though  not  ceasing  from  sin  altogether,  are  yet  delivered  IVom 
its  dominion.  Here  is  an  object  pre-eminently  worthy  the  attention  of 
doth  these  classes  : — 

1.  And,  in  the  first  place,  o[  all  toho  remain,  as  sinners,  in  their  ori- 
ginal character  and  state.  In  every  possible  view  in  which  an  object 
can  deserve  regard,  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  claims  from  all  such  persons 
the  most  earnest  attention. 

There  are  three  qualities  which  entitle  an  object  to  our  regard. 

(1.)  The  first  is  its  own  intrinsic  greatness.  On  this  account  the 
sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars,  those  illustrious  splendours  of  the  firma- 
ment, have  attracted  the  attention  of  mankind  in  every  age  and  nation. 
But  the  wonders  of  the  material  world  are  merely  subordinate  to  those 
of  the  intelligent  and  moral  universe;  and  here  an  object  is  exhibited 
incomparably  greater,  in  the  scale  of  being,  than  the  celestial  lumina- 
ries. Here  we  may  behold  Deity  incarnate :  God  manifested  in 
human  nature  !  Turn  aside,  and  see  this  great  sight :  contemplate  this 
object  with  fixed  attention,  till  your  heart  is  suitably  afl'ected  by  the 
contemplation :  gaze  with  the  eye  of  faith  on  this  brighter  "  Morning 
Star,"  gaze  on  this  nobler  "  Sun  of  Righteousness,"  till  every  sublunary 
object  is  eclipsed  by  its  superior  splendour.  Never  was  Deity  revealed 
in  our  nature  but  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  alone  could  be 
truly  called  "  Emmanuel,  God  with  us."  "  In  Him  dwelleth  all  the 
fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily ;"  a  fulness  that  deserves  the  most 
earnest  and  persevering  research,  while  it  must  for  ever  bathe  finite 
comprehension.  This\s  "the  great  mystery  of  godliness  ;"  the  study 
of  admiring  angels  :  the  masterpiece  of  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God  ; 
the  wonder  of  the  universe. 

(2.)  A  second  quality  in  an  object  that  excites  our  attention,  and 
raises  it  to  surprise  and  astonishment,  is  novelty.  We  esteem  a  thing 
the  more  for  being  new :  there  is  a  vivifying  influence  in  the  freshest 
and  rarest  appearances  of  nature  or  of  mind.  But  where  will  you 
find  another  object  worthy  to  be  compared  in  novelty,  in  entire  origin- 
ality, in  singitlariti/  combined  with  greatness,  with  the  object  here  pre- 
sented, "  the  Lamb  of  God  ?"  Travel  in  idea  through  creation, — climb 
the  loftiest  heights, — descend  to  the  lowest  depths, — take  the  wings 
of  an  angel,  and  fly  to  distant  worlds  ;  no  such  being  M'ill  be  found  as 
He  who  once  tabernacled  in  the  flcsli — "  the  Lamb  that  Mas  slain," 
and  that  is  now  seated  at  the  right-hand  of  God,  as  "  the  Lamb  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne."  Heaven  and  tlie  heaven  of  heavens  could  not 
contain  him  ;  yet  he  dwelt,  to  all  appearance,  in  the  body  of  an  infant : 
— the  invisible  Creator  clotiicd  in  liuman  form, — the  Ancient  of  Days 
cradled  as  an  infant  of  days, — "He  who  upholdoth  all  things  sinking 
under  a  weight  of  suflering, — the  Lord  of  life,  tlie  Lord  of  glory,  ex- 
piring on  a  cross, — the  Light  of  the  world  sustaining  an  awful  eclipse, 
— the  Sun  of  Righteousness  iinmerged  in  the   shadow  of  death !" 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  439 

Never  before  was  there  such  a  spectacle  in  earth  or  heaven.  Even 
inanimate  nature  seemed  to  sympathize  with  his  last  agonies  ;  heaven 
itself  descended  to  "  behold  the  Lamb  of  God  :"  and  well  it  might ;  for 
there  was  then  a  greater  prodigy  on  earth  than  any  which  heaven  con- 
tained. Well  might  angels  "  desire  to  look  into"  the  mysteries  of  man's 
redemption  ;  and  nothing  but  the  most  astonishing  infatuation  can  pre- 
vent us  from  following  such  an  example.  Mankind  are  accustomed  to 
admire  profound  philosophers,  victorious  heroes,  or  celebrated  poets  : 
what  are  all  such  objects  of  admiration  in  comparison  with  this  unpar- 
alleled phenomenon,  which  exhibits  all  the  attributes  of  Deity,  adapted 
to  human  apprehensions  ? 

(3.)  Once  more  ;  objects  arrest  our  attention  that  bear  a  relation  to 
our  interest.  Men  are  interested  by  that  which  involves  their  security 
from  evil,  or  promises  their  advancement  in  prosperity.  Objects 
which  are  great  command  attention ;  those  which  are  new  excite  curi- 
osity ;  but  if,  in  addition  to  its  greatness  and  its  novelty,  an  object  bears 
a  manifest  relation  to  our  most  important  interests, — if  it  involves  our 
defence  and  safety, — if  it  forms  the  pillar  of  our  support, — if  it  supplies 
the  shield  of  the  soul,  the  only  hope  for  the  guilty,  the  only  comfort 
for  the  dying,  the  only  prospect  of  eternal  happiness, — surely,  my  dear 
brethren,  such  an  object  is  calculated  to  awaken  in  ou.-  hearts  the  most 
lively  affections  and  desires  ;  and  such  an  object  is  "  the  Lamb  of 
God."  Not  only  great  and  wonderful  in  himself,  he  bears  an  essential 
relation  to  our  most  important — to  our  eternal  interests.  He  comes  to 
deliver  us  from  misery,  and  promote  us  to  happiness.  He  is  compe- 
tent to  satisfy  all  the  secret  wants  and  desires  of  our  nature.  "  Come 
unto  me,"  he  says,  "  all  ye  that  are  weary,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 
I  am  the  Bread  of  Life  :  he  that  eateth  of  this  bread  shall  live  for  ever  ; 
I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day."  These  are  some  of  His  words  : 
from  whom  besides  will  you  hear  words  like  these — "  the  words  of  eter- 
nal life  V 

Jesus  Christ  came  to  save  that  which  was  lost :  he  laid  down  his 
life  to  accomplish  our  salvation.  Nor  was  there  any  waste  of  life  in 
that  sacrifice  :  every  portion  of  his  infinite  energy  was  requisite  to  the 
attainment  of  such  an  object ;  nothing  less  than  the  power  that  upholds 
all  things  was  adequate  to  sustain  the  weight  of  human  sin.  He  whose 
almighty  influence  diffuses  itself  through  the  heavens  and  earth,  and 
preserves  all  orders  of  being.  He  alone  endured  our  punishment ;  He 
"  trod  the  wine-press  alone  ;"  He  "  looked,  and  there  was  none  to  de- 
liver :"  there  existed  no  other  way  of  salvation  than  that  which  he  has 
opened.  The  justice  of  the  Deity,  not  to  he  propitiated  by  any  other 
means,  pursues  the  transgressor  o?i  earth  and  in  hell ;  nothing  in  the 
universe  can  arrest  it  in  its  awful  career,  until  it  stops  in  reverence  at  the 
cross  of  Christ ! 

As  our  salvation  from  the  effects  of  sin  is  a  deliverance  from  a  far 
worse  than  Egyptian  captivity  and  misery,  so  its  accomplishment 
required  a  far  greater  exertion  of  Deity  than  was  required  to  arrest  the 
billows  of  the  Red  Sea.  Never  did  "  the  mighty  God"  more  fully 
display  the  greatness  of  his  power,  than  when  he  showed  himself 


440  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

"  mighty  to  save,  even  to  the  uttermost."  He  fixed  the  foundation  on 
which  we  may  build  our  hope  of  immortahty,  and  find  it  to  be  "  a  hope 
that  maketh  not  ashamed,"  founded  on  the  Rock  of  Ages.  He  went 
into  the  shadow  of  deatli,  into  "  the  lowest  parts  of  the  earth,"  that  he 
might  lay  deep  the  basts  of  that  edifice  which  was  to  rise  as  high  as  the 
throne  of  God  !  "  He  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,"  that 
we  might  become  partakers  of  his  own  divine  nature.  This,  my  breth- 
ren, is  a  view  of  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  of  the  last  importance  to  be 
taken  by  us  all.  If  you  see  him  not  in  this  character,  you  see  nothing 
to  any  valuable  purpose.  You  have  taken  hold  of  ?wthing,  you  have 
grasped  only  shadows,  if  you  have  not  taken  hold  of  Christ,  your 
Life.  Flee  to  him ;  cleave  to  him :  say  of  him  in  the  sincerity  of 
your  heart,  "  Tliis  is  all  my  salvation  and  all  my  desire." 

There  is  only  07ie  class  of  beings  by  whom  the  object  presented  in 
the  text  is  treated  with  unconcern ;  for  even  the  legions  of  hell  regard 
it  with  a  fearful  interest : — utterly  to  "  neglect  so  great  salvation"  is 
the  peculiar  malady  of  impenitent  sinners  in  the  present  world.  But 
what  infatuation  can  be  compared  with  this  1  If  there  be  any  other 
door  by  which  you  may  hope  to  enter  into  heaven,  avail  yourselves 
of  that  "  door  of  hope"  without  delay.  If  any  other  name  be  given 
under  heaven  in  which  you  may  safely  trust  for  the  salvation  of  your 
soul,  place  your  trust  in  that  favourite  name,  and  leave  this  Saviour  to 
others  ;  but  if  there  exists  7io  other  door  that  can  admit  us  into  heaven 
than  that  which  He  has  opened  who  says,  "  I  am  the  door,  I  am  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life," — if  7io  other  name  has  been  given  under 
heaven  whereby  we  may  be  saved  than  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ, — if 
this  is  the  onli/  dispensation  of  mercy ;  then  let  us  turn  our  regards 
from  every  other  refuge,  and  fix  them  on  this  alone.  "  Let  all  the 
house  of  Israel,"  let  all  the  world,  "  know  assuredly  that  this  Jesus^ 
who  was  crucified,  is  both  Lord  and  Christ ;  and  they  who  believe  in 
him  are  justified  from  all  things."  In  the  land  of  Israel  there  were 
several  cities  of  refuge,  and  the  criminal  might  flee  to  that  which  was 
nearest :  but  there  exists  only  one  for  us ;  one  "  hope  set  before  us, 
to  which  we  must  flee  for  refuge  ;"  one  "  Man  who  is  a  covert  from 
the  storm,  a  shadow  from  the  heat."  In  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  you 
may  obtain  present  peace  :  beholding  Him,  you  may  die  with  tranquil- 
lity and  joy  ;  and  rise,  through  Him,  to  the  mansions  of  eternal  glory. 
Behold,  therefore,  ve  sinners  ready  to  perish,  "behold  the  Lamb  of 
God" 

How  is  it  possible  that  those  can  escape  "  who  neglect  this  great 
salvation,  which  at  first  was  spoken  by  the  Lord,  God  himself  bearing 
witness  with  signs  and  wonders,  the  gifts  of  his  own  Spirit  V  Not  to 
behold  such  an  object  is  "  to  have  eyes,  and  not  to  see  :"  not  to 
attend  to  such  a  call  is  "  to  have  ears,  and  not  to  hear  I"  Better  not 
to  have  eyes,  and  see  ;  better  not  to  have  cars,  and  hear ;  better  not  to 
have  an  understanding,  a  heart,  a  sentient  nature  capable  of  thought 
and  feeling ;  better  to  be  numbered  with  the  brutes,  or  to  be  a  mere 
plant,  or  stone,  than  not  to  believe  this  divine  report, — than  to  remain 
one  to  whom  this  "  arm  of  the  Lord"  is  not  revealed, — than  to  see  in 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  441 

Christ  "  no  beauty  that  you  should  desire  him,"  to  regard  him  "  as  a 
root  in  a  dry  ground,"  instead  of  discerning  in  such  a  Saviour,  "  the 
power  of  God,  the  wisdom  of  God .'" 

2.  But  there  is  a  second  class  of  persons  among  mankind — those 
who  have  repented  and  believed ;  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  has  an  equal 
claim  to  the  continued  and  earnest  regard  of  his  believing  followers. 

Some  benefits  we  receive  in  such  a  manner  that  any  further  atten- 
tion to  their  cause  is  unnecessary ;  no  motive  but  gratitude  requires 
us  to  think  of  them  again  ;  they  are  complete,  whether  or  not  we 
recur  to  their  origin.  This  is  not  the  case  with  the  benefits  conferred 
by  Jesus  Christ.  Besides  the  claim  oi gratitude,  which  ought  to  out- 
last the  immediate  operation  of  benefits  received — (for  we  should  think 
it  unnatural  in  a  son  to  forget  his  parents  as  soon  as  they  were  in  the 
grave), — here  we  are  dependent  on  our  Benefactor  for  a  continuity  of 
blessings.  It  is  not  enough  to  have  regarded  him  at  first  as  the  only 
Source  of  pardon  and  salvation :  he  is  as  necessary  to  us  from  day  to 
day  as  when  we  first  believed  in  him.  He  is  not  a  Saviour  whom  we 
may  forget,  having  once  for  all  received  his  benefits  :  he  is  the  Source 
of  continual  energy  through  the  whole  of  our  career.  The  Bread  of 
Life  can  no  more  be  dispensed  with  in  the  spiritual  life  than  in  the 
natural :  in  respect  to  the  one  as  well  as  to  the  other,  we  must  say, 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily,"  or,  as  the  original  word  signifies,  our 
essential  "  bread  !"  "  Lord,  evermore  give  us  this  bread  !"  We  must 
apply  for  perpetual  repetitions  of  our  Saviour's  pardoning  grace,  and 
justifying  merit,  corresponding  with  our  perpetual  transgressions  and 
deficiencies.  The  spiritual  life  of  a  Christian  can  only  be  maintained 
in  its  vigour  by  a  ceaseless  emanation  from  Jesus  Christ.  "The  life 
which  I  7WIV  live,"  says  the  apostle  Paul,  "  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the 
Son  of  God  :  it  is  not  I  that  live,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me."  In  other 
words,  he  was  continually  "  beholding  the  Lamb  of  God."  Every 
Christian  partakes  of  his  experience,  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  feels  the 
same  need  of  Christ, — of  his  example,  his  doctrine,  and  especially  of 
his  atonement, — which  he  felt  at  first,  when  he  fled  alarmed  and  dis- 
tressed to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  When  the  rock  was  smitten  in  Horeb, 
the  water  continued  to  flow  through  the  wilderness  for  the  constant 
supply  of  the  Israelites  ;  and  they  drank  of  that  water  daily,  until  they 
reached  the  promised  Canaan.  "That  rock  was  Christ;"  and  thus 
we  must  daily  drink  of  the  spiritual  streams  that  flow  from  Him.  We 
must  look  unto  Him,  and  we  shall  then  be  lightened,  and  our  faces  not 
ashamed.  AVhen  our  Saviour,  in  his  great  condescension  and  humility, 
washed  the  feet  of  his  disciples,  Peter  at  first  refused,  saying,  "  Lord, 
thou  shall  never  wash  my  feet."  On  this,  our  Saviour  replied,  "  If  I 
wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part  in  me."  "  Lord,"  said  Peter,  "  not 
my  feet  only,  but  also  my  hands  and  my  head."  This  our  Lord  de- 
clined, observing,  "  He  that  is  washed,  needeth  not  save  to  wash  his 
feet ;  and  now  ye  are  clean."  This  implies,  in  the  spiritual  applica- 
tion which  it  was  probably  designed  to  receive,  that  after  having  bathed 
at  our  first  repentance  in  the  fountain  of  that  blood  which  "cJeanseth 
from  all  sin,"  we  must  still  repair  to  the  same  for  constant  purification 


442  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

from  those  innumerable  defilements  which,  by  our  frailty,  we  cannot 
but  contract  in  our  walk  through  the  present  world.  Even  the  clean 
require  to  be  again  and  again  purified.  The  sins  of  a  single  day  would 
be  sufficient  to  condemn  us :  weighed  in  the  balance,  we  should  be 
found  wanting.  The  believer  never  subsists  on  an  independent  source 
of  his  own — he  lives  hy  faith  :  faith  is  not  the  reservoir,  but  the  habit- 
ual receiver.  He  is  continually  directing  his  eye  towards  Hun  in  whom 
it  has  pleased  the  Father  that  all  fulness  should  dwell,  and  that  out  of 
that  fulness  we  all  should  receive  even  grace  for  grace  ;  grace  in  the 
streams,  corresponding  with  grace  in  the  fountain.  Let  us  live  more 
by  faith  in  Christ;  "the just  shall  live  by  faith:"  it  is  the  safest  and 
the  happiest  life.  On  every  occasion  of  infirmity  and  distress,  let  us 
renew  our  application  to  that  Saviour  who  said,  in  answer  to  the  com- 
plaint of  his  apostle,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  my  strength  is 
perfect  in  thy  weakness."  "  Most  gladly,  therefore,"  adds  the  en- 
couraged apostle,  "  will  I  glory  even  in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power 
of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me."  The  moment  we  forget  our  dependence  -■ 
on  Christ,  and  are  puffed  up  with  a  conceit  of  our  own  merit  or 
strength,  we  are  in  danger  of  falling  into  the  snares  of  Satan. 

3.  Having  dwelt  the  longeron  the  more  direct  and  obvious  applica- 
tion of  the  doctrine  taught  by  John  the  Baptist  in  the  text,  to  the  two 
classes  of  mankind,  as  either  impenitent  sinners  or  justified  believers, 
we  may  extend  the  exclamation,  in  the  third  place,  to  the  redeemed  in 
the  world  of  glory.  From  them,  no  less  than  from  their  brethren  on 
earth,  "  the  Lamb  of  God"  claims  the  highest  degree  of  admiring  regard. 
He  retains  this  appellation,  as  we  learn  from  the  last  book  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  his  present  exalted  state ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that  the  name 
which  expresses  his  humiliation  to  the  death  of  the  cross  is  selected 
as  the  name  under  which  he  is  adored  in  the  world  of  glory  :  "  I  be- 
held," says  John,  "  and  lo,  a  multitude,  which  no  man  could  number, 
gathered  from  all  nations,  stood  before  the  throne  and  before  the  Lamb : 
and  they  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying.  Salvation  to  our  God  and  to 
the  Lamb  !  Blessing,  and  glory,  and  wisdom,  and  power  he  unto  Him 
that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and  ever  !"  It 
is  strange  that  any  should  be  found  who,  calling  themselves  Chris- 
tians, refuse  to  pay  Jesus  Christ  that  worship  here  on  earth  which  he 
is  represented  in  these  passages  as  receiving  in  heaven!  Such  per- 
sons, if  they  are  admitted  into  heaven,  will  have  indeed  to  learn  a  new 
song,  for  they  must  learn  a  neio  religion  !  But  you,  my  dear  brethren, 
•'  have  not  so  learned  Christ :"  you  know  that  the  Redeemer  holds  the 
most  distinguished  place  in  the  world  of  glory;  he  sits  at  the  right- 
hand  of  God  ;  he  is  the  centre  of  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  ;  his 
presence  constitutes  to  the  redeemed  the  principal  c/u/rm  of  heaven.  It 
was  his  own  desire  "  that  those  whom  the  Father  had  given  him  may 
be  with  him  lohere  he  is,  and  may  there  behold  his  glory.''''  It  is  only  in 
him  that  the  Deity  is  visible :  "  No  man  hath  seen  God,  nor  can  see  ; 
he  dwells  in  light  which  no  man  can  approach  :  the  only-begotten  Son 
has  declared  him."  Deity  requires  to  be  shaded  and  softened,  by  put- 
ting on  the  vail  of  our  nature,  l)efore  it  can  be  suited  to  our  feeble  per- 
ception :  the  glory  of  the  Lord  must  shine  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ. 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  448 

We  read  concerning  the  redeemed  inhabitants  of  heaven,  that  "  they 
hunger  no  more,  nor  thirst  any  more  ;  because  the  Lamb,  who  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne,  feeds  them  with  the  bread  of  hfe,  and  leads  them 
to  fountains  of  living  water :"  a  description  which  implies  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  himself  the  source  of  celestial  beatitude. 

4.  But  in  the  fourth  place,  there  is  yet  another  order  of  beings  to 
whom  "the  Lamb  of  God"  presents  an  object  of  peculiar  attention  and 
profound  admiration.  The  holy  angels, — that  innumerable  company 
of  spirits  who  "  excel  in  strength," — are  represented  as  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  service  and  glory  of  the  Redeemer.  From  its  infancy, 
they  watched  with  anxiety  the  fortunes  of  the  rising  church.  They 
announced  the  birth  of  Christ  with  exulting  strains  ;  they  ministered  to 
Christ  in  the  scenes  of  his  temptation,  his  agony,  and  his  burial ;  they 
cheered  his  apostles  with  the  first  tidings  of  his  resurrection,  "  He  is 
not  here,  he  is  risen."  Even  after  his  ascension,  they  still  lingered 
with  a  compassionate  concern  among  his  sorrowing  disciples,  and 
assured  them  of  his  final  return  :  "  Why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into 
heaven  ?  This  same  Jesus  shall  come  again  in  like  manner  as  ye  have 
seen  him  go  into  heaven."  And  in  that  day  of  his  final  return,  "when 
the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  his  glory,"  there  shall  be  "  all  the  holy 
angels  with  him."  Accordingly,  among  the  glories  which  accompany 
the  manifestation  of  God  in  the  flesh,  the  apostle  enumerates  this, — 
that  "  He  was  seen  of  angels  :"  and  he  represents  the  Father  as  intro- 
ducing the  Son  into  the  world  with  this  procUimation,  "  Let  all  the 
angels  of  God  worship  him."  It  is  not  improbable  that  those  glorious 
beings  are  themselves,  in  some  respect,  involved  in  the  blessings  of  that 
stupendous  plan  by  which  "things  in  heaven"  are  gathered  together  in 
one  centre  with  "  things  on  earth."  Angels  may  probably  be  secured 
in  that  felicity  to  which  saints  are  promoted,  by  the  mediation  of  Jesus 
Christ:  and  certainly  the  former  are  described  as  taking  part  with  the 
latter  in  the  songs  of  praise  to  the  Lamb.  "  I  heard,"  says  John,  "  the 
voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and  their  number  was 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  and  thousands  of  thousands,  saying, 
with  a  loud  voice.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain." 

5.  Finally,  there  is  a  Being  of  another  order,  a  Being  infinitely  ex- 
alted above  any  of  those  already  mentioned,  whose  attention  is  deeply 
engaged  by  the  object  presented  in  the  text : — God  himself  is  concerned, 
supremely  concerned,  in  the  contemplation  of  "  the  Lamb  of  God." 
To  Hijn  the  Redeemer  is  an  object,  not  indeed  of  admiration,  since 
the  Divine  Being  can  admire  nothing,  but  of  infinite  complacency  and 
satisfaction.  On  two  conspicuous  occasions  in  the  ministry  of  Jesus 
Christ, — at  his  baptism  and  at  his  transfiguration, — did  the  Eternal 
Father  proclaim,  by  a  voice  from  heaven,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased  :  hear  Him  .'"  In  every  part  of  revelation  we 
find  the  Son  of  God  represented  by  the  Father  as  the  object  of  his 
dearest,  his  most  intense  interest.  "  Behold,"  says  he,  "  my  servant 
whom  I  have  chosen !  mine  elect,  in  whom  my  soul  delighteth  !" 
"Why  do  the  heathen  rage,  and  the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing?  The 
kings  of  the  earth  take  counsel  against  the  Lord,  and  against  his 
Anointed ;  He  that  sitteth  in  heaven  shall  laugh  them  to  scorn :  then 


444  CIVIL  GOVERNMENTS  CONTRASTED 

shall  he  speak  unto  them  in  liis  wrath,  Yet  have  I  set  my  King  upon 
my  holy  hill  of  Sion :  be  wise,  therefore,  ye  kings  ;  kiss  the  Son,  lest 
he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish !"  In  the  opening  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  we  read  that  "  God  hath  appointed  his  Son,  who  is  the  bright- 
ness of  his  glory,  the  heir  of  all  things  ;"  and  that,  "  to  the  Son  he 
saith.  Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever  ;  a  sceptre  of  righteous- 
ness is  the  sceptre  of  thy  kingdom:  and  thou.  Lord,  in  the  beginning 
hast  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  work 
of  thy  hands  :  they  shall  perish,  but  thou  remainest !"  It  seems  as  if 
the  Divine  Mind  were  concentrated — as  if  all  the  Deity  were  busied  and 
intent — in  the  scene  of  redemption  and  the  person  of  the  Redeemer ! 
It  seems  as  if  the  Great  Eternal  could  find  no  other  medium  in  which 
he  might  pour  out  the  whole  treasury  of  his  perfections, — satisfy  his 
infinite  conceptions  and  desires,  display  and  harmonize  all  his  various 
attributes — his  holiness,  his  justice,  his  mercy,  and  his  love, — than 
Jesus  Christ,  "  the  power  and  the  wisdom  of  God  !"  Here  he  shines 
in  his  complete  and  blended  glory, — at  once  the  "just  God,"  and  the 
justifying  Saviour  of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus  Christ.  Here,  doubt- 
less, is  presented  an  object  the  most  glorious  and  delightful  in  the  uni- 
verse of  God  !  There  is  reason  to  believe  that,  in  a  inoral  (that  is,  in 
the  highest)  point  of  view,  the  Redeemer,  in  the  depth  of  his  humilia- 
tion, was  a  greater  object  of  attention  and  approbation,  in  the  eye  of 
his  Father,  than  when  he  sat  in  his  original  glory  at  God's  right-hand ; 
the  one  being  his  natural,  the  other  peculiarly  his  moral  elevation. 

Encompassed  by  so  great  a  cloud  of  vvitnesses,  summoned  by  so 
many  powerful  voices,  let  us  all  more  earnestly  than  ever  attend  to 
this  incomparable  object :  so  shall  we  be  prepared  for  the  trials  of  life, 
the  agonies  of  death,  the  solemnities  of  the  judgment,  and  the  fehcities 
of  the  eternal  world ;  so  shall  we  inherit  the  unsearchable  treasures 
of  grace  and  glory. 


XIV. 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  CONTRASTED 
WITH  THE  BLESSINGS  OF  THE  SPIRITUAL  KINGDOM  OF 
JESUS  CHRIST.* 

2  Sam.  vii.  16,  17. — Thine  house  and  thy  kingdom  shall  be  established  for 
ever  before  thee  :■  thy  throne  shall  be  established  for  ever.  According  to 
all  these  words,  and  according  to  all  this  vision,  so  did  Nathan  speak  unto 
David. 

[preached    at   bridge-street  MEErrNG,  BRISTOL,  SEPTEMBER,   1322,  FOR  THE 
BENEFIT    OF    THE    LONDON    MISSIONARY    SOCIETY.] 

These  words,  you  are  aware,  are  part  of  the  message  which  the 
Lord  addressed  to  David  by  the  mouth  of  Nathan,  at  the  lime  when 

♦Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield. 


WITH  THE  SPIRITUAL  KINGDOM.  445 

David  meditated  the  raising  of  a  temple  to  tlie  Lord.  He  was  not 
indeed  permitted  to  execute  that  design,  but  the  Lord  accepted  him 
"according  to  all  that  was  in  his  heart;''''  and  commissioned  the 
prophet  Nathan  to  assure  him,  that  his  throne  and  kingdom  should  be 
confirmed,  without  interruption  or  termination,  to  his  lineal  successors, 
without  ever  again  suffering  such  an  instance  of  the  departure  of  Divine 
favour  as  that  which  had  occurred  in  the  removal  of  the  famdy  of 
Saul  from  the  throne :  "  Thy  throne  shall  be  established  for  ever." 
This  promise  was  verified  to  the  successors  of  David  in  so  extra- 
ordinary a  manner,  as  compels  us  to  regard  their  history  as  an  example 
of  the  particular  intention  and  interposition  of  God's  providence.  The 
direct  line  of  succession  was  preserved  unbroken  (with  a  single  ex- 
ception, that  of  Athaliah,*  wliich  was  of  short  continuance),  in  the 
house  of  David  ;  and,  while  the  history  of  the  kings  of  Israel  (after 
the  separation  of  the  ten  tribes  under  Rehoboam's  reign)  becomes  a 
subject  of  some  perplexity  by  perpetual  irregularities  in  the  succes- 
sion, it  is  remarkable  that  the  kings  of  Judah  succeed  each  other  in 
perfect  order,  during  a  period  of  five  hundred  years.  It  is  true,  that 
during  a  long  interval, — from  the  captivity  to  the  incarnation  of  our 
blessed  Lord, — the  throne  of  Judah,  as  well  as  that  of  Israel,  fell  into 
a  state  of  deep  decline  and  depression,  so  that  the  traces  of  its  history 
are  almost  extinct :  yet  still  the  house  of  David  existed,  it  was  still 
preserved  and  knoum ;  the  kingdom  was  in  a  state  of  abeyance, — of 
suspended,  not  abolished  exercise :  and  it  was  resumed  and  renewed, 
and  improved  into  higher  glories  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
true,  spiritual,  substantial  David;  of  whose  kingdom  (it  cannot  reason- 
ably be  doubted  by  any)  that  of  David  himself  was  at  once  a  type  and 
a.  part.  The  empire  of  Christ  was  the  sequel  and  consummatioii  of 
that  which  had  originated  in  the  son  of  Jesse ;  and  hence  our  Saviour 
is  so  often  styled  the  Soii  of  David.  The  angel  at  his  nativity  an- 
nounced him  as  "  He  who  should  be  great,  and  should  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  his  father  David,  and  of  whose  kingdom  there  should  be  no 
end ;"  while  the  evangelists,  for  the  same  reason,  take  pains  to  con- 
vince us  that  he  descended  from  David  by  an  exact  genealogy.  The 
perpetuity  so  emphatically  promised  in  tlie  text  and  many  other  places 
to  the  kingdom  of  David  immediately  pointed  to  the  everlasting  reign 
of  Messiah,  to  which  alone  that  attribute  could  strictly  belong.  Our 
Saviour  inherited  this  empire,  not  in  consequence  of  his  essential  divinity, 
but  of  his  incarnation  and  his  mediatorial  undertaking.  His  divinity, 
of  which  I  trust  all  present  are  deeply  convinced,  was  a  requisite 
indeed,  but  it  was  not  (properly  speaking)  the  cause  of  his  receiving 
and  exercising  this  spiritual  dominion.  Unless  he  had  been  a  person 
of  the  most  Holy  Trinity,  it  is  evident  he  could  not  have  sustained  a 
sovereignty  which  requires  universal  knowledge  and  power :  but  his 
Deity  could  not  have  been  the  reason  of  his  sustaining  it ;  or  else  the 
Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  being  each  Divine,  must  have  inherited 
this  throne  as  well  as  the  Son  of  God.  If  all  power  was  committed 
to  him,  it  was   (as  he  declares)  because  he  was  the  Son  of  Man. 

*  2  Kings  chap.  xi. 


446  CIVIL  GOVERNMENTS  CONTRASTED 

Like  the  typical  David,  He  approached  and  ascended  to  his  throne 
through  much  difficulty  and  suffering ;  he  had  to  combat  and  conquer 
many  and  maUcious  enemies  ;  though,  during  his  ministry  on  earth,  he 
gathered  about  him  a  few  friends  and  followers  (as  David  had  also 
done,  amid  the  persecutions  of  Saul),  it  was  not  until  he  had  risen 
from  the  grave,  and  was  ready  to  ascend  to  heaven,  that  he  could  use 
that  triumphant  language,  '■'■All  power  is  given  unto  Me  in  heaven  and 
in  earth !"  The  commencement  of  his  reign  may  be  dated  from  his 
resurrection,  or  from  his  session  at  the  Father's  right-hand :  it  was 
then  the  Father  said,  "  Sit  thou  on  my  right-hand,  until  I  make  thine 
enemies  thy  footstool."  Ever  since  that  era  he  has  continued  and 
advanced  his  empire ;  and  (as  the  apostle  observes),  He  must  go  on 
reigning  until  "  he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet." 

In  the  following  remarks,  let  me  request  your  candid  attention, — 
Jirst,  to  the  principal  advantages  to  be  expected  in  a  well-ordered 
government  on  earth  ;  and  then  to  the  corresponding,  and  infinitely  more 
important  advantages  ^vhich  may  be  enjoyed  under  the  spiritual 
government  of  Jesus  Christ. 

1.  The  first  and  primary  advantage  expected  from  every  well-con- 
stituted human  government  is  security,  and  the  sense  of  security.  The 
depravity  of  our  nature  has  introduced  such  a  universal  selfishness  and 
rapacity  among  mankind  in  their  natural  state,  that  men  in  every  age 
and  country  have  been  convinced  of  the  expediency  and  necessity  of 
attempting  to  organize  some  form  of  government  for  the  purpose  of  their 
common  security.  While  every  individual  is  left  to  exert  his  own 
power  as  he  chooses,  none  can  be  secure  either  in  his  property  or 
person :  it  becomes  absolutely  indispensable,  therefore,  if  men  would 
escape  the  intolerable  evils  of  such  a  state,  to  collect  and  imbody  this 
scattered  and  uncertain  force  of  the  many,  in  some  public  depositary 
of  power :  such  a  provision  is  necessary  for  the  protection  and  preser- 
vation of  every  community.  Hence  almost  all  nations,  even  the  most 
uncivilized,  have  attempted  some  constitution  of  this  kind,  however 
rude,  for  the  prevention  or  the  redress  of  those  injuries  to  which  the 
subjects  were  continually  liable  by  the  passions  of  our  nature.  Where 
the  supreme  power  is  lodged  in  the  person  of  one,  the  government  is 
called  a  monarchy ;  where  it  is  reposed  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  an 
aristocracy ;  and  where  the  people  share  it  in  common  among  them- 
selves, it  becomes  a  democracy.  W^hatever  may  be  the  imperfections 
attaching  to  each  of  these  modes  of  government,  the  iL^orst  is  preferable 
to  a  state  of  society  destitute  of  public  authority  and  law :  in  such  a 
state  there  can  exist  not  only  no  security,  but  no  tranquillity ;  it  must 
be  a  state  of  perpetual  apprehension  and  terror,  in  which  none  would 
feel  themselves  free  to  pursue  either  the  arts  of  life  or  the  acquisitions 
of  trade.  Even  when  an  individual  might  himself  escape  for  a  time 
the  assaults  of  rapacity,  in  such  a  state  he  would  have  to  endure 
(what  would  be  perhaps  to  some  a  still  greater  evil)  the  fearful 
expectation  of  his  turn  to  suflcr ;  and  the  nearer  he  beheld  the  acts  of 
outrage,  the  deeper  must  be  the  impression  of  alarm  on  his  mind,  just 
as  (if  an  humble  illustration  may  be  excused)  when  a  stone  is  thrown 


WITH  THE   SPIRITUAT.  KINGDOM.  447 

into  water,  while  the  agitation  is  greatest  at  the  spot  where  it  falls, 
the  effect  extends  in  the  circles  that  are  formed  around,  though  it  be- 
comes more  and  more  faint  as  they  recede  farther  from  the  centre. 

But  the  utmost  degree  of  personal  security  that  can  be  enjoyed  under 
any  form  of  civil  power  is  a  most  imperfect  shadow  of  the  safety 
which  Jesus  Christ  bestows  upon  the  subjects  of  his  spiritual  reign. 
Until  a  man  submits  to  His  mediatorial  authority,  he  remains  exposed 
to  unutterable  evils.  He  ought  to  feel  perpetual  anxiety  and  alarm  ; 
for,  in  the  declared  judgment  of  God,  he  is  in  a  state  of  condemnation 
and  death :  "  he  that  believelh  not  in  the  Son  of  God  is  condemned 
already;''^  he  that  is  not  "quickened  together  with  Christ  Jesus"  is 
"  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins :"  he  is  a  criminal  under  sentence  of 
execution,  and  only  respited  for  a  brief  and  uncertain  period  ;  the 
sword  of  Divine  justice,  suspended  over  him,  may  fall  at  any  moment, 
and  he  is  lost  for  ever.  This  is  certainly  the  condition  of  every  un- 
converted sinner,  every  one  that  has  not  yielded  himself  a  willing 
subject  to  Jesus  Christ  his  Lord.  But  "  kiss  the  Son  ;"  yield  yourself 
as  such  a  subject  to  Him;  and  from  that  moment  you  are  placed  in 
a  state  of  perfect  security  ;  you  are  saved  with  a  great  salvation,  pro- 
tected from  the  wrath  of  God,  from  the  dread  of  eternity,  from  the 
misery  of  sin ;  according  to  the  prophet's  beautiful  description  of  our 
Saviour, — "  In  that  day  a  King  shall  reign  in  righteousness  ;  and  a 
Man  shall  be  as  a  covert  from  the  storm,  as  the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock  in  a  weary  land."  The  subjects  of  Jesus  Christ,  justified  by 
faith,  have  peace  with  God.  The  last  donation  he  promised  his  dis- 
ciples was  peace  : — "  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ;  my  peace  I  give  unto 
you  :  not  as  the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you." — "  My  peace  1" — the 
same  peace  which  filled  the  bosom  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  when, 
having  finished  his  work,  he  was  acknowl-edged  by  the  Father  as  his 
"  beloved  Son  in  whom  he  was  well  pleased."  For,  "  because  ye  are 
sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the  Spirit  of  His  Son  into  your  hearts," — 
of  His  Son,  the  first-born  of  many  hretJiren.  And  (as  the  apostle 
argues)  "  if  God  be  for  us,  who  shall  be  against  us  ?  Who  shall  lay 
any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect  ?  Shall  God  that  justifieth  ? 
Who  is  he  that  condemneth  ?  Christ  that  died,  yea,  rather  that  is 
risen  for  us  ?  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is 
in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord  ?"  The  church  of  Christ,  as  a  collective 
society,  is  invested  with  absolute  security  ;  it  is  a  city  on  whose  walls 
is  engraven  the  name,  "  Jehovah  Shammah,  the  Lord  is  there  !" 
It  stands  fast  "like  Mount  Sion  that  cannot  be  moved :^^  it  is  founded 
on  a  Rock,  and  that  Rock  is  Christ :  He  has  "  all  power  in  heaven  and 
earth"  for  its  preservation ;  and  not  "  the  gates  of  hell  shall  prevail 
against  it."  But  a  portion  of  this  general  security  of  the  body  belongs 
to  every  member  of  it ;  every  believer  in  Christ  enjoys  the  same  ;  and, 
as  he  grows  in  grace  and  knowledge,  he  enjoys  also  the  sense  of  this 
securit}^ ;  he  feels  himself  at  peace  with  God ;  this  peace  Jceeps  and 
fortifies  his  heart  and  mind  against  every  assailing  trouble ;  and,  on 
the  most  trying  occasions,  he  learns  to  say  with  humble  confidence, 
"  I  will  go  forth  in  the  strens-th  of  the  Lord." 


448  CIVIL  GOVERNMENTS  CONTRASTED 

2.  The  second  benefit  expected  from  human  governments  is  liberty. 
So  far  as  this  advantage  is  consistent  with  the  former,  or  with  the 
pubUc  security,  ih.e  more  largely  it  is  enjoyed  the  better.  Every  dimi- 
nution of  liberty,  except  such  as  is  necessary  to  our  protection  from 
evils  which  might  otherwise  be  apprehended,  is  itself  just  so  much 
redundant  evil.  All  wanton,  all  merely  arbitrary  restrictions  upon  the 
freedom  of  individuals  are  to  be  regarded  as  some  of  the  greatest 
calamities  which  mankind  can  sustain  from  each  other;  inasmuch 
as  they  strike  directly  at  those  principles  of  free  thought  and  action 
which  are  the  sources  of  all  noble  enterprise,  energy,  and  excellence. 
Restraint,  that  cannot  be  justified  by  the  production  of  some  greater 
benefit  than  could  be  attained  without  it,  is  not  imperfection  ;  it  is 
injustice.  But,  suppose  the  utmost  possible  degree  of  civil  liberty  en- 
joyed, what  is  it  in  comparison  with  that  spiritual,  real  freedom  which 
Jesus  Christ  confers  ?  The  former  is,  at  the  best,  only  an  external,  cir- 
cumstantial blessing ;  it  does  not  enter  into  tlie  inner  man.  But  "  if 
the  Son  shall  make  you  free,  you  shall  be  free  indeed:''^  "where  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,"  there  is  the  only  true  liberty.  The  Christian  is 
the  genuine  freeman,  and  none  besides  is  such  except  in  name.  His 
indeed  is  a  glorious  liberty :  from  the  moment  he  enters  into  the  king- 
dom of  grace  and  truth,  he  is  loosed  out  of  prison,  and  leaves  his  bonds 
behind  ;  invigorated  with  a  divine  strength,  he  purposes,  and  it  stands 
fast ;  he  triumphs  over  himself;  he  is  victorious  over  the  world  with 
all  its  allurements  or  afflictions  ;  he  tramples  upon  the  greatest  tyrants, 
— the  powers  of  darkness,  the  rulers  of  the  disobedient ;  from  that  mo- 
ment he  is  emancipated  from  the  spirit  of  bondage  ;  he  walks  at  lib- 
erty ;  he  can  look  beyond  the  grave  ;  humble  and  yet  confident,  pros- 
trate and  yet  not  confounded,  even  in  the  prospect  of  appearing  before 
God ;  and  having  overcome  all,  he  "  sits  down  in  heavenly  places  with 
Jesus  Christ," — even  as  He  also,  having  overcome  all  by  death,  sat 
down  iji  glory  at  the  right-hand  of  his  Father.  This  is  a  perfect  lib- 
erty :  not  an  evil  can  be  felt  or  feared  but  it  may  be  thus  removed. 
This  is  an  immortal,  everlasting  liberty  ;  a  freedom  which  confers  on  its 
possessors  the  sublime  title  of  "  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Lord 
God  Almighty." 

3.  The  next  advantage  derived  from  a  good  government  is  plenty. 
To  secure  this  advantage,  you  are  aware  that  there  are  arrangements 
in  nature,  in  a  great  measure  independent  of  human  institutions,  and 
beyond  the  control  of  human  policy.  But  perhaps,  in  this  respect, 
there  has  been  often  much  error  ou  the  part  of  those  in  power.  In 
general,  it  may  be  asserted  that  human  laws  should  not  interfere  too 
much:  no  set  of  men  can  be  supposed  to  understand  the  interests  of 
particular  classes  as  iccU  as  the  individuals  concerned  understand  their 
own  interests.  Every  one  should  be  left  at  liberty,  as  far  as  possible, 
to  choose  his  own  way  in  pursuing  his  own  prosperity  ;  and  tlie  aggre- 
gate prosperity  of  the  nation  will  be  best  consulted  by  allowing  the 
utmost  scope  to  that  of  every  individual.  The  prevailing  tendency  in 
every  government  is,  to  legislate  too  much  :  and  here,  it  may  just  be 
remarked,  there    are  two  obvious  evils  to  be  avoided ;   those  who 


WITH  THE  SPIRITUAL  KINGDOM.  449 

legislate  should  be  careful,  in  the  first  place,  not  to  lay  on  too  many 
impositions ;  and  secondly,  not  to  introduce  any  unnecessary  restric' 
tions.  The  utmost  that  human  wisdom  can  achieve  must  be  imperfect ; 
under  the  best  system  of  government,  there  must  remain  many  cases 
of  poverty  and  distress ;  but  in  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ  there  ex- 
ists an  infinite  ijlenty  of  all  the  provisions  that  can  be  desired  for  all 
the  wants  of  the  soul.  None  are  neglected  here  :  the  poorest  may  be 
enriched  beyond  the  most  splendid  opulence  of  this  world,  even  with 
"  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;"  as  the  apostles,  "  thougli  poor, 
could  make  many  rich, — though  they  liad  nothing,  they  possessed  all 
things^  For  in  Jesus  Christ  "  all  fulness"  dwells,  for  the  supply  of 
spiritual  destitution.  "  Fulness"  of  knowledge :  knowledge  is  the 
great  distinction  of  the  mind, — and  here  is  all  spiritual  knowledge. 
Christ  is  himself  the  imsdom  of  God  ;  to  know  Him  is  to  attain  at  once 
the  highest  knowledge ;  it  is  to  have  the  Spirit  which  "  searcheth  all 
things,  even  the  deep  things  of  God,"  and  ultimately  to  '■'■knoio  even  as 
we  are  known.''''  "  Fulness"  of  holiness :  holiness  is  the  proper  riches 
and  beauty  of  the  soul ;  and  the  subjects  of  Christ  are  created  anew  in 
holiness  after  His  image.  "  Fulness"  of  consolation  :  the  greatest 
comforts  that  ever  visited  the  troubled  heart  of  man  are  those  which 
flow  from  Christ  as  their  fountain  ;  it  is  He  who  has  brought  to  light 
consolations  entirely  7ieio,  such  as  had  never  before  entered  into  the 
thoughts  of  men ;  and  well  might  he  say,  "  Let  not  your  hearts  be 
troubled ;  ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me."  "  Fulness,"  once 
more,  as  it  respects  the  inheritance  in  reserve  ; — "  an  inheritance  incor- 
ruptible,  undefined,  and  that  fadeth  not  away ;"  of  which  the  saints  have 
at  certain  seasons  a  present  sense  and  foretaste,  though  the  light  of 
eternity  is  required  to  display  its  real  extent, — to  display  the  accessible 
fulness  of  the  present  Saviour.  These  are  durable  treasures  :  they  can 
never  be  taken  away  from  us, — they  form  part  of  ourselves, — they  are 
carried  about  with  us  where  we  go ;  no  moth  corrupts,  no  thief 
invades.  There  can  exist  no  distinction  here  between  the  rich  and  the 
poor ;  no  room  for  the  frown  of  pride,  or  luxurious  excess  on  the  one 
side,  while  we  behold  despised  poverty  and  pining  want  on  the  other : 
all  is  equality  and  ttnity,  the  consequence  of  unlimited  abundance, — 
abundance  commensurate  with  all  the  demands  of  a  perishing  universe. 

4.  A  tendency  to  improvcmc?it  in  its  social  institutions  is  a  fourth 
benefit  which  ought  to  accompany  every  well-ordered  government. 
The  best  of  those  institutions  are  such  as  will  be  at  once  permanent 
and  progressive,  by  their  intrinsic  Avisdom  and  excellence, — by  their 
adaptation  to  all  the  varying  circumstances  of  the  nation, — by  their 
power  of  providing  for  unseen  and  possible  emergencies :  they  will 
gradually  rise  from  security  to  convenience,  and  then  exalt  conve- 
nience into  ornament — into  just  refinement  and  diff'used  illumination : 
such  has  been  the  aim  of  the  greatest  legislators.  Under  the  scorching 
climate  of  despotism  all  the  fruits  of  the  mind  are  withered  ;  a  dull 
monotony  prevails  in  the  moral  scene ;  the  powers  of  men,  unable  to 
expand,  attain  only  a  dwarfish  growth:  while  in  a  free  state,  where 
liberty  of  thought  is  allowed  to  3 11,  the  faculties  and  virtues  have  room 

Vol.  Ill— F  f 


450  CIVIL  GOVERNMENTS  CONTRASTED 

for  exercise, — they  flourish  as  in  a  chmate  congenial  with  theirnature ; 
and  such,  on  the  whole,  is  eminently  the  condition  of  this  favoured  and 
distinguished  country. 

But  the  difference  between  the  most  moral  and  the  most  flagitious 
of  natural  characters  is  less  than  the  difference  that  subsists  between 
the  subjects  of  Jesus  Clirist  and  the  children  of  tliis  world  ;  because 
the  latter  is  the  difference  between  the  spiritually  dead  and  living. 
"  The  wisdom  of  God"  is  discovered  to  those  only  who  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ ;  all  others  sit  in  darkness  :  for,  "  after  that,  in  the  wisdom  of 
God,  the  world  by  wisdom  knew  not  God,  it  pleased  God  by  the  fool- 
ishness of  preaching  to  save  them  that  believe."  We  see  this  verified 
in  all  the  history  of  nations.  Without  pretending  to  determine  how  far 
human  reason  may  proceed  alone,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  the 
least  instructed  portion  of  every  country  in  which  Christianity  is  pro- 
fessed possess  far  juster  views  of  the  leading  truths  of  religion, — 
such  as  the  character  of  God,  the  nature  of  sin,  the  obligation  of 
virtue,  the  eternal  world, — than  ever  were  entertained  by  the  most 
inquiring  pagans.  The  great  abstractions  of  the  gospel  were  never 
touched  by  man, — they  remained  shut  up  in  the  bosom  of  Deity  ;  and 
there  they  must  have  remained  for  ever,  had  not  He  disclosed  them  by 
Jesus  Christ,  tlie  Light  of  the  world.  They  surpass  the  natural  mind 
in  its  widest  excursions,  its  profoundest  researches,  its  sublimest 
elevations.  Yet  these  are  the  vital,  essential  principles  of  the  soul, — 
these  are  the  germs  of  all  excellence  and  happiness, — these,  wherever 
they  are  known,  are  found  to  have  a  purifying  and  an  exalting  influence 
upon  mankind, — i/^e^e  effectually  tend  to  moralize  and  beautify  society . 
The  gospel  empire  possesses  in  itself  interminahlc  energies,  and 
tendencies  to  benefit  its  subjects.  No  otltcr  reason  can  be  assigned 
why  our  country  and  Europe  should  differ  so  greatly  from  the  ancient 
nations,  and  should  so  far  excel  the  most  cultivated  among  them, 
regarded  in  a  moral  estimate  ;  no  other  reason  than  this,  that  the  light 
of  Jesus  Christ  has  shone  upon  us  like  a  finer  Sun — the  "  Sun  of 
Righteousness.''''  All  those  elysian  images  of  prophecy,  which  paint 
with  so  much  beauty  the  latter  days  of  the  world,  are  nothing,  in  their 
substantial  fulfilment,  but  the  impress  of  Jesus  Christ  on  the  minds 
and  manners  of  mankind,  the  image  of  Christianity  imbodied  in 
society,  "  the  earth  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,^''  and  righteous- 
ness dwelling  in  the  new-created  universe. 

5.  The  fifth  and  last  requisite  of  a  well-constituted  government  is 
stability :  this  is  the  crown  of  all  its  other  advantages.  Nothing  can 
be  wanting  to  such  a  reign  but  that  it  should  last ;  and  this  is  what 
the  text  emphatically  expresses, — "  Thy  throne  shall  be  established  for 
ever :"  as  the  Psalmist  says  of  the  Messiah,  "//c  shall  reign  as  long 
as  the  sun  and  moon  endure.''''  In  this  the  kingdom  of  David  was  an 
emblem,  however  faint,  of  that  which  would  be  erected  by  Jesus 
Christ ;  wonderfully  preserved  as  was  the  throne  of  Judah,  while  the 
greatest  monarchies  were  marked  by  perpetual  vicissitudes  :  the  kings 
of  Israel  were  ever  changing  in  their  line,  while  the  descendants  of 
David  maintained  a  direct  succession.     No  Roman  emperor,  with  the 


WITH  THE  SPnilTUAL  KINGDOM.  45 1 

exception  of  Vespasian,  was  followed  by  his  proper  successor  during 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  from  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar:  they  passed 
and  chased  one  another  like  shadows.  Here,  meanwhile,  "  in  the 
house  of  Judah,"  was  a  preternalural  stability,  destined  as  an  image 
(though  an  imperfect  image)  of  the  fixed,  indestructible  empire  of 
Jesus  Christ.  His  throne  has  never  been  shaken  for  a  moment ; 
He  has  appeared  without  a  rival  i?i  the  field.  Who  has  ever 
dared  to  question  His  pretensions  ?  who  has  dared  to  challenge 
a  comparison  with  Him  in  prophecies,  in  miracles,  in  virtues,  in  doc' 
trines?  Not  a  doubt  has  been  entertained  among  competent  judges 
of  His  being  the  true  Messiah  :  all  the  servants  of  God  have  been 
ready,  in  reference  to  His  dominion,  to  adopt  the  well-known  excla- 
Ination  of  an  excellent  man,  "  Esto  perpetua  .'"*  Of  His  kingdom 
let  there  be  no  end.  We  may  truly  say,  "  Why  do  the  heathen 
rage,  and  the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing  ?  The  kings  of  the  world 
stand  up,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  against  the  Lord  and  his  Messiah  j 
but  He  shall  break  their  bonds  asunder,  and  dash  them  in  pieces  like 
a  potter's  vessel."  There  has  appeared  on  earth  no  other  universal 
interest  than  this  ;  none  which  has  bound  all  hearts  together  as  the 
heart  of  one  man.  In  minor  points  we  may  follow  a  thousand  dif- 
ferent paths ;  but  when  the  question  is,  whether  Jesus  Christ  shall 
reign, — whether  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  extended,— 
we  are  ready  to  forget  all  our  distinctions, — we  are  all  united^ — we 
are  all  one  man.  Not  that  the  stability  of  His  kingdom  depends 
merely  on  human  exertions  :  God  has  staked  his  character  and  all  his 
perfections  upon  its  establishment ;  He  has  pledged  his  word  and 
oath  for  its  success : — "  The  jealousy  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  will  do 
this,  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it." 

Nothing  but  the  extension  of  this  empire  is  necessary  to  change  the 
wilderness  into  a  paradise,  and  exalt  the  condition  of  earth  into  a 
resemblance  of  heaven.  And  we  have  reason  to  hope  the  destined 
period  is  not  remote  :  our  children's  children  may  live  to  witness  the 
cessation  of  wars  under  the  sceptre  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  ;  to 
witness  the  expectation  of  eternity  and  heaven  diffused  among  all  the 
partakers  of  our  nature.  Lend  your  helping  hand  to  the  promotion  of 
such  an  object.  Convert  base  riches,  "  the  mammon  of  unrighteous- 
ness," into  the  means  of  imparting  spiritual  treasure,  the  instrument 
of  conveying  "  an  exceeding  and  eternal  ireight  of  glory,"  into  a 
link,  an  important  link  in  the  chain  that  connects  earth  with  heaven. 
You  are  not  called  out  to  endure  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day  ;  you 
are  permitted,  while  sitting  under  your  vine  and  fig-tree,  to  assist,  in  a 
way  at  once  easy  and  effectual,  the  diffusion  of  the  privileges  and 
immunities  of  this  heavenly  kingdom  over  the  whole  world ;  the 
recovery  of  a  vast  neglected  portion  of  our  race  to  the  happy  condi- 
tion of  those  who  are  the  subjects  of  Jesus  Christ. 

*  The  last  words  of  Paul  Sarpi,  expressive  of  his  wish  for  the  immortal  glory  of  bisj  country,  Uf 
■vihose  sduse  he  died  a  uiartyr. 

Ff2 


452  THE   ENLARGEMENT  OF 

XV. 

THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  CHRISTIAN  BENEVOLENCE.* 

2  Cor.  vi.  13. — Now  for  a  recompense  in  the  same  (/  speak  as  unto 
my  children),  be  ye  also  enlarged. 

[preached  for  the  baptist  mission,  at  BROADMEAD,  BRISTOL,  AUGUST  6,  1824.] 

The  Corinthian  church  was  early  infested  by  false  teachers,  who 
opposed  themselves  to  the  apostle  Paul,  and,  forming  their  own  sects 
and  factions,  endeavoured  to  substitute  their  corruptions  of  the  faith 
for  his  pure  and  Divine  doctrine.  To  the  cure  of  this  disease  he  had 
addressed  himself  in  a  former,  and  he  pursued  the  same  design  in 
this  epistle.  In  doing  this,  he  found  himself  compelled,  though  the 
humblest  of  men,  to  remind  the  Corinthians  of  the  extraordinary  evi- 
dences he  had  given  of  the  most  devoted  zeal  in  the  cause  of  Christ, 
while  he  adverted  to  his  manifold  sacrifices  and  exertions.  In  the 
context  he  speaks  in  the  affectionate  language  of  a  parent  appealing 
to  his  children :  "  O  ye  Corinthians,  our  mouth  is  open  to  you,  our 
heart  is  enlarged :  ye  are  not  straitened  in  us,  but  ye  are  straitened 
in  your  own  bowels.  Now  for  a  recompense  in  the  same  (I  speak  as 
unto  my  children),  be  ye  also  enlarged."  Endeavour  (as  if  he  said)  to 
meet  me  upon  the  same  ground  of  affectionate  attachment  on  which  I 
desire  to  embrace  you  in  Christ.  In  discoursing  on  these  words,  I 
propose,  for  our  mutual  advantage,  first,  to  illustrate  in  what  this 
enlargement  consists,  and,  secondly,  to  enforce  it. 

I.  With  respect  to  the  first  point, — in  what  the  enlargement  men- 
tioned in  the  text  consists, — let  it  be  remarked,  first,  that  it  is  not  to 
be  understood  as  consisting  in  expansion  of  intellect,  in  that  kind  of 
mental  enlargement  which  arises  from  the  discoveries  of  science  and 
philosophy :  for  this,  however  ornamental,  or  however  useful  it  may 
be,  is  by  no  means  necessarily  connected  with  a  Divine  influence  on 
the  heart.  Nothing  can  be  more  familiar  to  our  knowledge  or  obser- 
vation than  the  melancholy  instances  of  those  in  whose  character 
extreme  deficiencies  and  blemishes  of  a  moral  kind  form  a  striking- 
contrast  to  brilliancy  of  intellect.  It  is  sufficient,  in  illustration,  to 
remind  you  of  the  examples  which  have  been  so  abundantly  furnished 
by  a  neighbouring  kingdom.  Probably,  there  may  exist  some  remote 
tendency  in  intellectual  enlargement  to  expand  the  heart  in  benevolent 
sensibility ;  but  the  connexion  is  not  so  close,  nor  the  effect  so  certain, 
as  to  justify  any  great  dependence;  and  those  who  infer  from  the 
improvement  of  reason  a  proportionate  advancement  in  virtue  will 
find  their  expectation  too  often  frustrated. 

There  are  others  who  flatter  themselves  that  they  possess  superior 

*  Printed  from  the  noten  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Orioneld. 


CHRISTIAN  BENEVOLENCE.  453 

enlargement  of  soul  to  most  around  them,  because  they  entertain  an 
equal  indifference  to  all  the  vanities  of  human  opinion  in  religious 
subjects,  and  feel  no  regard  for  any  sect  or  creed.  This  would,  no 
doubt,  be  a  very  cheap  and  easy  doctrine  to  embrace :  by  those  who 
are  indifferent,  concessions  are  easily  made  to  almost  any  extent ;  and 
there  can  be  no  great  liberality  in  sacriiicing  truth  where  no  real 
attachment  to  truth  is  felt.  In  the  apostle  Paul  we  find  the  reverse  of 
such  a  character :  exactly  in  proportion  as  he  became  attached  and 
devoted  to  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  he  exhibited  the  increase  of 
his  real  benevolence  and  self-denying  exertions.  Genuine  enlarge- 
ment of  charity  consists  in  seeking  the  salvation  of  men, — not  in  com- 
plimenting them  with  a  pretended  candour.  Nothing  can  be  really 
more  cruel,  however  varnished  with  a  gloss  of  liberality,  than  the 
attempt  to  explain  away  the  most  clear  and  awful  sanctions  of  Divine 
truth,  when  we  are  expressly  assured,  "  He  that  believeth  shall  be 
saved  ;  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be  da?nned .'"  True  spiritual  wisdom 
is  shown,  not  in  such  a  promiscuous  confusion  of  all  parts  of  truth, 
but  in  proportioning  our  regard  for  every  part  to  its  own  importance 
and  magnitude. 

On  the  positive  side  of  the  subject:  the  Christian  enlargement 
recommended  consists  in  a  real  benevolence  to  the  whole  church  of 
Christ,  as  opposed  to  any  selfish  views  of  our  oion  salvation,  or  of 
our  ovm  church,  as  exclusively  concerned.  The  nearer  we  approxi- 
mate to  universal  love,  the  higher  we  ascend  in  the  scale  of  Christian 
excellence.  There  are  some,  though  we  would  hope  the  number  is 
small,  who  live  solely  to  themselves ;  who  are  so  perfectly  absorbed  in 
selfishness  as  to  neglect  all  around  them ;  who  regard  whatever  does 
not  conduce  to  their  own  immediate  gain  or  pleasure  as  so  much  loss  : 
— the  proper  sentiment  we  should  entertain  towards  the  spirit  these 
exemplify  is  that  of  supreme  contempt. 

Others  limit  their  benevolence  to  the  circle  of  their  own  family,  or 
of  their  acquaintance  ;  these  rise  above  the  former,  in  proportion  as  they 
possess  more  of  the  enlargement  we  would  illustrate ;  they  mingle 
their  affections  with  others,  and  identify  their  happiness  with  that  of 
those  who  are  most  nearly  connected  with  themselves. 

Others  advance  far  beyond  this  :  they  extend  their  benevolent  inter- 
est over  a  much  wider  circle  ;  they  feel  for  every  case  of  distress,  and 
rejoice  in  every  opportunity  of  benefit  that  falls  witliin  their  view. 
Their  emotions  are  of  the  same  kind  with  the  former,  but,  taking  an 
ampler  range,  they  proportionably  raise  the  moral  character. 

But  suppose  the  whole  nation  to  be  embraced  by  an  individual ;  sup- 
pose him,  forgetful  of  all  merely  personal  or  private  interests,  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  the  public  benefit  of  his  country  :  he  holds  the 
scales  of  justice, — he  allays  discord,  alleviates  the  wretchedness  of 
want,  exposes  his  very  life  in  the  service  of  the  state ;  and  in  every 
respect  acts  under  the  impression  of  his  forming  only  a  part  of  the 
whole.  Here  is  a  far  higher  order  of  character ;  and  the  reason  is, 
that  it  has  more  of  the  true  enlargement  recommended  by  the  apostle. 
And  this  is  the  utmost  extent  of  human  benevolence,  apart  from  the 


454  THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF 

divine  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  proud  Roman  confined  all  his 
benevolence  to  the  city  of  Rome,  and  regarded  the  remoter  provinces 
merely  as  subservient  to  the  wealth  and  splendour  of  that  enormous 
capital ;  while  all  the  world,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  empire,  was 
despised  as  a  mass  of  despicable  barbarism.  To  view  the  world  as 
one  united  whole, — ^niankind  as  one  family,  all  nations  as  one  blood, — 
springing  from  one  Father  of  all,  tending  to  one  destiny, — this  enlarge- 
ment of  heart,  however  just  and  natural,  never  entered  into  the  views, 
or  at  least  never  regulated  the  conduct,  of  the  most  enlightened  men 
in  the  pagan  world. 

But  suppose  us  enabled  to  open  our  eyes  to  a  comprehensive  view 
of  mankind  as  one  vast  family ;  suppose  the  Divine  Being  to  have 
clearly  discovered  himself  as  the  Universal  Father,  of  whom  all  are 
alike  the  children  by  iiature,  and  from  whom  all  have  alike  departed 
by  sin :  suppose  him  to  have  shown  us  tliat  all  are  in  the  same  lapsed 
condition,  and  that  one  great  method  of  recovery  has  been  provided  for 
all ;  that  there  is  one  immense  society  of  holy  beings,  whether  men  or 
angels,  to  which  we  are  all  invited  by  the  gospel :  what  should  be  the 
effect  of  such  a  revelation,  but  first  to  attach  us  to  God  as  our  com- 
mon centre,  and  then  to  the  whole  family  of  man  as  called  to  form  the 
church  of  God? — for,  in  such  a  view,  we  come  to  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  of  the  saints, — to  God, 
the  Judge  of  all,— to  Jesus  Christ,  the  mediator  between  God  and 
man  ! 

II.  In  the  second  place,  I  proceed  to  enforce  this  spirit  of  Christian 
enlargement,  by  reminding  you  of  some  of  its  motives  and  reasons. 

I.  First,  this  spirit  is  perfectly  reasonable,  and  in  harmony  with 
nature ; — with  nature,  that  is,  as  the  production  of  God,  though  not  as 
transformed  by  si7i.  This  erdargement  of  soul  is  one  of  the  great 
lines  of  demarkation  between  man  and  the  inferior  creation — this  prop- 
erty of  his  mind,  by  wliich  he  is  capable  of  considering  himself  as 
part  of  the  whole, —  capable  of  abstracting  and  generalizing  his  ideas, 
and  of  forming  a  conception  of  contributing  to  the  moral  system.  The 
more  pious,  the  more  truly  enlightened  men  become,  the  more  they 
feel  and  cherish  this  most  important  sentiment,  tliis  moral  ahstructioii 
and  expansion.  Again,  we  are  evidently  so  circiunstanced  in  the  pres- 
ent world,  that  we  are  perpetually  and  inevitably  led  out  of  ourselves : 
it  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  practicable  system  of  conduct  which 
would  insulate  us  from  our  species,  and  confine  us  to  ourselves  entirely. 
There  are  several  natural  emotions  of  the  mind  that  are  purely  social 
and  benevolent :  such  is  the  sentiment  of  pity  or  compassion,  which  it 
is  impossible  to  explain  on  any  other  supposition.  Pity  identifies  us 
with  others  :  those  who  have  attempted  to  resolve  it  into  a  selfish 
pleasure  as  its  origin  forget  that  this  pleasure  itself  must  be  traced  to 
a  previous  concern  for  distress  as  its  cause.  It  is  absurd  to  suppose 
we  must^r*^  feel  the  pleasure,  and  then  exercise  the  pity;  this  is  to 
mistake  the  effect  for  the  cause,  and  to  leave  no  basis  for  the  emotion. 
In  all  our  social  affections,  supposing  them  gennine  and  not  merely 
pretended,  we  act  on  the  ground  of  a  disinterested  benevolence ;  we 


CHRISTIAN  BENEVOLENCE.  455 

make  our  happiness  out  of  that  of  others ;  it  is  their  happiness,  not 
our  own,  that  we  primarily  seek. 

2.  Further:  this  enlargement  agrees  with  the  genius  of  Chris- 
tianity,— of  that  Divine  system  under  which  we  profess  to  be  forming 
our  character.  For  what  is  Christianity  1  It  is  to  believe  in  the  re- 
demption of  the  world  by  Christ  the  Son  of  God.  This  is  the  simplest 
view  of  revelation  ;  but  this  is  the  grand  display  of  the  Divmc  benevo- 
lence :  ^^  Herein  is  love;  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us, 
and  gave  his  Son  a  ransom  for  us."  "  God  so  loved  the  tvorld  that  he 
gave  his  only-begotten  Son,''''  &c.  It  is  this  fact  to  which  your  atten- 
tion is  directed  ;  the  fact  alone  is  stated  :  those  who  are  not  moved  by 
such  a  fact  as  this,  no  conceptions  of  thought,  no  eloquence  of  words, 
nothing  that  can  be  added,  can  reach  their  hearts  !  Such  a  gift  of  God 
— such  a  condescension  of  Christ — speaks  for  itself,  or  none  can  speak 
for  it.  Hence  the  apostle  declares,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constrains 
Mi-,"  bears  us  along  with  itself  in  the  sa7ne  direction,  impels  us  towards 
the  same  objects,  identifies  us  with  the  love  of  Christ  to  sinners,  and 
the  glory  of  God  in  their  salvation.  Such  an  example  of  compas- 
sionate benevolence, — of  enlargement  in  heart, — once  perceived  and 
felt,  absorbs  the  soul.  In  the  spectacle  of  "God  manifested  in  the 
flesh,"  the  greatest  extremes  and  contrarieties  are  united  ;  majesty  and 
meanness  the  most  distant ;  the  highest  excellence  and  the  lowest 
degradation  !  And  the  natural  efiect  is  to  assimilate  our  hearts  ;  the 
first-fruit  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  on  his  apostles  was  union.  The 
earliest  disciples  began  at  once  to  organize  themselves  into  a  body,  all 
standing  fast  in  one  fellowship,  all  minding  the  same  thing,  all  drinking 
of  the  same  Spirit ;  they  gave  themselves  first  to  the  Lord,  and  then 
to  each  other  ;  they  loved  one  another  as  brethren  in  Christ  Jesus. 

In  the  communion  of  the  saints,  such  as  theirs,  the  rich  blessings 
of  the  gospel  are  most  deeply  enjoyed.  At  first  the  apostles,  not  suf^- 
ciently  illuminated,  retained  some  remains  of  their  exclusive  prejudices, 
some  lingering  of  that  selfishness  which  is  the  old  plague  and  epidem- 
ical malady  of  human  nature.  They  aimed  at  narrowing  and  monopo- 
lizing the  gospel  within  the  circle  of  Jewish  proselytes.  But,  as  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  rose  with  increasing  brightness  upon  their  minds, 
they  purged  off  their  prejudices,  and  came  early  to  a  perfect  compli- 
ance with  the  injunction,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach,  the 
gospel  to  every  creature :"  they  understood  and  proclaimed  that  there 
was  "  neither  Greek,  nor  Jew,  barbarian,  Scythian,  bond,  nor  freer  And 
the  same  spirit  is  realized  in  proportion  as  men  are  Christianized  :  they 
live  "kindly  af^ectioned  one  towards  another;  forbearing  and  forgiving, 
even  as  God  for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  themselves  :"  they  feel 
that  "none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  none  dieth  to  himself."  The 
most  eminent  saints  have  been  shining  examples  of  this :  Moses 
prayed  that  he  might  be  blotted  out  of  God's  book,  rather  than  all  the 
people.  The  apostle  Paul,  perhaps,  above  the  whole  apostolic  college, 
exhibited  the  love  of  his  Master  imparted  to  his  mind  :  he  could  even 
wish  himself  accursed  for  the  sake  of  his  brethren  ;  he  sympathized 
with  every  member  of  the  Christian  body :  "  Who  is  weak,  and  I  am 


456  THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF 

not  weak  ?  who  is  offended,  and  I  burn  not?"  &c. ;  "beside  that  which 
Cometh  upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all  the  churches." 

3.  This  enlarged  benevolence  may  be  further  enforced  by  its  aspect 
on  our  own  happiness.  This,  indeed,  is  a  secondary  motive, — second- 
ary to  the  glory  of  God,  the  ultimate  end  of  all  things,  and  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  Christ,  the  authoritative  rule  of  conduct.  We  are  not  to  seek. 
our  own  happiness  in  any  other  way  than  that  which  is  consistent  with 
these  :  but  here  it  may  be  truly  said,  "  He  that  loves  his  life  shall  lose 
it,  and  he  tliat  loses  his  life  for  the  gospel  shall  find  it."  The  more  we 
imhody  ourselves  and  our  ha})piness  with  the  interest  of  others — the 
interests  of  the  ivhole,  the  more  in  reality  we  consult  our  own  happi- 
ness. In  the  pursuit  of  any  merely  solitary  schemes,  we  shall  reap 
only  disappointment :  if  we  attempt  to  detach  ourselves  from  the  general 
mass,  to  individualize  ourselves  from  the  community  of  our  species, 
we  shall  be  imprisoned  and  pent  in.  When  the  barriers  of  selfishness 
are  broken  dovv'n,  and  the  current  of  benevolence  is  sufiered  to  flow 
generously  abroad,  and  circulate  far  and  near  around,  then  we  are  in  a 
capacity  of  the  greatest  and  best  enjoyment.  Happiness  must  be 
sought,  not  so  much  in  a  direct  as  in  an  indirect  way, — the  way  which 
has  been  marked  by  God  and  by  Jesus  Christ.  In  order  to  be  happy 
in  any  high  degree,  we  must  abandon  ourselves,  according  to  his  will, 
and  after  the  pattern  of  his  Son,  to  the  temporal  and  spiritual  benefit 
of  mankind.  The  apostle  was  a  bright  illustration  of  this :  he  laid 
himself  out  in  body  and  soul, — he  spent  and  was  spent  for  others  :  filled 
with  the  most  enlarged  views  of  the  glory  of  God  as  displayed  in  the 
salvation  of  men, — ravished  with  the  ineffable  beauty  of  redemption, 
— he  was  ready  to  do  and  suffer  all  things  that  might  be  required  in  the 
promotion  of  sucli  an  end  ;  and  the  prisoner  at  Philippi  and  Rome  was 
infinitely  happier  than  Nero  on  the  throne. 

Some  may  suppose  an  exception  must  be  made  in  favour  of  the 
private  exercises  of  devotion.  Devotional  pleasures  may  be  enjoyed, 
perhaps,  in  the  highest  degree,  in  retirement ;  but  we  may  err  in  ex- 
tremes even  here :  we  must  not  be  epicures  even  in  devotion.  It  is 
possible  to  be  so  intent  upon  meditative  duties,  as  to  go  out  of  the  ap- 
pointed path  of  social  usefulness,  as  it  stands  imbodied  in  the  character 
of  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles. 

Would  you  escape  the  corrosions  of  domestic  affliction,  beware  of 
concentring  your  affections  within  too  confined  a  circle  of  beloved  ob- 
jects, lest,  like  Micah,  when  deprived  of  his  images  of  worship,  you 
be  constrained  to  cry,  "  Ye  have  taken  awai/  7ny  gods.''''  Be  assured,  my 
brethren,  the  more  you  diffuse  and  multiply  yourselves  upon  a  wide 
surface  of  benevolence,  the  better  you  will  be  guarded  against  the  afflic- 
tions and  bereavements  of  life.  The  Christian,  wliose  heart  is  en- 
larged in  love  to  his  brethren,  sows  a  soil  that  cannot  but  yield  him  an 
abundant  produce. 

4.  Lastly,  this  expanded  benevolence  is  intimately  connected  with 
the  promotion  of  all  pnldic  good.  It  would  be  trilling  with  your  atten- 
tion to  show  that  its  inlhiencc  on  our  usefulness  is  yet  more  direct  than 
that  which  it  exerts  on  our  happiness.     There  is  nothing  on  which  the 


CHRISTIAN  BENEVOLENCE.  457 

present  age  may  be  more  justly  congratulated  than  its  attention  to  public 
good.  In  the  duties  of  prjuafe  devotion,  in  abstinence,  and  deadness 
to  the  world,  our  ancestors  liave  often  greatly  exceeded  us  :  but,  from 
various  causes,  they  manifested  much  less  of  this  enlarged  Christian 
benevolence  ;  they  pursued  salvation  too  much  as  an  insulated  and  a 
selfish  concern.  Great  care  was  taken  to  explain  the  most  vital  prin- 
ciples of  religion, — to  lay  well  the  foundations  of  the  sinner's  peace 
with  God, — to  build  up  the  believer  in  all  the  highest  views  of  Christ  and 
holiness :  but  a  zealous  activity  in  the  diffusion  of  Christianity  was 
reserved  to  be  the  distinguishing  feature  of  our  own  generation  of  the 
Church.  It  is  wonderi'ul  to  reflect  that  three  hundred  years  have 
passed  since  the  Protestant  reformation,  and  yet  that  the  establishment 
of  missio7is  is,  comparatively,  an  affair  of  yesterday  ;  that  now,  for  the 
first  time.  Christians  appear  to  feel  the  force  of  the  command,  "  Go  ye 
into  all  the  world.''''  Hence  our  multitude  of  Sabbath  and  national 
schools  ;  hence  the  Bible  circulated  by  thousands  and  by  millions  ; 
hence  the  consecrated  use  of  our  commercial  and  naval  advantages,  to 
waft  to  tlie  most  retired  and  unknown  corners  of  the  earth,  treasures  of 
immensely  greater  value  than  any  which  had  ever  before  been  carried 
abroad,  even  "  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ." 

In  conclusion,  permit  me  briefly  to  suggest  to  you  two  or  three  im- 
portant modes  of  attaining  this  Christian  enlargement  of  heart. 

1.  In  order  to  its  attainment,  you  must,  in  the  first  place,  cultivate 
an  acquaintance  with  God :  "  Acquaint  thyself  with  God,''"'  First, 
draw  near  to  the  Father,  in  that  new  and  living  way  which  he  has 
opened  to  your  approach  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  beloved  Son :  then 
will  this  spirit  of  benevolence,  like  an  elastic  fluid,  circulate  from 
your  heart  to  every  human  being ;  for  "  tohoso  loveth  him  that  hegot, 
will  also  love  all  those  that  are  hcgotten.''''  Once  taste  for  yourself  tliat 
the  Lord  is  gracious,  and  then  go  abroad,  and,  like  the  apostles,  you 
will  find  that  you  "  cannot  but  speak  of  what  you  have  seen  and  heard ;" 
or,  like  the  woman  of  Samaria,  you  will  call  upon  others,  "  Come,  and 
see  a  man  lolio  hath  told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  did ;  is  not  this  the 
Christ  ?"  Begin  here :  the  acts  and  exercises  of  benevolence  will 
prove  the  natural  emanations  of  this  holy  fountain. 

2.  In  order  to  attain  this  principle,  and  to  improve  it,  we  must 
exercise  ourselves  in  prayer  for  the  Holy  Spirit's  influence.  Spiritual 
influence  from  above  is  the  true  element  of  our  sanctification ;  and  by 
this  alone  can  our  hearts  be  truly  enlarged  in  love  to  man.  The 
ointment  which  Christ  received  was  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  that  sacred 
unction  must  descend  to  the  skirts  of  his  clothing — must  be  diffused 
among  all  his  followers  :  then  Christians  will  follow  his  example,  who 
preached  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  gave  light  to  the  blind,  and  liberty  to 
the  captives  ;  healed  the  broken-hearted,  and  proclaimed  to  all  around 
the  redemption  of  our  God. 

3.  Thirdly,  and  finally,  if  you  would  cultivate  an  enlarged  spirit  of 
love,  connect  yourself  with  great  objects  of  beneficence.  The  mind 
takes  a  tincture  from  the  objects  it  pursues.  If  you  engage  your 
attention  in  the  concerns  of  Christian  philanthropy,  your  mind  will  be 
dilated  in  proportion  to  your  ardour — in  the  ratio  of  cause  and  effect. 


458     THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  CHRISTlAx\  BENEVOLENCE. 

The  way  of  extensive  benevolence  is  now  opened  and  prepared  by 
God  ;  and  it  is  become  as  much  the  duty  of  every  Christian  to  assist 
foreign  missions  as  to  assist  the  Christian  ministry  at  home.  From 
us,  as  I'rom  the  ancient  Zion,  must  the  Word  of  the  Lord  go  forth  :  the 
waters  of  the  sanctuary  must  be  diffused  by  our  exertions,  until,  rising 
by  degrees,  they  overspread  all  lands.  The  only  question  with  every 
one  should  be,  What  can  /  do  in  the  support  of  this  great  cause  ?  How 
can  I  touch  and  quicken  the  springs  and  movements  of  that  vast 
machinery  which  is  now  in  such  extended  operation?  It  is  a  day 
in  which  the  voice  of  Providence  to  all  is,  "  Come  up  to  the  help  of 
the  Lord  against  the  mighty."  The  powers  of  darkness  are  awake 
and  zealous :  Satan  seeks  to  excite  his  agents  to  new  activity,  "  in 
great  wrath,  because  he  knows  that  he  has  but  a  short  time."  Our 
duty  is  to  oppose  his  machinations  with  the  only  antagonist  force, — to 
set  up  the  kingdom  of  Christ  against  him.  This  has  already  been 
attempted  with  great  success.  Missionaries  have  gone  forth  (Dr. 
Carey  in  particular)  in  the  true  spirit  of  manyrs  at  the  stake  :  they 
have  deliberately  and  joyfully  gone  forth  from  their  country  and  their 
home  into  a  perpetual  and  voluntary  exile.  You,  my  brethren,  are 
called  to  jio  such  sacrifices :  how  different  the  circumstances  in  which 
you  may  fuliil  this  part  of  your  Christian  vocation  ! — you  have  only  to 
bit  still,  draw  from  your  private  store,  and  distribute  a  portion  of  that 
superfluity  with  which  Providence  has  blessed  you  ;  and  thus,  while 
you  remain  at  home,  you  may  touch  the  wheels  of  the  machine  which 
produces  such  incalculable  good.  It  is  a  happy  circumstance  of  the 
age  in  which  we  live,  that  even  filthy  lucre  may  thus  be  transformed 
into  a  means  of  the  most  extensive  spiritual  beneficence.  And  what 
equal  use  can  you  make  of  your  substance  ?  When  life  is  hastening 
to  its  close,  the  world  itself  must  pass  away,  with  all  that  it  contains  ; 
and  true  converts  to  Christianity  are  the  only  portion  of  its  inhabitants 
that  shall  emerge  from  its  ruins,  and  enter  into  "  the  new  heavens  and 
the  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness ;"  the  only  portion 
that  shall  be  gathered  together  in  an  eternal  and  blessed  society  around 
the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  The  divisions  and  distinctions 
of  Christians  vanish  away  before  such  a  prospect.  The  spirit  of 
missions,  indeed,  has  proverbially  contributed  to  harmonize  the  church 
of  Christ ;  and  to  give  signs  of  the  approach  of  that  bright  era  when 
the  names  of  sect  or  party  shall  no  more  be  heard,  but  all  shall  form 
"  one  fold  under  one  Shepherd."  Finally,  remember  that  you  are 
expected  to  act  as  stewards  of  the  manifold  gifts  of  God  ;  that  neu- 
trality in  a  cause  like  this  is  peculiarly  detestable.  Remember  who 
has  said,  "He  that  gathereth  not  with  me  scattereth  abroad  ;"  while 
He  has  declared,  as  an  immutable  axiom,  that  "  it  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive."  Remember  the  apostle's  solemn  charge,  that 
you  "  trust  not  in  uncertain  riches,  but  in  the  living  God,  who  giveth 
us  richly  all  things  to  enjoy  ;"  that  you  "do  good,  and  be  rich  in  good 
works,  ready  to  distribute,  willing  to  communicate  ;  laying  up  in  store 
for  yourselves  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that  you 
may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life." 


MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  459 

XVI. 

MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.* 
John  v.  42. — But  I  hioio  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you. 

[preached  at  BRIDGE-STEEET,  BRISTOL,   SUNDAY  MORNING,  AUGUST    22,  1824.] 

The  persons  whom  our  Lord  addressed  in  these  words  made  a  high 
profession  of  rehgion,  valued  themselves  upon  their  peculiar  oppor- 
tunities of  knowing  the  true  God  and  his  will,  and  proclaimed  them- 
selves as  the  Israel  and  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  while  they  despised 
the  surrounding  pagans  as  those  who  were  strangers  to  the  Divine 
law.  Yet  the  self-complacent  Pharisees  of  our  Saviour's  age  were 
as  far  from  the  love  of  God,  he  assures  them  in  the  text,  as  any  of 
those  who  had  never  heard  of  his  name.  In  this  respect,  many  of 
"  the  first  were  last,  and  the  last  first."  The  rejection  of  the  gospel 
evinces  a  hardness  of  heart  which  is  decisive  against  the  character ; 
and,  in  the  case  of  the  Pharisees,  it  gave  ample  evidence  that  they 
possessed  no  love  of  God.  Had  they  really  known  God,  as  our  Lord 
argues,  they  would  have  known  himself  to  be  sent  by  God  :  whereas, 
in  proving  the  bitter  enemies  of  Christ,  they  proved  that  they  were  in 
a  state  of  enmity  against  God.  By  parity  of  reason,  we,  my  brethren, 
who  know  God  and  his  Word  in  the  way  of  Christian  profession,  ought 
not  to  take  it  for  granted  that  we  possess  the  love  of  God,  and  are  in 
the  way  of  eternal  life :  the  same  self-delusion  may  overtake  us  also ; 
and  similar  admonitions  may  be  no  less  necessary  to  many  present 
than  to  the  Pharisees  of  old.  Suffer  then,  my  brethren,  the  word  of 
exhortation,  while  I  invite  each  individual  seriously  to  consider  this 
subject,  with  a  vievv  to  the  discovery  of  his  real  character. 

In  proceeding  to  lay  down  certain  marks  of  grace,  let  it  be  pre- 
mised, that  either  these  marks  partake  of  the  nature, of  true  religion, 
or  they  do  not.  If  they  do,  they  must  be  identified  with  it,  and  here 
the  mark  is  the  thing :  if  they  do  ?iot  partake  of  its  nature,  some  of 
them  may  exist  as  indications  where  genuine  religion  is  not.  It  is 
necessary,  then,  that  we  combine  a  variety  of  particular  signs  of 
grace :  any  07ie  taken  by  itself  may,  or  may  not,  exist  without  true 
religion ;  but  where  many  are  combined,  no  just  doubt  can  remain. 

AVheiher  you  have  the  love  of  God  in  your  soul,  presents  a  most 
critical  subject  of  inquiry  ;  since  the  love  of  God  will  be  acknowledged 
by  all  to  be  the  great,  the  essential  principle  of  true  religion.  The  simple 
question,  then,  to  which  I  would  call  your  attention,  is  this, — "Am  I, 
or  am  I  not,  a  sincere  lover  of  the  Author  of  my  being  ?" 

*  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield.  These  notes  present  a  valuable  example 
of  that  species  of  Mr.  Mall's  preaching  in  which,  throughout  the  sermon,  he  kept  pressing  the  appli- 
cation upon  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  bis  hearers. 


460  MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

In  endeavouring  to  assist  you  in  the  decision  of  this  momentous 
question,  as  it  respects  yourselves, 

I.  I  shall  entreat  your  attention  while  I  suggest  a  variety  of  marks 
which  indicate  love  to  God  ;  and, 

II.  Supposing  the  conviction  produced  by  the  statement  to  be,  that 
you  have  not  the  love  of  God,  I  shall  point  out  the  proper  improvement 
of  such  a  conviction. 

1.  In  suggesting  various  marks  by  which  you  may  ascertain  whether 
you  love  God  or  not,  I  would  mention,  first,  the  general  bent  and  turn 
of  your  thoughts,  when  not  under  the  immediate  control  of  circum- 
stances ;  for  these,  you  are  aware,  give  a  new  and  peculiar  bias  to  our 
thoughts,  and  stamp  them  with  an  impress  of  their  own.  There  is  an 
infinite  variety  of  thoughts  continually  passing  through  the  mind  of 
every  individual  :  of  these,  some  are  thrown  up  by  occasions  ;  but 
others,  and  often  the  greater  part,  follow  the  habitual  train  of  our 
associations.  It  is  not  to  thoughts  of  \\\e  former  kind  that  I  refer;  it 
is  to  those  of  the  latter  class, — those  voluntary  thoughts  which  spring 
up  of  themselves  in  the  mind  of  every  person  :  it  is  these,  not  the 
former,  that  afford  clear  indication  of  the  general  temper  and  disposi- 
tion. The  question  I  would  propose  to  you  is.  What  is  the  bent  of 
your  thoughts,  when,  disengaged  from  the  influence  of  any  particular 
occurrence,  you  are  left  to  yourselves,  in  the  intervals  of  retirement 
and  tranquillity,  in  the  silence  of  the  midnight  watches,  and,  in  short, 
whenever  your  mind  is  left  free  to  its  own  spontaneous  musings  ? 
Are  the  thoughts  most  familiar  to  your  mind,  at  such  times,  thoughts 
of  God  and  the  things  of  God ;  or  are  they  thoughts  that  turn  upon 
the  present  world  and  its  transient  concerns  ?  Are  they  confined,  for 
the  most  part,  within  the  narrow  circle  of  time  and  sense ;  or  do  they 
make  frequent  and  large  excursions  into  the  spiritual  and  eternal 
world  ?  The  answel*  to  this  question  will  go  far  to  decide  whether 
you  have,  or  have  not,  the  love  of  God.  It  is  impossible  tliat  such  an 
object  as  the  Divine  Being  should  be  absent  long  from  your  thoughts  ; 
impossible  that  his  remembrance  should  long  remain  merged  in  the 
stream  of  other  imaginations  ;  unless  you  are  supposed  chargeable 
with  a  decided  indifference  to  divine  things  !  Unless  you  are  destitute 
of  love  to  God,  you  can  never  be  so  utterly  uncongenial  in  sentiment 
and  feeling  with  the  Psalmist,  when  he  says,  "  My  mouth  shall  praise 
thee  with  joyful  lips,  wliile  I  meditate  upon  thee  in  the  night-watches  :" 
"  How  precious  are  thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O  God  !"  When  that  man 
of  God  gazed  upon  the  starry  heavens,  his  mind  was  not  merely 
engaged  with  astonishment  at  the  physical  energy  there  displayed  ;  he 
was  still  more  deeply  lost  in  grateful  admiration  of  the  mercy  of 
Providence  as  manifested  to  man  ;  a  sinful  child  of  dust,  and  yet 
visited  by  God  in  the  midst  of  so  magnificent  a  universe  !  But  when 
day  passes  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  without  any  serious  thoughts 
of  God,  it  is  plain  that  He  is  not  the  home  of  your  mind,  not  your 
portion,  centre,  and  resting-place :  and,  if  this  is  the  case,  it  is  equally 
plain  that  you  are  not  in  a  state  of  acceptance  with  Him  ;  since  nothing 
can  be  more  certam  than  that,  as  our  thoughts  are,  such  must  be  our 


MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  461 

character.  I  do  not  ask  what  are  your  thoughts  at  particular  times, 
or  under  the  effect  of  some  particular  event :  there  may  be  little  dif- 
ference, on  S07ne  occasions,  between  those  who  remember,  and  those 
who  neglect  God,  habitually.  The  charge  against  the  ungodly  is, 
that  "  God  is  not  in  all  their  thoughts."  If  there  are  any  here  who 
feel  this  charge  as  bearing  against  thcinselves,  let  them  take  that  solemn 
warning  given  by  himself  at  tlie  close  of  the  fiftieth  Psalm  :  "  Oh 
consider  this,  ye  that  forget  God,  lest  I  tear  you  in  pieces,  and  there 
be  none  to  deliver  you  !" 

2.  Let  me  request  you  to  consider  seriously  how  you  stand  disposed 
to  the  exercises  of  religion.  If  God  is  the  object  of  your  love,  you 
will  gladly  avail  yourselves  of  the  most  favourable  opportunities  of 
cultivating  a  closer  friendship  with  the  Father  of  your  spirits  :  on  the 
contrary,  he  who  feels  no  regard  for  these  opportunities  proves  that 
he  has  no  love  to  God,  and  will  never  be  able  to  establish  the  con- 
viction that  God  is  his  friend.  Wherever  there  exists  a  sincere  friend- 
ship, opportunities  of  cultivating  it  are  gladly  embraced,  and  the 
opposite  privations  are  regretted.  Where  an  habitual  neglect  of  sacred 
exercises  prevails,  it  must  be  interpreted  as  if  it  said,  like  those  whom 
the  prophet  describes,  "  Cause  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  to  cease  from 
among  us.  Depart  from  us,  for  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy 
ways  !"  If  your  closets  seldom  witness  your  private  devotions,  if 
your  moments  in  retirement  are  languid  and  uninteresting,  your  religion 
can  have  no  hold  on  your  heart;  and  the  reason  why  your  religion  has 
no  hold  on  your  heart  is  because  you  have  no  love  of  God.  There 
are  some  whose  religion  sits  easy  and  delightful  upon  them  ;  its  acts 
and  functions  are  free  and  lively :  there  are  others  who  seem  to  bear 
their  religion  as  a  burden,  to  drag  their  duties  as  a  chain,  as  no  vital 
part  of  themselves,  but  rather  a  cumbrous  appendage  :  this  is  a  decisive 
and  melancholy  symptom  of  a  heart  alienated  from  God.  There  is  no 
genuine  religion,  no  real  contact  of  the  heart  with  the  best  of  beings, 
unless  it  makes  us  continually  resort  to  Him  as  our  chief  jot/.  The 
Psalmist  is  always  expressing  his  fervent  desires  after  God  ;  after  the 
light  of  the  Divine  countenance,  and  the  sense  of  the  Divine  favour : 
but  do  you  suppdsc  such  desires  peculiar  to  the  state  of  believers 
under  the  Old  Testament  ?  No,  my  brethren ;  there  exists  more 
abundant  reasons  than  ever,  since  the  gospel  of  Christ  has  been  dis- 
played in  all  the  glorious  fulness  of  its  blessings,  why  our  souls  should 
be  inflamed  with  such  feelings  as  those  which  inspired  the  Psalmist, 
when  he  exclaimed,  "  As  the  hart  panteth  for  the  water-brooks,  so 
longeth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God  !" 

3.  If  you  would  ascertain  whether  you  love  God,  consider  how  you 
stand  affected  towards  the  Word  of  God.  We  can  entertain  no  just 
thoughts  of  God,  but  such  as  we  derive  from  his  own  Word :  we  can 
acquire  no  true  knowledge  of  God,  nor  cherish  any  suitable  affections 
towards  him,  unless  they  are  such  as  his  own  revelation  authorizes. 
Otherwise  we  must  suppose  that  revelation  insufficient  for  its  specific 
purposes,  and  set  the  tiieans  against  the  end.  All,  therefore,  who  sin- 
cerely love  God,  are  students  of  his  Word ;  they  here,  also,  accord  in 


463  MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

soul  with  the  Psalmist,  and,  like  him,  can  say,  "  O  how  I  love  thy 
Word  !  in  it  is  my  meditation  all  the  day  :"  they  eat  it  as  food  for  their 
souls,  and  find  it  sweeter  than  honey.  They  go  to  it  as  to  an  inex- 
haustible fountain,  and  drink  from  it  streams  of  sacked  light  and  joy. 
A  neglected  Bible  is  too  unambiguous  a  sign  of  an  unsanctified  heart ; 
since  that  blessed  book  cannot  fail  to  attract  every  one  that  loves  its 
Divine  Author.  How  is  it  possible  to  delight  in  God,  and  yet  neglect 
that  Word  which  alone  reveals  him  in  his  true  and  glorious  character, 
— alone  discovers  the  way  by  which  he  comes  into  unison  with  us,  and 
condescends  to  pardon  us,  to  love  us,  and  to  guide  us  through  all  this 
mysterious  state  of  being  ?  It  is  observable,  that  the  07ily  persons  who 
are  inattentive  to  their  own  sacred  books  are  to  be  found  among 
Christians.  Mohammedans  commit  large  portions  of  the  Koran  to 
memory ;  the  Jews  regard  the  Old  Testament  with  reverence ;  the 
Hindoo  brarnins  are  enthusiastically  attached  to  their  Shaster ;  while 
Christians  alone  neglect  their  Bible.  And  the  reason  is,  that  the 
Scriptures  are  so  much  more  spiritual  than  the  religious  books  received 
by  others :  they  afford  so  little  scope  for  mere  amusement  or  self- 
complacency  ;  they  place  the  reader  alo/ie  n-ith  God, — they  withdraw 
him  from  the  things  that  are  seen  and  temporal,  and  fix  him  among  the 
things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal, — they  disclose  to  his  view  at  once 
the  secret  evils  of  his  own  condition,  and  the  awful  purity  of  that 
Being  with  whom  he  has  to  do.  No  wonder  the  ungodli/  man  hates 
their  light,  neither  comes  to  their  light,  but  retires  from  it  farther  and 
farther  into  the  shades  of  guilty  ignorance.  How  melancholy  the 
infatuation  of  such  a  character ! 

4.  Estimate  your  character  in  respect  to  your  love  of  God,  by 
reflecting  with  what  sentiments  you  regard  the  people  of  God.  God 
has  a  people  peculiarly  his  own  :  they  are  not  of  that  world  to  which 
they  outwardly  belong, — not  conformed  to  it  in  the  spirit  of  their  mind  ; 
they  stand  apart,  many  of  them  at  least,  in  conspicuous  conformity  to 
Jesus  Christ,  and  earnest  expectation  of  the  glory  which  He  has 
promised.  How  then  do  you  regard  these  decided  followers  of  God  ? 
Do  you  shun  their  society  with  aversion  and  secret  shame  ;  or  do  you 
enjoy  their  communion  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  among  your 
Christian  privileges  1  Are  you  content  merely  to  be  the  companion 
of  those  who  "  liave  a  name  to  live,  but  are  dead ;"  or  can  you  say 
with  the  Psalmist,  "  My  delight  is  in  the  excellent  of  the  earth  ?"  or 
with  the  beloved  disciple,  "  We  know  that  vve  have  passed  from  death 
unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren  ?"  for,  as  he  adds,  "  He  that 
loveih  him  that  begot,  loveth  him  that  is  begotten  :"  if  you  do  not  love 
the  image  wliich  you  have  seen,  how  can  you  love  the  vnseen  original  \ 
If  the  features  of  holiness  and  grace  in  the  creature  are  not  attractive 
to  your  view,  how  can  your  affections  rise  to  the  perfect  essence? 
How  can  you  ascend  to  the  very  Sun  itself,  when  you  cannot  enjoy 
even  the  faint  rejlection  of  its  glory?  He  who  knew  the  heart,  could 
alone  say  to  those  around  him,  "  I  know  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love 
of  God  in  you  :"  but  thougli  none  can  address  you  now  in  the  same  tone 
of  Divine  authority,  yet  you  may  hear  it  uttered  by  a  voice  within,  the 
voice  of  your  own  conscience  :  you  may  know,  without  any  perturba- 


MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  463 

tions  of  hope  or  fear,  by  the  spiritual  insensibihty  and  inaction  of  your 
soul, — by  tills  you  may  know,  with  equal  certainty  as  by  a  voice  from 
heaven,  that  you  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you  ! 

5.  Consider  the  disposition  you  entertain  towards  the  person  and 
office  of  the  Son  of  God.  "  If  ye  had  loved  the  Father,  ye  would 
have  loved  me  also,"  was  the  constant  argument  of  Jesus  Christ  to 
those  Pharisees  whom  he  addresses  in  the  text.  For  Jesus  Christ  is 
the  express  linage  of  God  :  the  effulgence  of  the  Divine  character  is 
attempered  in  him,  to  suit  the  view  of  sinful  humanity.  In  the  life  of 
Jesus  Ciirist,  we  see  how  the  Divine  Being  conducts  himsef  inhuman 
form  and  in  our  own  circumstances  :  we  behold  how  he  bears  all  the 
sorrows,  and  passes  through  all  the  temptations  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Such,  indeed,  is  the  identity,  so  perfect  the  oneness  of  character  be- 
tween the  7nan  Christ  Jesus  and  the  Divine  Being,  that  our  Saviour 
expressly  assures  us,  "  He  that  hath  seen  mc  hath  seen  the  Father  ; 
I  and  my  Father  are  one.''''  I'he  purpose  for  which  God  was  manifested 
in  the  flesh  was,  7Wt  to  reveal  high  speculations  concerning  the  nature 
of  the  Deity :  it  was  to  bear  our  sorrows,  and  to  die  for  our  sins. 
But  can  you  contemplate  Him,  thus  stooping  to  your  condition,  thus 
mingling  with  every  interest  of  your  own,  and  not  be  moved  by  such 
a  spectacle?  not  be  attracted,  fxed,  fUled  with  grateful  astonishment 
and  devotion, — crucified,  as  it  were,  on  the  cross  of  Christ,  to  the  flesh, 
and  to  the  world  ?  What  mark,  then,  of  our  possessing  no  love  of  God 
can  equal  this,  that  we  are  without  love  to /eA«5'  Christ? — that  neither 
the  visibility  of  his  Divine  excellence,  nor  his  participation  of  all  our 
human  sufferings,  can  reach  our  hearts  and  command  our  affections? 

6.  In  examining  whether  you  love  God,  examine  how  you  are 
affected  by  his  benefits.  Tliese  are  so  numerous  and  so  distinguished, 
that  they  ought  to  excite  our  most  ardent  gratitude  :  night  and  day 
they  are  experienced  by  us  ;  they  pervade  every  moment  of  our  being. 
We  know  that  favours  from  an  enemy  derive  a  taint  from  the  hands 
through  which  they  are  received,  and  excite  alienation  rather  than 
attachment:  but  the  kindness  of  a.  friend,  by  constantly  reminding  us 
of  himself,  endears  that  friend  more  and  more  to  our  hearts  ;  and  thus, 
he  that  has  no  love  to  God  receives  all  his  favours  without  the  least 
attraction  towards  their  Author,  whom  he  regards  rather  as  his  enemy 
than  his  friend.  But  the  Christian  feels  his  love  of  God  excrited  by 
every  fresh  instance  of  his  goodness.  The  mercies  of  God  have 
accompanied  you  through  every  stage  of  your  journey ;  and  they  are 
exhibited  to  you  in  his  Word  as  stretching  through  a  vast  eternity.  Are 
these  the  only  benefits  you  can  receive  without  gratitude,  and  sufl'er  to 
pass  unregarded  ?    How,  then,  can  any  love  of  God  dwell  in  your  bosom  ? 

7.  Consider,  in  the  next  place,  in  w^hat  manner  you  are  impressed 
by  the  sense  of  your  sins.  The  question  is  not  whether  you  have  any 
sins, — none  can  admit  a  doubt  on  this  point ;  the  on/y  inquiry  is,  hoiv 
you  are  affected  by  those  sins  ?  Are  they  remembered  by  you  with  a 
sentiment  of  tender  regret,  of  deep  confusion  and  humiliation,  that  you 
should  ever  have  so  requited  such  infinite  goodness  ?  And  is  this 
sentiment  combined  with  a  sacred  resolution  to  go  and  sin  710  more, — 'to 
devote  yourself  to  the  service  of  your  Divine  Benefactor  ?     If  you  can 


464  MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

live  without  an  habitual  sense  of  penitential  tenderness  and  reverential 
fear,  be  assured  you  cannot  love  God ;  you  have  no  experience  of 
those  Scripture  declarations — "They  shall  fear  the  Lord  and  his 
goodness  in  the  latter  days  :"  "  There  is  mercy  with  thee,  that  thou 
mayest  be  feared  :"  you  know  not  yet  that  "  the  goodness  of  God 
leadeth  to  repentance."  If  the  mind  is  softened  by  the  love  of  God, 
all  his  favours  serve  to  inflame  its  gratitude,  and  confirm  its  devotion 
to  his  will :  but  he  who  has  no  love  of  God  in  his  soul  thinks  of 
nothing  but  how  he  may  escape  from  God's  hand,  and  selfishly  devours 
all  his  favours  without  an  emotion  of  gratityde  to  the  Giver. 

8.  Finally,  let  me  remind  you  to  consider  how  you  are  affected  to 
the  present  world.  If  you  could  only  be  exempt  from  its  afHictions, 
would  you  wish  it  to  be  your  lasting  home  1  If  you  could  surround 
yourself  with  all  its  advantages  and  enjoyments,  would  you  be  content 
to  dwell  in  it  for  ever  ?  Yet  you  know  that  it  is  a  place  of  separation 
and  exile  from  the  Divine  Majesty ;  that  it  is  a  scene  of  darkness,  in 
comparison  with  heaven,  very  faintly  illuminated  with  the  beams  of 
his  distant  glory  ;  that  its  inhabitant  is  constrained  to  say,  "  I  have 
heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  mine  eye  hath  not  yet 
seen  thee ;"  while  heaven  is  the  proper  dwelling-place  of  God  and  his 
people  !  Could  you  then  consent  to  remain  here  always,  without  ever 
seeing  as  you  are  seen, — seeing  light  in  his  light, — without  ever  be- 
holding his  glory  ;  without  ever  drinking  at  the  fountain,  and  basking 
in  that  presence  which  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  life  for  evermore!  always 
to  remain  immersed  in  the  shadows  of  time — entombed  in  its  corrupti- 
ble possessions !  never  to  ascend  up  on  high  to  God  and  Christ  and 
the  glories  of  the  eternal  world !  If  such  is  the  state  of  your  spirit, 
you  want  the  essential  principle  of  a  Christian, — you  want  the  love 
of  God.  The  genuine  Christian,  the  lover  of  God,  is  certain  to  feel 
himself  a  "  stranger  on  the  earth."  No  splendour,  no  emolument  of 
this  world, — not  all  the  fascinations  of  sensual  pleasure, — can  detain 
his  heart  below  the  skies,  or  keep  him  from  sympatliizing  with  the 
sentiment  of  the  Psalmist :  "  As  for  me  I  shall  behold  thy  face  in 
righteousness ;  and  when  I  awake  in  tliy  likeness,  I  shall  be  satisfied 
with  it."  I  do  not  ask  whether  you  have,  at  present,  "  a  desire  to 
depart :"  perliaps  you  may  not  be  as  yet  sufficiently  prepared  and 
established  to  entertain  so  exalted  a  desire ;  but  still,  if  you  have 
received  a  new  heart,  you  will  deprecate  nothing  so  much  as  having 
your  portion  in  this  life, — as  having  your  eternal  abode  on  earth.  It 
is  the  character  of  faith  to  dwell  much  in  eternity :  the  apostle  says, 
in  the  name  of  all  real  believers,  "  We  look  not  at  the  things  that  are 
seen,  but  the  things  that  are  not  seen ;  for  tlie  things  that  are  seen  are 
temporal,  but  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are  eternal." 

II.  And  now,  my  brethren,  supposing  the  preceding  remarks  to  have 
produced  in  any  of  you  the  conviction  that  you  have  not  the  love  of 
God  in  you,  permit  me  very  briefly  to  point  out  the  proper  improve- 
ment of  such  a  conviction. 

1.  First,  it  should  be  accompanied  with  deep  humiliation.  If  you 
laboured  under  the  privation  of  some  bodily  organ,  requisite  to  the 


MARKS  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  465 

discharge  of  an  animal  function,  you  would  feel  it  as  in  some  degree 
a  humiliating  circumstance ;  but  what  would  be  any  defect  of  this 
kind,  however  serious,  in  comparison  with  that  great  want  under  which 
you  labour — the  want  of  piety,  the  calamity  of  a  soul  estranged  from 
the  love  of  God  !  What  are  all  other  subjects  of  humiliation,  com- 
pared with  this — a  moral  fall,  a  spiritual  death  in  sin :  and  this,  unless 
it  be  removed,  the  sure  precursor  of  the  second  death — eternal  ruin  ! 
"  This  is  a  lamentation  indeed,  and  it  shall  be  for  a  lamentation." 

Suppose  the  children  of  a  family,  reared  and  provided  for  by  the 
most  affectionate  of  parents,  to  rise  up  in  rebellion  against  their  father, 
and  cast  off  all  the  feelings  of  Ulial  tenderness  and  respect ;  would 
any  qualities  those  children  might  possess,  any  appearances  of  virtue 
they  might  exhibit  in  other  respects,  compensate  for  such  an  unnatural,' 
such  an  awfid  deibrmity  of  character  ?  Transfer  this  representation 
to  your  conduct  in  relation  to  God :  "  If  I,"  says  he,  "  am  a  father, 
where  is  my  fear  ?  if  I  am  a  master,  where  is  my  honour  V  "  Hear, 
O  heavens,  and  give  ear,  O  earth !  I  have  nourished  and  brought  up 
children,  and  they  have  rebelled  against  me  :  the  ox  knoweth  his 
owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's  crib  :  but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my 
people  doth  not  consider." 

2.  And  let  your  humiliation  be  accompanied  with  concern  and  alarm. 
To  be  alienated  from  the  Great  Origin  of  being, — to  be  severed,  or  to 
sever  yourself,  from  the  essential  Author  and  element  of  all  felicity, 
must  be  a  calamity  which  none  can  understand,  and  infinite  wo  which 
none  can  measure  or  conceive !  If  the  stream  is  cut  off  from  the 
fountain,  it  soon  ceases  to  flow,  and  its  waters  are  dissipated  in  the 
air :  and  if  the  soul  is  cut  off  from  God,  it  dies  !  Its  vital  contact 
with  God, — its  spiritual  union  with  the  Father  of  spirits  through  the 
blessed  Mediator,  is  the  only  life  and  beauty  of  the  immortal  soul. 
All,  witliout  this,  are  dead — "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  A  living 
death — a  state  of  restless  wanderings  and  unsatisfied  desires!  What 
a  condition  theirs !  And,  oh !  what  a  prospect  for  such,  when  they 
look  beyond  this  world !  Who  will  give  them  a  welcome  when  they 
enter  an  eternal  state  ?  What  reception  will  they  meet  with,  and 
where  ?  What  consolation  amid  their  loss  and  their  sufferings,  but 
that  of  the  fellow-sufferers  plunged  in  the  same  abyss  of  ruin  ?  Im- 
penitent sinners  are  allied  to  evil  spirits  ;  they  have  an  afinity  with 
the  kingdom  of  darkness ;  and,  when  they  die,  they  are  emphatically 
said  to  "^0  to  their  owjh  place  .'" 

3.  This  is  an  auful  state  for  any  to  be  in  at  present ;  but,  blessed 
be  God,  it  is  not  yet  a  hopeless  situation.  Let  no  person  say,  "  I  find 
by  what  I  have  heard  that  I  do  not  love  God,  and  therefore  I  can 
entertain  no  hope."  There  is  a  way  of  return  and  recovery  open  to 
all.  Jesus  Christ,  my  dear  brethren,  proclaims  to  you  all,  "  I  am  the 
way.  No  man  can  come  to  the  Father  but  by  me  :"  but  every  one 
that  will  may  come  by  this  new  and  living  way :  and,  if  you  lose  life 
eternal,  you  lose  it  because, — according  to  his  words  just  before  the 
text, — because  "  you  will  not  come  to  Christ  that  you  may  have  life." 
If  you  feel  the  misery,  deformity,  and  danger  of  your  state,  then  listen 

Vol.  III.— G  g 


466  THE  JOY  OF  ANGELS 

to  his  invitation,  and  embrace  his  promise.  See  the  whole  weight  of 
your  guilt  transferred  to  his  cross !  See  how  God  can  be  at  once  the 
just  and  the  justifier !  Take  of  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  and  be  at 
peace!  ,His  blood  cleaiiseth  from  all  sin:  He  will  send  <Aa<  Spirit 
into  your  heart  which  will  manifest  him  to  you  ;  and  where  that  Spirit 
is,  there  is  liberty  and  holy  love.  He  is  tlie  mystical  ladder,  let  down 
from  heaven  to  earth,  on  which  angels  are  continually  ascending  and 
descending,  in  token  of  an  alliance  established  between  God  and  man. 
United  by  faith  to  Jesus  Christ,  you  shall  become  a  habitation  of  God 
through  the  Spirit:  the  Father  will  make  you  a  partaker  of  his  love, 
the  Son  of  his  grace,  angels  of  their  friendship ;  and  you  shall  be 
preserved,  and  progressively  sanctitied ;  until,  by  the  last  change,  all 
remains  of  the  grand  epidemic  source  of  evils  shall  be  for  ever 
removed  from  your  soul ;  and  the  love  of  God  shall  constitute  your 
eternal  felicity. 


XVII. 

THE  JOY  OF  ANGELS  OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER.* 

Luke  xv.  7. — /  say  unto  you,  that  likewise  joy  shall  be  in  heaven  over  one 
sinner  that  repentetk,  more  than  over  ninety -and-nine  just  persons  which 
need  no  repentance. 

[PRKACHED  AT  BROADMEAD,  BRISTOL,  SUNDAY  EVENING,  AUGUST  22,  1824.] 

The  ministry  of  our  Lord  was  exercised,  and  his  success  obtained, 
principally  among  the  lower  classes  of  mankind.  We  read  that,  in 
opposition  to  the  supercilious  contempt  of  the  Pharisees  and  rulers, 
"  the  common  people  heard  him  gladly :"  the  ancient  prediction  being 
thus  verified,  that  "  to  the  poor  the  gospel  should  be  preached."  Ac- 
cordingly, Jesus  Christ,  adapting  the  style  of  his  preaching  to  the  state 
of  his  hearers,  borrowed  many  familiar  illustrations  of  the  truths  he 
taught  from  the  scenes  of  nature  and  from  the  occupations  of  ordinary 
life,  and  generally  used  the  parabolic  mode  of  instruction :  yet  his 
illustrations  were  always  delivered  in  a  manner  consistent  with  the 
dignity  of  his  doctrine  and  character,  and  they  tended  to  show  that  his 
religion  is  perfectly  adapted  to  make  all  mankind  wise  unto  salvation. 

The  proud  l*harisees  took  ofi'ence  at  this  attention  of  our  Saviour 
to  the  common  people,  and  urged  it  as  an  objection  against  him  that 
he  received  sinners  and  ate  with  them.  Our  Saviour  replied  to  their 
objection  by  supposiug  the  case  of  a  shepherd  who,  if  he  had  lost  a 
single  sheep  of  his  flock,  would  immediately  leave  all  the  rest,  that  he 
might  recover  that  one  ;  and,  having  recovered  it,  would  feel  a  greater 
degree  of  satisfaction  than  the  possession  of  all  the  rest  could  bestow. 

♦  Printed  from  ttie  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfleld. 


OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER.  467 

After  this  comparison,  our  Lord  descended  t&  another  yet  more  humble, 
which  could  have  occurred  to  no  person  that  was  not  more  conversant 
with  cottages  than  courts ;  the  comparison  of  the  poor  woman  that, 
on  the  recovery  of  one  lost  piece  of  silver,  would  be  filled  with  a  joy 
which  she  could  not  forbear  inviting  her  neighbours  to  participate. 
From  these  familiar  images  Jesus  Christ  lifts  our  imagination  at  once 
to  heaven  itself;  assuring  us  that,  in  a  similar  manner,  "Joy  shall  be 
in  heaven,  joy  among  the  angels  of  God,  over  one  sinner  that  re- 
penteth,"  and  this  a  "  greater  joy  than  over  ninety-and-nine  just  per- 
sons who  need  no  repentance." 

In  endeavouring  to  unfold  this  passage  for  our  mutual  advantage,  I 
propose  to  consider,  briefly,  the  four  following  subjects  of  inquiry  : 
first,  where  we  are  to  look  for  these  ninety-nine  just  persons  who  need 
no  repentance ;  secondly,  why  the  event  of  one  sinner's  repentance 
should  fill  the  angels  with  joy  ;  thirdly,  why  this  joy  should  be  greater 
than  that  with  which  they  contemplate  so  large  a  number  of  righteous 
persons  ;  and,  fourthly,  why  the  seat  of  this  should  be  placed  in 
heaven ;  after  which,  in  the  last  place,  I  shall  conclude  with  a  brief 
improvement. 

1.  The  first  point  of  inquiry  is.  Where  are  we  to  find  these  ninet)'- 
nine  just  persons  who  need  no  repentance  1  The  forerunner  of  Jesus 
Christ  came  preaching  the  doctrine  of  repentance  ;  and  Jesus  Christ 
himself  repeated  that  doctrine,  saying  to  all,  "  Except  ye  repent,  ye 
shall  perish."  When  he  sent  forth  his  apostles,  he  taught  them  to 
circulate,  wherever  they  went,  the  solemn  admonition,  "  Repent,  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  come  unto  you."  They  constantly  incul- 
cated repentance  as  universally  necessary  :  "  Now,"  said  they,  "  God 
commandeth  all  men  everywhere  to  repent."  Yet  the  text  makes 
mention  of  ninety-nine  persons  who  need  no  repentance.  Where  then 
are  we  to  find  these  ?  Two  solutions  have  been  proposed  ;  each 
in  itself  appears  satisfactory,  but  each  must  be  taken  separately ; 
proceeding  on  different  grounds,  they  are  not  capable  of  being  com- 
.  bined. 

First,  the  persons  concerned  have  been  supposed  to  be  persons  who 
have  already  repented.  Divines  are  accustomed  to  divide  all  persons 
into  three  states  of  character, — as  careless  sinners,  awakened  peni- 
tents, or  confirmed  believers.  The  persons  in  question,  who  need  no 
repentance,  are  supposed  to  have  passed  through  the  two  former  of 
these  states  of  character,  and  to  be  now  in  the  third  :  they  are  neither 
careless  sinners  nor  penitents  newly  awakened  to  a  sense  of  guilt — 
they  are  confirmed  believers  ;  and  they  need  no  repentance,  no  entire 
change  of  their  hearts,  simply  because  they  have  already  experienced 
it :  as  the  apostle  exhorts  the  Hebrews,  they  go  on  to  perfection,  not 
laying  again  the  foundation  of  repentance.  It  is  not  intended  to  con- 
vey an  idea  that  they  have  not  daily  sins  to  call  for  daily  penitence, 
but  merely  that,  having  once  been  effectually  convinced  of  sin,  and 
converted  to  God  by  a  true  repentance,  they  may  justly  be  said  not  to 
need  that  change  any  more.  There  is  nothing  unnatural  or  improper 
in  this  interpretation :  there  are  many  such  persons,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 

Gg2 


468  THE  JOY  OF  ANGELS 

in  every  Christian  society ;  many  who,  having  passed  through  that 
mysterious  and  vital  process  of  Divine  influence  on  the  soul  which  we 
call  repentance,  cannot,  strictly  speaking,  experience  or  require  it  a 
second  time. 

The  other  solution  is,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  here  speaking  hypolheti- 
cally ;  that  he  makes  a  supposition  which  has  no  existence  in  reality, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  argument.  No  doubt  many  instances  of  such 
suppositions  occur  in  the  discourses  of  our  Saviour.  It  is  a  mode  of 
statement  which  exactly  concurs  with  another  part  of  the  parables 
contained  in  the  same  chapter  :  I  refer  to  the  character  of  the  elder 
son.  Is  there  any  individual  to  be  found,  either  in  the  Christian  pro- 
fession or  in  civil  life,  who  exhibits  the  archetype  of  that  elder  son  1 — 
any  one  to  whom  the  Father  could  with  propriety  say,  "  Son,  thou  hast 
been  always  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine?"  I  am  aware  that 
the  conduct  of  the  Pharisees  has  been  generally  considered  to  be  rep- 
resented by  that  of  the  elder  son :  this  is  true ;  yet  it  is  evident  the 
Pharisees  are  here  represented  not  such  as  they  really  were,  but  such 
as  they  vainly  imagined  themselves  to  be.  In  strict  reality  nothing 
could  be  more  unlike  than  the  original  and  the  picture ;  our  Saviour 
gave  them  credit  for  their  pretensions  to  righteousness  ;  but  nothing 
could  be  more  remote  from  the  real  character  of  those  before  whom 
even  the  publicans  and  harlots  would  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
After  the  same  manner  of  speaking,  it  has  been  supposed,  Jesus  Christ 
here  introduces  the  idea  of  ninety-nine  righteous  persons  :  no  real  per- 
sons were  designed  by  the  expression  ;  he  used  it  merely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  assailing  the  arrogant  conclusions  of  the  Pharisees  respecting 
themselves :  supposing  them  to  be  of  such  a  faultless  character,  still, 
argues  our  Lord,  the  spectacle  of  one  penitent  sinner  would  inspire 
greater  joy  in  the  hearts  of  heavenly  beings  than  the  spectacle  of 
ninety-nine  such  persons. 

2.  The  second  inquiry  is.  Why  this  spectacle  should  have  such  an 
effect  on  heavenly  beings,  and  particularly  on  angels  ?  One  might 
have  thought  it  more  probable  that  no  event  on  earth,  at  least  none  in 
which  one  individual  alone  was  concerned,  would  have  any  effect  on 
beings  of  so  elevated  an  order ;  that  such  an  occurrence  would  not 
even  be  known  in  the  celestial  court ;  still  less  that  it  would  occasion 
an  increase  of  joy  in  those  abodes  of  eternal  blessedness.  But  revela- 
tion has  withdrawn  the  vail  from  the  invisible  world,  and  opened  a  com- 
munication between  earth  and  heaven.  It  exhibits  to  us  a  race  of  holy 
and  glorious  beings  denominated  angels  ;  and  these  are  represented  as 
instruments  employed  in  executing  the  Divine  purposes  respecting  man  ; 
they  are  Christ's  angels  ;  they  take  a  deep  concern  in  the  success  of 
his  church,  and  the  gathering  in  of  his  redeemed  :  Are  they  not  all 
ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  that  are  heirs  of  sal- 
vation ?  In  one  passage,  indeed,  though  somewhat  obscure,  the  apostle 
Paul  seems  to  insinuate  that  angels  are  invisibly  present  in  the  solemn 
assemblies  of  the  faithful.*  Though  their  interference  in  the  affairs 
of  the  church  is  now  silent  and  unperceived,  there  is  no  reason  to  sup- 

•  I  Cor  xi.  10. 


OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER.  469 

pose  it  to  be  withdrawn,  or  less  real  than  when  it  used  to  be  accompa- 
nied with  the  splendour  of  miraculous  circumstances  ;  any  more  than 
there  is  reason  to  believe  those  infernal  spirits,  against  whose  tempta- 
tions we  are  so  often  warned,  to  be  now  no  longer  awake  and  active 
against  us.  Heavenly  beings  are  witnesses  of  these  assemblies  ;  they 
listen  to  the  ministry  of  sacred  truth ;  they  anxiously  trace  its  effects 
on  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  men  ;  and  whenever  a  salutary  im- 
pression is  produced,  whenever  the  conscience  is  convinced,  and  the 
heart  opened  to  repentance,  they  bear  the  glad  tidings  to  their  com- 
panions in  felicity,  and  then  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  re- 
penteth.  Do  you  ask,  why  they  are  thus  rejoiced  by  such  an  event  1 
For  the  same  reasons,  I  reply,  that  the  most  pious  among  men  are 
accustomed  to  rejoice  when  they  hear  of  the  conversion  of  a  sinner  to 
God.  Such  a  change  brings,  they  are  sensible,  a  new  servant  to  their 
Lord ;  it  is  the  accession  of  a  new  member  to  that  great  society  of 
which  God  and  his  Christ  are  the  head  :  and  none  can  be  a  real,  loyal 
subject  of  the  King  of  kings  without  wishing  his  laws  to  be  obeyed, 
his  kingdom  to  be  extended ;  because  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer  is 
realized  in  the  multitude  of  the  redeemed.  Besides  which,  the  benevo- 
lence of  angels  is  proportioned  to  their  elevation  in  wisdom  and  holi- 
ness :  they  approximate,  far  nearer  than  the  most  exalted  of  the 
saints,  to  the  unlimited  benevolence  of  the  Divine  character.  God  is 
love,  and  angels  are  emanations  of  that  Divine  Spirit :  no  taint  of 
selfishness  mingles  with  their  feelings  and  their  views  :  they  see  dis- 
tinctly the  connexion  that  subsists  between  repentance  and  happiness : 
they  see  that  when  the  sinner  repents  he  first  comes  to  himself- — he 
takes  the  first  step  in  that  progress  which  tends  towards  their  own  in- 
eifable  felicity — he  enters  on  that  way  in  which  God  is  to  be  found  : 
while  impenitence  endangers  the  eternal  welfare  of  the  soul,  threatens 
its  forfeiture  of  immortal  happiness,  its  subjection  to  irreparable  misery. 
It  cannot  be  but  that  the  repentance  of  a  sinner,  regarded  as  it  is  by 
angels  as  the  birthday  of  a  new  existence,  the  precursor  of  immor- 
tality, the  embryo  of  endless  bliss,  the  introduction  to  the  element  of 
perfect  peace  and  rest,  the  vestibule  of  heaven, —  it  cannot  but  be  that 
this  should  communicate  delight  to  those  holy  and  benevolent  spirits. 

The  Scriptures  clearly  reveal  to  us,  whether  or  not  you  believe  the 
doctrine,  that  there  exist  in  this  world  two  great  kingdoms  ;  at  the  head 
of  one  of  which  kingdoms  is  Jesus  Christ,  at  the  head  of  the  other 
Satan  ;  and  that  all  mankind,  without  exception,  are  the  subjects  either 
of  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  mighty  opposite  empires.  Now^ 
repentance  is  the  line  of  demarkation  between  the  two  ;  it  is  that  which 
marks  the  confines  of  light  and  darkness, — of  the  heavenly  and  the 
infernal  state.  From  the  moment  a  sinner  repents  he  makes  a  transi- 
tion from  death  to  life,  spiritual  and  eternal :  from  that  moment  Satan 
loses  a  vassal,  and  Jesus  Christ  gains  a  servant.  It  is  impossible  for 
beings  such  as  angels  to  remain  indifferent  spectators  of  such  an  event ; 
impossible  for  them  not  to  feel  joy  when  they  see  the  balance  changed 
in  favour  of  their  own  cause.  Victory  and  gain  in  every  instance  are 
attended  with  feelings  of  joy ;  but  no  spoil  can  be  deemed  precious,  no 


470  THE  JOY  OF  ANGELS 

deliverance  worthy  of  triumph  and  exuUation,  in  comparison  with  that 
which  is  achieved  when  repentance  finds  place  in  the  heart  of  a  human 
being ! 

3.  In  the  third  phice,  it  is  natural  to  ask,  Why  the  joy  entertained 
by  angels,  on  occasion  of  a  single  penitent's  recovery,  should  be  greater 
than  the  joy  they  derive  from  the  spectacle  of  ninety-nine  righteous 
persons  who  need  no  repentance  ?  It  must  be  confessed  that  the 
amount  of  good  enjoyed  by  the  ninety-nine  righteous  persons  is  intrin- 
sically greater  than  that  which  can  be  supposed  to  be  enjoyed  by  a 
single  penitent.  Theirs,  besides  its  being  diffused  among  ninety-nine 
persons,  is  a  confirmed  and  advanced  state  of  happiness  ;  whereas  his 
is  merely  the  first  commencement,  the  embryo  of  happiness,  and  this 
merely  in  one  individual.  How  then,  it  may  be  asked,  can  the  degree 
of  joy  exched  in  the  breasts  of  angels  by  the  repentance  of  a  single 
sinner  be  justly  represented  as  greater  than  that  which  is  excited  by 
the  view  of  ninety-nine  persons  who  continue  to  enjoy  a  state  of  far 
more  established  and  exalted  felicity  ?  In  answer  to  this,  let  it  be  ob- 
served, that,  in  all  probability  it  is  the  prerogative  of  the  Deity  alone  to 
be  affected  by  things  according  to  their  real,  absolute  magnitude  and 
importance,  without  the  smallest  regard  to  the  circumstance  of  time, 
without  receiving  any  deeper  impression  from  an  occurrence  because 
it  is  of  recent  dale  ;  it  is  probable  that  it  is  only  in  His  infinite  intellect 
that  all  things  appear  in  their  essential  nature,  without  the  diflerence 
of  impression  which  arises  to  our  minds  from  an  event  being  more  or 
less  distant  in  respect  to  time  :  "  a  thousand  years  are  as  one  day,  and 
one  day  is  as  a  thousand  years,  with  the  Lord  ;"  His  mind  being  om- 
nipresent in  immensity,  and  grasping  all  things  as  in  a  point.  But 
beings  whose  perceptions  are  progressive,  as  the  perceptions  of  all 
finite  beings  must  be,  are  necessarily  more  powerfully  influenced  by  a 
recent  event  than  by  one  that  has  long  passed  ;  for  a  time  it  occupies 
and  engrosses  their  whole  attention,  and  swells  upon  their  view  far 
beyond  its  natural  dimensions.  Now,  angels  are  finite  beings  ;  they 
are  affected  as  such  in  their  sensations  by  the  proximity  and  distance  of 
objects  ;  and  if  they  are  thus  affected  in  their  sensations,  they  must 
be  similarly  influenced  in  their  sympathies,  since  proportionate  sym- 
pathies always  follow  sensations. 

The  penitent  sinner  has  entered  upon  a  new  existence, — he  has  com- 
mcjiced  an  entirely  new  course  of  feeling,  thought,  and  action;  and  he 
is  yet,  when  he  ceases  to  be  a  penitent,  to  pass  into  a  new  and  more 
advanced  character  of  one  who  delights  in  Cod.  Angels  are  affected, 
like  ourselves,  by  the  extraordinary  and  astonishing  change  that  has 
taken  place.  They  behold  one  who  has  made  an  eternal  transition 
from  death  unto  life — one  who  has  turned  his  back  on  the  kingdom  of 
darkness  for  ever,  and  set  Ins  face  towards  the  light  of  God  ;  who  has 
begun  his  march  from  the  land  of  his  captivity  towards  the  heavenly 
Canaan ;  who  has  chosen  God  for  his  portion,  Christ  for  his  Lord, 
saints  and  angels  for  his  friends  and  society ;  who  is  come  to  Mount 
Sion,  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to  their  own  society  and  that  of  the 
redeemed — to  the  presence  of  God  !     He  has  obtained  a  new  mind,  a 


OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER.  471 

new  heart ;  which,  instead  of  being  a  nest  of  vipers,  a  cage  of  unclean 
birds,  is  become  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  filled  with  divine  inspira- 
tions and  acceptable  devotions  !  Can  we  wonder  that  such  a  change 
should  deeply  affect  the  highest  order  of  finite  minds,  and  cause  the 
angels  of  God  to  exclaim  with  rapture,  This,  our  brother,  was  dead  and 
IS  alive  ;  he  was  lost,  and  is  found  ?  If  all  are  unrighteous, — if  all  are 
by  nature  dead  in  sin  and  condemnation, — if  there  is  no  escape  with- 
out repentance, — then  repentance  must  be  of  all  things  the  most  essen- 
tial to  a  sinner :  and  such  it  is  expressly  declared  by  Him  who  said. 
Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  i)erish  ! 

But  why,  you  ask,  is  the  joy  greater  for  the  repentance  of  one  sinner 
than  for  the  perseverance  of  ninety -nine  saints  ?  The  ninety-nine 
righteous  persons  only  stand  where  they  stood  before ;  they  only  go 
on  in  the  same  path  of  life  in  which  they  had  long  walked ;  the  only 
change-  they  can  experience  is  an  accretion,  an  augmentation  of  the 
principles  and  blessings  in  which  they  were  already  confirmed  ;  there 
is  no  abrupt  and  surprising  revolution,  no  essential  change :  but  the 
first  conversion  of  a  sinner  to  God  is  an  event  never  to  be  forgotten  ; 
it  is  an  era  in  eternity,  it  is  registered  in  heaven  ! 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  point  of  inquiry  is,  the  reason  why  Christ 
places  the  scene  of  this  joy  in  heaven.  The  repentance  of  a  sinner 
is  a  subject  of  joy  on  earth;  of  joy  to  the  faithful  minister  who  has 
been  perhaps  the  honoured  instrument  of  producing  the  change  :  as  the 
apostle  Paul,  addressing  the  converts  of  his  ministry,  says,  "  What  is 
our  joy,  or  crown  of  rejoicing  1  are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of  the 
Lord  t"  Or,  as  the  beloved  disciple  says,  "  I  have  no  greater  joy  than  to 
see  my  children  walk  in  the  truth."  There  is  joy  in  the  Christian 
church  on  every  accession  of  new  converts :  these,  if  genuine,  consti- 
tute the  true  adornment  of  every  Christian  society ;  in  these  its  real 
prosperity  consists ;  and  melancholy  is  the  state  of  that  church,  how- 
ever externally  prosperous,  which  does  not  value  and  desire  the  in- 
crease of  its  sincere  penitents  far  above  every  other  sign  of  its  pros- 
perity !  But  when  it  is  said  that  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  every  re- 
penting sinner,  the  assertion  is  to  be  understood  in  a  meaning  far  more 
just  and  adequate.  Repentance  is  there  weighed  in  other  scales  than 
here.  Angels  view  the  change  that  is  eflected  in  a  sinner's  position 
before  God,  by  repentance,  from  higher  ground, — in  all  its  aspects 
and  dimensions,  in  all  its  bearings  and  consequences.  They  appreciate 
the  greatness  of  that  happiness  which  their  fallen  brethren  have  lost 
for  ever,  which  they  themselves  enjoy,  and  which  is  now  in  reserve  for 
the  converted  sinner.  They  taste  the  joy  which  is  set  before  him  ; 
they  dwell  in  the  glory  which  is  become  the  object  of  his  desires  ; 
they  know  that  whatever  may  be  his  present  sufferings,  they  are  light 
and  merely  for  a  moment, — they  will  ere  long  be  exchanged  for  un- 
speakable pleasures, — he  will  have  all  his  tears  wiped  auny  by  God 
himself!  Angels  penetrate  far  deeper  than  it  is  in  the  power  of  the 
most  exalted  saints  on  earth  to  penetrate  ;  the  heights  and  depths,  the 
lengths  and  breadths  of  that  eternity  which  is  the  seal  and  crown  of 
the  felicity  promised  to  every  real  penitent,  which  stamps  it  an  eternal 


473  THE  JOY  OF  ANGELS 

felicity, — even  eternal  life,  the  gift  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord.  They  have  long  been  engaged  in  contemplating  the  beauty  of 
that  holiness  which  dwells  in  God  as  its  original  ;  they  have  long  en- 
joyed him  as  their  portion,  as  their  all ;  they  have  been  exploring  the 
true  fountain  of  happiness  through  a  long  succession  of  ages,  and  they 
find  it  still  as  fresh  and  inexhaustible  as  ever ;  they  have  long  basked 
in  the  beatific  splendours  of  uncreated  light !  They  comprehend  the 
mysterious  and  undefinable  value  of  the  soul ;  its  intense  susceptibili- 
ties as  a  rational,  moral,  accountable  substance,  incapable  alike  of  ex- 
tinction and  unconsciousness  through  infinite  duration  :  these  things 
are  clear  to  their  view  ;  but  they  are  obscure  and  confused  to  us,  who 
are  of  yesterday,  and  know  nothing, — to  us,  who  are  crushed  before  the 
moth. 

5.  In  the  last  place,  let  me  attempt  a  brief  improvement  of  the  sub- 
ject which  has  now  been  presented.  And,  first,  we  may  hence  per- 
ceive the  very  great  dignity  and  importance  which  attaches  to  the 
Christian  ministry.  This  is,  beyond  all  doubt,  the  highest,  the  most 
sublime  and  sacred  employment  in  which  the  sons  of  men  can  be  en- 
gaged. Its  greatness,  however,  arises  not  from  any  circumstances  of 
a  secular  kind,  not  from  any  worldly  splendour,  but  from  its  purely 
spiritual  character, — from  its  immediate  bearing  on  human  salvation. 
That  salvation,  in  all  its  parts,  is  entirely  the  work  and  gift  of  God ; 
but  in  this,  as  in  his  other  works,  he  employs  created  instruments ; 
and  the  chief  instruments  by  whose  medium  salvation  is  communi- 
cated,— -by  whose  operation  the  great  change  of  repentance  and  con- 
version is  effected, — are  the  ministers  of  the  gospel.  The  object  they 
habitually  have  in  view,  as  preachers  of  the  Word,  is  to  persuade  men 
to  lay  down  the  arms  of  their  unnatural  and  guilty  rebellion,  and  enter 
into  the  covenant  of  a  merciful  God :  they  stand  as  the  commissioned 
ambassadors  of  Christ :  their  ministry  is  expressly  a  ministry  of 
repentance  and  reconciliation  through  the  blood  of  the  cross ;  and  it  is 
powerful,  in  every  instance,  either  as  a  savour  of  life  unto  life,  or  of 
death  unto  death.  It  is  an  awful  reflection,  that  if  our  gospel  be  hid, 
it  is  hid  to  them  that  are  lost ;  that  we  are  called  a  sweet  savour  of 
Christ  unto  God,  in  them  that  are  saved  and  in  tliem  that  perish  !  It 
may  well  make  us  ready  to  sink  under  the  weight  of  our  responsibility, 
while  we  exclaim  with  the  apostle,  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things? 
Oh,  how  anxious  should  this  reflection  make  us,  to  whom  this  ministry 
is  committed,  that  the  blood  of  immortal  souls  may  not  be  charged 
against  us  ;  since  the  word  we  deliver  cannot  return  void  to  Him  that 
sent  it,  but  must  accomplish,  in  every  case,  its  destined  purpose  ; 
issuing  either  in  the  accumulation  of  guilt,  or  the  increase  of  grace,  to 
every  one  who  hears  it !  And  repentance,  let  it  be  remembered, 
necessary  as  it  is  to  salvation,  is  taught  alone  by  the  gospel ;  it  is 
only  to  be  learned  in  the  school  of  Christ.  Philosophy  knew  nothing 
of  repentance  towards  God,  anymore  than  of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ:  it 
excited  no  salutary  alarm  in  the  conscience  ;  it  opened  no  view  of  the 
terrors  of  a  righteous  God.  It  is  the  gospel  that  has  first  done  this ; 
it  has  awakened  a  fear  which  becomes  its  own  cure,  and  has  first 


OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER.  473 

taught  the  sinner  to  cry  out,  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  The  gospel 
has  withdrawn  the  dark  vail  of  nature's  ignorance  which  hid  God 
from  our  view,  at  the  same  time  that  it  has  brought  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light  III  Jesus  Christ !  If  it  fail  to  lead  you  to  repentance, 
it  fails  of  every  thing  for  which  it  was  designed  ;  when  He  who  had 
the  keys  of  death  and  hell  in  his  hand  could  employ  no  stronger 
motive  to  repentance  than  that  which  he  employs  in  assuring  us.  If 
ye  believe  not  that  J  am  He,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sms  ! — Ye  shall  die 
IN  your  sins  !  But  Jesus  Christ,  my  brethren,  came  expressly  to 
save  you  from  this  dreadful  destiny ;  he  came  down  from  heaven  to 
give  life  unto  the  world ;  to  quicken  those  that  were  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins ;  and  He  is  now  exalted  as  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour  to  give 
repentance  as  well  as  remission  of  sins ;  a  repentance  unto  life,  never 
to  be  repented  of!  There  is  enough  here,  surely,  to  awaken  both 
your  fear  and  your  gratitude ;  to  excite  both  a  sense  of  the  value  of 
your  soul,  and  a  sense  of  the  love  of  your  Saviour.  And  these  are 
motives  peculiar  to  the  gospel :  to  these  motives  it  owes  all  its  tri- 
umphs over  the  hearts  of  men  :  it  is  the  gospel  of  your  salvation  ;  and 
well  might  it  be  ushered  into  the  world  by  angelic  beings  with  that 
annunciation.  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !  Peace  on  earth !  Good- 
will towards  men  ! 

(2.)  In  the  second  and  last  place,  it  is  not  necessary  to  produce  mo- 
tives to  repentance  from  the  Scriptures ;  the  text  alone  is  sufficient  to 
show  its  importance :  the  simple  fact  recorded  in  the  text  is  itself 
equivalent  to  a  host  of  arguments — the  fact  that  the  only,  or  at  least 
the  chief,  event  on  earth  which  excites  joy  in  heaven,  in  the  mind  of 
God  and  of  the  holy  angels,  is — the  repentance  of  a  sinner !  The 
barrier  that  separates  eternity  from  time  is  impassable ;  the  world 
beyond  the  grave  is  enveloped  in  utter  obscurity.  Had  not  revelation 
broken  the  silence  of  nature,  never  should  we  have  known  that  a 
single  event  which  takes  place  in  the  present  scene  is  noticed  in 
heaven :  but  now  we  are  informed  that  there  are  occurrences  on 
earth  which  excite  deep  attention  and  emotion  in  that  higher  world : 
and  what  are  these  1  We  are  assured  by  the  text  that  it  is  not  the 
advancement  of  knowledge  and  civilization,  not  the  splendours  of  art, 
nor  the  extension  of  empires  and  commerce,  that  attract  the  regard  of 
those  celestial  intelligences  ;  they  are  interested  by  objects  of  a  very 
diflerent  description  ;  they  rejoice  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth  !  The 
repentance  of  one  solitary  sinner,  his  conversion  from  the  error  of  his 
way,  has  greater  charms  in  the  view  of  angels  than  even  the  spectacle 
of  their  own  happy  society,  or  that  of  all  those  saints  on  earth  who 
persevere  in  pursuing  the  way  to  life  eternal.  And  if  the  mere  con- 
templation of  this  change  is  so  sweet  to  angels  in  heaven,  oh,  how 
sweet  must  the  experience  itself  be  to  the  penitent ! — for  he  it  is  who 
tastes  that  the  Lord  is  gracious, — who  tastes  the  unspeakable  com- 
fort that  arises  from  the  pardon  of  his  sins  and  peace  with  God  ;  he  it 
is  who  goes  on  from  strength  to  strength,  from  smaller  to  larger  dis- 
coveries of  the  blessings  that  are  in  God  and  his  Christ ;  he  it  is  that 
eomes  to  God,  comes  to  Jesus  the  mediator,  and  to  the  blood  of  spnnk- 


474         JOY  OF  ANGELS  OVER  A  REPENTING  SINNER. 

ling;   to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born ;  to  the 
spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect^  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels.     Hence  none  ever  experienced  this  change  indeed  who  did 
not  consider  it  far  above  every  other  event  of  his  life :  he  may  have 
experienced  many  other  changes,  and  some  of  a  very  pleasing  kind ; 
he  may  have  passed  from  a  state  of  poverty  and  hardship  to  a  situation 
of  affluence  and  every  earthly  comfort ;  or  he  may  have  been  raised 
up  from  a  bed  of  pain  and  sickness  to  the  enjoyment  of  ease  and 
health :  but  if  he  is  a  true  Christian,  if  he  has  ever  been  a  true  peni- 
tent, his  conversion  is  an  event  that  can  never  lose  its  importance  in 
his  regard ;  the  season  of  his  first  repentance  is  an  era  in  the  records 
of  his  memory  ;  it  must  always  appear  as  a  brilliant  spot  in  his  retro- 
spect ;  it  hallows  the  place  and  the  hour  that  witnessed  it ;  it  lays 
him  under  a  deeper,  a  more  sacred  obligation  to  the  minister  or  the 
friend  that  was  the  honoured   instrument  of  producing  it,  than  he  can 
entertain  towards  any  inferior  benefactor.     And  well  it  may  ;   for  it  is 
a  change  of  which  the  happy  consequences  shall  endure  for  ever :  all 
other  benefits  are  temporal  and  transient ;  this  alone  is  eternal :  its 
value  will  be  just  as  great  when  thousands  of  ages  shall  have  passed 
away  as  it  was  at  the  first  moment.     Do  you  suppose  those  penitents 
who  occasioned  this  joy  in  heaven  at  the  first  preaching  of  the  gospel 
have  found  any  abatement  in  their  happiness  by  the  lapse  of  eighteen 
centuries  ?     No,  my  brethren  !  that   happiness  is  just  as  fresh  as  on 
the  day  when  they  first  entered  into  the  joy  of  their  Lord.     The  expe- 
rience of  eternity  has  rather  increased  than  diminished  its  value.     It 
is  repentance  that  changes  the  whole  aspect  of  things,  whether  present 
or  future.     The  conviction  that  we  have  repented,  that  we  have  expe- 
rienced that  real,  vital  conversion  which  places  us  in  a  state  of  friend- 
ship with  the  Author  of  our  being,  this  conviction  lightens  all  afflic- 
tions, brightens  every  prospect,  gives  peace  in  the  hour  of  death,  and, 
at  the  last  day, — amid  the  wreck  of  elements,  amid  the  dissolution 
of  the  material  heavens  and  earth, — the  spark  of  celestial  immortality 
that  was  first  kindled  in  repentance  will  emerge  from  the  darkness  of 
the  sepulchre,  and  shine  for  ever  in  tlie  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth 
wherein  dwcUcth  righteousness  !    Ah,  my  brethren  !  the  time  is  coming, 
and  may  be  very  near,  when  you  will  have  nothing  left  to  do  but  to 
lay  down  your  head  on  your  death-bed  pillow  ;  and  then,  it  is  probable, 
if  not  before,  yet  then  you  will  begin  to  feel  the  force  of  what   has 
now  been  suggested  on  the  subject  of  repentance.     In  that  hour,  the 
least  apprehension  that  you  are  a  real  penitent, — the  faintest  hope 
that  you  have  laid  hold  oh  Christ  with  a  true  heart, — will  give  you 
far  more  satisfaction  than  any  event  that  ever  occurred  to  your  atten- 
tion.    Oh,  then,   let  none  dismiss   this  subject  with  indifference :   let 
none  have  listened  to  this  discourse  without  being  prevailed  upon  to 
retire  this  evening,  and  in  the  stillness  of  his  chamber,  and  the  solitude 
of  his  soul,  to  pour  forth  a  fervent,  importunate  prayer,  that  he  may 
be  numbered  among  those  penitent  sinners  who  here  occasion  joy  in 
heaven,  and  who  will  hereafter  obtain   eternal  life   through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord. 


NATURE  AND  DANGER  OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.    475 

XVIII. 
NATURE  AND  DANGER  OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS. 

I  Cor.  XV.  33. — Be  not  deceived:  evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners.* 

[preached    at    CAMBRIDGE,    IN    ADGUST,     1826.] 

This  passage  is  taken  from  a  heathen  poet,  Menander,  and  shows 
that  Paul  was  not  unacquainted  with  the  hterature  of  the  pagan  world. 
By  this  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  for  some  parts  of  his  work,  being 
destined  to  bear  the  name  of  Christ  before  princes,  magistrates,  and 
philosophers,  especially  in  the  Roman  and  Grecian  parts  of  the  earth. 
The  maxim  accords  with  universal  experience,  and  was  worthy, 
therefore,  of  being  adopted  as  a  portion  of  those  records  of  eternal 
truth  which  are  to  be  the  guide  of  mankind  in  all  succeeding  ages. 

The  connexion  is  not  that  in  which  we  should  have  expected  such 
a  maxim  to  be  inserted, — it  is  in  the  midst  of  a  very  affecting  and 
instructive  view  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  the  life  everlast- 
ing ;  but  the  occasion  of  it  was  this :  the  Corinthians  had  received, 
from  the  intrusion  of  false  teachers,  principles  which  militated  against 
that  great  doctrine.  They  had  been  taught  to  explain  it  away,  and  to 
resolve  it  merely  into  a  moral  process  which  takes  place  in  the  present 
world  ;  interpreting  what  is  said  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  in  a 
mystical  and  figurative  manner.  The  apostle  insinuates,  that  it  was 
by  a  mixture  of  the  corrupt  communications  of  these  men  with  the 
Christian  church,  and  the  intimate  contact  into  which  they  had  per- 
mitted themselves  to  come  with  them,  that  they  had  been  led  off  from 
the  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  gospel,  and  rejected  a  primary  part  of 
the  apostolic  testimony.  "  For,  if  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the 
dead,  then,"  as  he  observed,  "  is  Christ  not  risen,  and  if  Christ  be  not 
risen,  then  is  our  preaching  vain,  and  your  faith  is  also  vain  ;  ye  are 
yet  in  your  sins."t 

We  see,  that,  notwithstanding  the  apostle  had  planted  pure  Chris- 
tianity among  the  Corinthians,  and  had  confirmed  it  by  the  most  extra- 
ordinary miracles  and  supernatural  operations ;  yet,  such  was  the 
contagion  of  evil  example  and  corrupt  communication,  that  the  members 
of  the  Corinthian  church,  in  a  very  short  time,  departed  from  the 
fundamental  articles  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ ;  and  hence 
we  may  learn  the  importance,  nay,  the  necessity,  of  being  on  our 
guard  in  this  respect,  and  of  avoiding  such  confidence  in  ourselves 
as  might  induce  us  to  neglect  the  caution  here  so  forcibly  expressed. 
"  Be  not  deceived :    evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners." 

Among  the  first  things  accomplished  by  our  blessed  Lord  after  his 

*  This  sermon  has  been  prepared  by  collating  and  blending  the  notes  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Baron 
Gumey  with  those  of  Joshua  Wilson,  Esq. 
t  1  Cor.  .XV.  13, 14, 17. 


476  NATURE  AND  DANGER 

ascension  was  the  organization  of  the  Christian  churches  by  his 
Word  and  Spirit  through  the  instrumentality  of  his  apostles.  These 
he  placed  under  suitable  laws,  appointing  proper  officers,  and  regu- 
lating them  by  the  simple  maxims  of  mutual  love,  forbearance,  and 
charity:  and  no  doubt  the  great  design  which  he  had  in  thus  forming 
Christian  churches  was  to  furnish  room  for  the  cultivation  of  a  social 
spirit,  without  that  danger  of  infection  which  would  spring  from  it  in 
a  world  abounding  with  evil  examples,  and  actuated  by  evil  maxims. 
Knowing  that  man  is  naturally  a  social  creature,  and  prone  to  unite 
with  his  kind,  he  was  pleased  to  form  a  select  society  wherein  the 
exercise  of  the  social  affections  might  tend  to  the  purification  of  the 
heart,  the  sanctification  of  the  character,  and  the  perfecting  of  man  in 
the  image  of  God  and  the  Redeemer.  A  principle  of  action  so  effi- 
cacious as  that  of  the  social  affections,  by  which  men  are  perpetually 
assimilating  themselves  to  one  another,  was  not  to  be  neglected  by  the 
great  founder  of  our  religion.  He  has  consecrated  it  in  the  formation 
of  Christian  churches,  and  thus  erected  the  strongest  rampart  against 
the  incursions  of  evil  example,  and  the  influence  of  a  "  world  that 
lieth  in  wickedness." 

In  considering  these  words,  there  are  three  things  to  which  I  would 
request  your  serious  attention  : 

In  the  first  place,  I  shall  state  what  those  communications  are  which 
may  be  termed  "  evil." 

Secondly,  explain  the  way  in  which  they  operate  so  as  to  "  corrupt 
good  manners :"  and, 

Thirdly,  shall  endeavour  to  ^ enforce  the  warning,  or  exhortation, 
insinuated  or  comprehended  in  the  passage,  "  Be  not  deceived :  evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners." 

I.  It  will  be  natural  to  inquire.  What  are  "  evil  communications  ?" 
It  is  plainly  impossible,  in  the  present  state  of  the  world,  entirely  to 
avoid  intercourse  with  bad  men  ;  this  would  be,  as  the  apostle  observed, 
"  to  go  out  of  the  world."  "  I  write  unto  you,"  said  he,  in  his  first 
epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  "not  to  company  with  fornicators  ;  howbeit, 
not  altogether  with  the  fornicators  of  this  world,  or  with  the  covetous, 
or  extortioners,  or  with  idolaters,  for  then  must  ye  needs  go  out  of  the 
world :  but  now  1  have  written  to  you  not  to  keep  company,  if  any 
man  that  is  called  a  brother  be  a  fornicator,  or  an  idolater,  or  a  railer, 
or  a  drunkard,  or  an  extortioner,  with  such  an  one,  no  not  to  eat."* 
The  intercourse  of  society  must  be  maintained,  without  respect  to  the 
characters  of  men,  to  such  an  extent  as  the  business  of  life  requires. 
No  one  can  possibly  avoid  occasional  intercourse  with  those  with 
whom  habitual  communications  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  dan- 
gerous. If  he  is  led  into  such  society  by  the  demands  of  his  calling, 
the  very  necessity  of  going  into  it,  in  distinction  from  his  choice  of  it, 
will  excite  a  degree  of  caution  well  calculated  to  counteract  the  con- 
tagion ;  and,  being  in  the  path  of  duty,  such  a  person  may  expect  to 
be  upheld  by  the  succours  of  Divine  grace,  which  are  never  withheld 
from  those  who  commit  themselves  to  the  guidance  of  God.     An 

*  1  Cor.  V.  10,  11. 


OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.  477 

unsocial  spirit,  that  would  lead  us,  like  the  Essenes  of  old,  into  the 
solitudes  of  the  wilderness,  and  to  desert  the  active  stations  of 
human  society,  though  it  would  be  accompanied  with  the  advantage 
of  being  entirely  exempted  from  evil  example,  would  be  utterly  incon- 
sistent with  the  genius  of  Christianity,  and  the  example  of  our  great 
Lord.  But  still,  we  must  not,  under  pretence  of  yielding  to  the 
necessary  calls  of  business,  cultivate  and  cherish  that  "  evil  communi- 
cation" which  is  here  said  to  "  corrupt  good  manners." 

1.  Now,  in  the  first  place,  that  communication  may  be  justly  regarded 
evil,  in  the  highest  sense,  which  is  corrupt  in  relation  to  its  immediate 
tendency  to  taint  the  purity  of  ihe  mind  by  associations  of  a  lascivious 
and  sensual  nature.  That  conversation  which  is  calculated  to  bring 
before  the  mind  images  of  indelicacy  and  impurity,  which  owes  its 
zest  and  force  to  the  power  of  such  associations,  and  is  adapted  to 
familiarize  the  mind  to  that  from  which  a  pure  and  chaste  imagination 
recoils,  must  be  considered  in  the  highest  degree  of  this  kind  ;  and 
how  large  a  proportion  of  many  societies  owe  their  attraction  almost 
entirely  to  this  ingredient !  The  real  Christian  will  never,  for  a 
moment,  put  himself,  voluntarily,  into  a  society  where  this  contagion 
prevails,  and  will  take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  escaping  from  it,  if 
by  accident  he  is  thrown  into  such  company. 

2.  But,  short  of  this,  that  may  be  denominated  evil  communication 
where  the  parties  are  of  such  a  character  that  rehgion  is  not  adverted 
to,  or  thought  of  in  a  serious  or  practical  manner,  where  it  has  no  hold 
upon  the  mind,  where  the  fear  of  God  is  evidently  dismissed,  and  there 
is  no  Scriptural  rule  of  action. 

The  mere  absence  of  religion  is  sufficient  to  constitute  that  evil 
communication  against  which  we  are  guarded.  Those  persons  whose 
conversation  is  not  plainly  vicious,  but  who  appear  to  have  no  true 
fear  of  God,  no  regard  to  the  obligations  of  religion,  who  evidently 
live  "  without  God  in  the  world,"  without  any  habitual  reference  to  a 
future  state,  must  be  considered  as  constituting  a  class  of  characters 
with  which  he  who  earnestly  seeks  his  salvation  will  not  voluntarily 
come  into  contact.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Christian  can 
always  select,  even  as  the  associates  of  his  confidential  hours,  those 
who  are  partakers  of  Divine  grace,  those  who  are  really  converted 
to  God ;  though,  as  far  as  possible,  it  will  be  his  wisdom  to  select 
such  as  these  :  yet,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  he  should  avoid,  as 
much  as  possible,  any  intimate  connexion  with  such  as  appear  to  be 
not  at  all  influenced  by  the  considerations  of  religion,  and  seem 
entirely  strangers  to  its  hopes,  fears,  restraints,  and  prohibitions  ; 
though  their  conduct  may  be  in  other  respects  unexceptionable  and 
inofliensive. 

3.  It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  observe,  that  is  an  evil  communica- 
tion, in  a  high  degree,  which  abounds  with  objections  to  Christianity, 
and  is  calculated  to  produce  a  doubt,  either  of  its  Divine  origin  or  of 
the  certainty  of  its  most  important  truths.  He  who  wishes  to  have 
his  faith  confirmed  in  the  evidence  of  Christianity  will  never  form  an 
intimacy  with  those  who  are  opposed  to  that  evidence ;  who  have 


478  NATURE  AND  DANGER 

thrown  off  the  restraints   of  religion,  renounced   allegiance  to   the 
Saviour,  and  adopted  the  loose  and  skeptical  doctrines  of  a  licentious  age. 

4.  And  to  this  class  we  may  add  those  who  have  discarded  the 
peculiar  doctrines  of  Cliristianity,  and  who  are  envenomed  wiih  an 
antipathy  to  them,  so  as  to  be  desirous,  on  all  occasions,  to  multiply 
proselytes,  by  winning  men  to  their  own  persuasion  in  regard  to  the 
distinctive  points  in  which  they  are  at  variance  with  real  Christians  of 
all  ages.  Such  as  have  endeavoured  to  corrupt  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  Christianity  must,  in  the  esteem  of  persons  who  hold  those 
principles  sacred,  be  regarded  as  tempting  to  "  evil  communication." 
To  this  caution  we  are  led  by  the  context ;  for  those  who  corrupted 
the  faith  of  the  Corinthians  were  not  such  as  had  rejected  Christianity 
altogether,  not  such  as  had  entirely  relapsed  into  heathenism  or 
Judaism,  but  those  who  had  denied  the  fundamental  testimony  of  the 
apostles,  contradicted  the  primary  truths  of  Christianity,  and  intro- 
duced another  and  different  gospel  from  that  which  the  apostles  had 
promulgated.  The  apostle  John  lays  down  an  injunction  on  this  sub- 
ject, which  must  be  regarded  as  still  in  force  :  "  Whosoever  trans- 
gresseth,  and  abideth  not  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  hath  not  God  ;  he 
that  abideth  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  he  hath  both  the  Father  and  the 
Son."  "If  there  come  any  unto  you  and  bring  not  this  doctrine, 
receive  him  not  into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  God  speed."* 
We  are  not  to  encourage  an  intercourse  of  a  voluntary  kind  with 
them,  nor  place  ourselves  under  their  influence :  for  that  influence 
must  be  considered  as  anti-christian  in  proportion  as  such  persons 
have  deviated  from  the  fundamental  doctrines  which  are  taught  in 
Christianity. 

5.  They  whose  moral  principles  are  loose,  with  respect  to  the  great 
obligations  of  justice  and  equity,  who  indulge  themselves  in  dis- 
honourable practices,  who  propagate  loose  and  licentious  maxims  with 
regard  to  the  mode  of  conducting  business,  who  acknowledge  them- 
selves to  be  ready  to  take  any  advantages,  and  are  restrained  by  no 
other  consideration  than  the  penalty  of  the  law,  who  are  ready  to 
sacrifice  principle  and  conscience  to  filthy  lucre,  must  be  considered 
as  a  source  of  evil  communication,  against  which  we  are  here  ex- 
pressly warned. 

II.  But  I  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  briefly  to  point  out  the  way  in 
which  "  evil  communication"  operates  in  corrupting  "  good  manners." 

You  know  very  well,  my  brethren,  that  the  order  of  the  natural 
world  is  maintained  by  the  operation  of  matter  upon  matter ;  and  that 
the  order  of  the  moral  world  is  maintained  by  the  action  of  mind  upon 
mind.  As  the  great  revolutions  of  nature  are  carried  on  by  the 
reciprocal  action  of  the  various  parts  of  which  the  visible  universe 
consists,  upon  each  other,  whether  of  smaller  portions  or  of  greater 
masses ;  so  that  mysterious  order  which  the  Divine  Being  maintains 
in  the  moral  world  is  upheld  and  preserved  by  the  mutual  action  of 
one  miiid  upon  another.     This   action  is  incessantly  going  on ;  and 

*  2  John  9,  10. 


OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.  479 

though  it  borrows  for  its  instrumentality  the  organs  of  the  body,  yet 
the  uhimate  object  is  mind.  The  great  medium  through  which  this 
is  maintained  is  the  intercourse  and  conversation  of  man  with  man, 
Avhich  brings  one  mind  into  contact  with  another,  and  is  perpetually 
modifying  the  mind  which  is  thus  drawn  into  union,  and  derives  modifi- 
cation from  that  mind  with  which  it  converses.  We  are  continually 
drawing  and  being  drawn,  impeUing  and  resisting  or  yielding,  assimi- 
lating ourselves  to  others,  and  others  to  ourselves ;  nor  is  it  possible 
to  go  into  any  company  and  come  from  it  exactly  in  the  same  state 
of  mind.  The  moral  modification  is  perpetually  going  on  ;  and  if  we 
trace  it  exactly,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  either  evil  or  good ;  very 
seldom,  if  ever,  entirely  indifferent  or  neutral.  It  is  one  of  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  nature,  that  our  minds  should  be  subject  to  perpetual 
modification  from  the  minds  of  others  ;  nor  is  it  within  the  reach  of 
our  will  to  determine  whether  this  influence  shall  be  exercised  or  not. 
Yet  we  may  determine  to  what  influence  we  subject  it:  we  may  deter- 
mine what  society  we  will  keep,  but  not  what  influence  that  society 
which  we  choose  shall  have  upon  us.  It  operates  according  to  certain 
fixed  and  infallible  laws,  so  that  no  person  can,  by  any  pretence  of 
self-control,  justify  exposing  himself  to  the  action  of  a  power  the 
operation  of  which  is  determined  by  laws  quite  independent  of  himself. 

One  of  the  first  feelings  of  every  person  who  goes  into  company  is, 
to  please  and  be  pleased.  If  he  be  a  person  of  a  benevolent  and 
social  spirit,  he  goes  with  the  very  design  of  assimilating  his  mind,  as 
much  as  possible,  to  the  minds  of  those  with  whom  he  converses. 
This  is  a  silent  compact,  without  which  pleasure  can  neither  be  im- 
parted nor  received.  Just  in  proportion  to  the  delicacy  and  force  of 
this  sympathy  is  the  pleasure  derived  from  society ;  and  they  possess 
it  in  the  most  intense  and  vivid  degree  who  can  most  imperceptibly 
slide  into  the  feelings  of  others,  so  as  to  incorporate  for  a  time  their 
sentiments,  feelings,  and  dispositions  with  their  own.  Hence  we 
plainly  perceive  that  there  is  a  preparation  in  the  very  nature  of  society, 
that  society  especially  which  is  chosen  and  of  a  voluntary  nature,  for 
an  assimilation  of  our  minds  to  the  views  and  principles,  sentiments 
and  dispositions,  of  those  with  whom  we  converse. 

We  not  only  go  into  society  unarmed,  but  we  go  with  a  preparation 
in  favour  of  the  action  of  the  sentiments  and  the  agency  of  the  minds 
of  others  which  is  then  operating  upon  us.  We  go  with  the  intention 
of  being  pleased  with  the  sympathies  which  that  intercourse  excites, 
and  lay  our  hearts  and  minds,  as  we  experience  or  expect  social 
pleasure,  open  as  much  as  possible  to  the  full  and  entire  action  of  the 
social  instinct.  Let  us  suppose  then,  at  least,  that  the  society  into 
which  we  enter  is  not  positively  vicious  in  any  other  sense  than  as  it 
is  distinguished  by  a  total  absence  of  religion  ;  let  the  persons  with 
whom  we  associate  be  only  characterized  by  an  entire  neglect  of  God, 
an  absence  of  the  fear  of  the  Almighty  :  let  their  general  conduct  and 
deportment  be  such,  and  such  only,  as  might  be  supposed  to  take  place 
if  the  verities  of  religion  were  exploded,  and  the  expectation  of  a 
future  account  entirely  dismissed ;  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  this 


480  NATURE  AND  DANGER 

society  itself  will  possess  a  very  pernicious  influence  over  any  mind. 
It  is  dangerous  to  be  accustomed  to  the  absence  of  religion,  and  to  be 
familiarized  to  the  contemplation  of  the  most  solemn  and  important 
subjects  in  a  state  of  disunion  from  God,  and  non-advertence  to  the 
prospect  of  eternity. 

For  a  person,  especially  a  young  person,  to  be  accustomed  to  hear 
life  and  death,  judgment  and  eternity,  and  all  the  most  serious  and 
awful  scenes  of  human  existence  spoken  of,  I  will  not  say  with  un- 
becoming levity,  but  without  advertence  to  religion,  with  regard  only 
to  physical  causes  and  effects,  is  a  dangerous  process,  and  must  be 
attended  with  the  most  serious  peril.  Next  to  the  infusion  of  positive 
impiety,  the  most  evil  element  in  which  the  mind  can  be  placed  is  that 
out  of  which  religion  is  expelled.  To  live  without  God  in  the  world, 
and  to  converse  with  those  who  thus  live,  is,  only  in  a  lower  degree 
than  positive  impiety,  less  dangerous  to  a  creature  who  is  in  a  state 
of  probation,  and  whose  everlasting  interest  depends  on  acquaintance 
with  and  obedience  to  his  Maker. 

I  recollect,  some  years  ago,  that  upon  reading  some  very  popular 
tales  (Moral  Tales  they  are  styled),  the  talent  of  which  is  exceedingly 
great,  but  which  are  distinguished  by  the  total  absence  of  religion,  and 
the  want  of  all  reference  to  it  even  in  the  scenes  of  death ;  the  influ- 
ence on  my  mind  was  such  that,  during  the  time  devoted  to  that 
reading,  it  was  with  great  difTiculty  and  perplexity  I  was  able  to  dis- 
charge my  ministerial  duties.  It  became,  therefore,  painfully  evident 
to  me,  that  to  be  conversant  long  together  with  trains  of  thought  or 
associations  of  ideas  from  which  religion  is  entirely  excluded  is  of 
most  dangerous  tendency  ;  for  religion  is  a  positive  thing,  and  at  the 
same  time  it  requires  to  be  brought  into  view  :  it  must  be  realized  by  an 
effort  of  the  mind  ;  it  addresses  not  itself  to  the  senses,  does  not  occur 
naturally  in  the  paths  of  life  ;  it  lies  in  an  invisible  state,  and  can  only 
be  realized  by  a  positive  act  of  faith,  and  be  made  operative  by  a 
serious  exertion  of  the  mental  faculties,  by  calling  our  attention  to 
spiritual  impressions,  and  thereby  overpowering  the  mechanical  and 
necessary  operations  of  sensible  objects. 

In  the  next  place,  suppose  the  society  into  which  we  enter  be  vicious 
in  the  sense  before  adverted  to  ;  that  it  be  impure  society,  distinguished 
by  the  prevalence  of  indelicate  jests  and  lascivious  associations  ;  such 
communication,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  must  corrupt  good  manners. 
Must  not  the  primary  effect  be,  at  least,  gradually  to  inure  the  mind 
to  the  contemplation  of  vicious  objects,  without  horror  and  disgust  ? 
Are  you  not  aware  that  familiarity  tends  to  weaken  all  impressions  ? 
As  the  mind  is  passive  in  receiving  them,  there  is  nothing  so  disgust- 
ing at  the  first  view  but  it  may  be  rendered  indifferent,  or  even  an 
object  of  complacency.  Vicious  objects,  though  they  revolt  a  pure 
and  chaste  mind,  though  every  well-disciplined  spirit  turns  aside  from 
them  with  strong  disrelish,  yet  they  have  such  an  alliance  with  the  cor- 
rupt propensities  of  our  nature,  which  always  remain  with  us  (for  even 
the  best  are  but  partially  sanctified),  that  the  effect  of  bringing  such 
objects  frequently  before  the  mind  must  be  to  subdue  the  antipathy,  to 


OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.  481 

wear  off  the  impression  of  disgust,  and  soften  the  features  of  deformity ; 
to  teach  us  to  contemplate  such  objects  with  indifference,  till  at  length 
we  shall  certainly  come  to  regard  them  with  a  greater  or  less  degree 
of  complacency.  The  horror  of  vice  gradually  subsides,  till,  before 
men  are  aware,  they  find  themselves  affected  with  the  most  impure 
conversation  very  differently  from  what  they  were  at  first.  The  chas- 
tity of  the  mind  is  violated ;  they  have  lost  that  instinctive  recoil  of 
disgust  which  such  objects  naturally  inspire,  and  are  become  capable 
of  partaking  of  them  with  that  guilty  zest  with  which  their  association 
with  the  corrupt  tendencies  of  our  nature  is  too  apt  to  invest  them. 
This  is  a  process  perpetually  going  on.  There  are  persons  perpetu- 
ally receiving  the  contamination  of  impurity  by  this  channel.  If,  then, 
you  meet  with  persons  of  this  description,  who  delight  to  communicate 
the  taint  of  impurity,  and  seek  to  draw  down  the  minds  of  others  to 
that  gross  element  of  sensuality  in  which  they  themselves  are  grovel- 
ling, avoid  thetm,  pass  not  by  them,  "  turn  from  them  and  pass  away  ;" 
recollect  that  such  conversation  is  most  essentially  evil,  and  will,  before 
you  are  aware,  corrupt  your  "  good  manners." 

Suppose,  in  the  next  place,  that  the  society  into  which  we  enter  be 
of  an  impious  nature,  distinguished  by  a  rejection  of  Christianity,  or 
of  its  great  and  leading  doctrines,  and  has  in  it,  consequently,  the  con- 
tagion of  impiety  ;  such  communication  cannot  fail,  in  the  strongest 
degree,  to  "  corrupt  good  manners."  To  hear  objections  against  Chris- 
tianity continually  repeated  without  being  answered,  to  hear  the  cause 
of  Christ  attacked  in  every  possible  form  without  being  in  a  situation, 
in  a  becoming  manner,  to  undertiike  its  defence,  must  have  an  injurious 
tendency.  Conversation,  if  we  intend  to  please  and  be  pleased,  should 
never  be  a  scene  of  continual  dispute;  we  must  either  relinquish  such 
society  or  hold  our  peace.  That  person  who  feels  himself  called  upon 
on  every  occasion  to  defend  his  religion,  will  grow  weary  of  conten- 
tion, and  seek  repose  in  another  kind  of  society.  But  if  he  continues 
in  it,  he  will  at  length  learn  to  be  silent ;  silence  will  lead  to  acquies- 
cence, and  finally  he  will  adjust  his  opinions  to  the  standard  of  those 
with  whom  he  associates.  Every  man  makes  the  esteem  of  his  com- 
panions a  great  and  leading  object.  When  a  person,  therefore,  from 
that  motive,  learns  to  suppress  his  convictions,  he  will  easily  pass  from 
thence  to  that  guilty  shame  of  Jesus  Christ  before  men  which  is  one 
of  the  most  baneful  elements  of  corruption  and  degeneracy.  It  is 
dangerous  to  be  in  that  society  where  all  is  against  Christianity,  and 
nothing  in  its  favour ;  where  it  is  perpetually  assailed  in  a  variety  of 
forms,  and  nothing  said  in  a  serious,  argumentative  manner  to  sustain 
its  interests  and  vindicate  its  sanctity.  If  any  man  supposes  that  he 
has  strength  of  mind  to  continue  in  such  society  without  having  the 
foundations  of  his  confidence  in  the  truths  of  Christianity  weakened, 
that  man  is  entirely  unacquainted  with  his  own  heart.  You  may  feel 
conscious  of  no  change  of  opinion,  you  may  relinquish  no  article  of 
faith,  but  the  practical  assent  of  the  mind  is  capable  of  all  sorts  of 
varieties  possible  ;  the  degree  of  conviction,  the  strength  of  that  hold 
which  religious  principle  has  upon  you,  may  be  weakened  in  a  most 

Vol.  III.— H  h 


482  NATURE  AND  DANGER 

essential  manner  before  yovi  liave  altered  the  speculative  articles  of 
your  belief.  The  speculative  belief  in  the  great  truths  of  Christianity 
is,  in  pious  mi/uls,  continually  changing  itself  into  practical  belief,  pro- 
ducing that  sense  of  the  reality  of  eternal  things  which  justifies  the 
definition  given  of  faith,  as  "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen."  Infidel  society  has  the  effect  of  weak- 
ening that  practical  conviction,  of  estranging  the  mind  from  the  evi- 
dences of  Divine  truth,  and  bringing  it  into  a  state  of  obscurity ;  it  is 
an  element  of  darkness,  and  no  person  can  preserve,  within  its  sphere, 
a  permanent  and  abiding  conviction  of  such  truths  as  are  only  seen  by 
the  eye  of  faith,  and  are  best  realized  in  the  calmness  of  the  sanctuary, 
and  the  solitude  of  the  closet.  Besides,  we  shall  always  find  that 
those  who  have  rejected  the  yoke  of  Christianit}^  are  anxious  to  propa- 
gate their  disbelief;  they  have  not  the  tranquillity  of  innocence,  the 
confidence  of  truth  ;  and  they  feel  themselves  strongly  fortified,  secure, 
and  fearless,  in  proportion  as  they  have  swelled  their  confederacy,  ex- 
tinguished the  conviction,  and  put  out  that  light  of  faith  in  others  which 
is  a  condemning  light  to  them,  and  holds  out  to  them  a  fearful  misgiv- 
ing in  the  prospect  of  eternity.  Those  who  are  determined  to  bid 
farewell  to  Christianity  have  not  done  it  in  consequence  of  a  serious 
process  of  conviction,  but  in  consequence  of  consulting  their  passions, 
not  their  reason,  determining  to  gratify  their  appetites  without  restraint 
or  control,  and  indulging  in  the  pleasures  and  honours  of  this  Avorld 
without  check.  Conscious  of  this,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  they 
fear  that  the  foundation  they  are  resting  upon  may  prove  insecure  ; 
they  wish,  therefore,  to  be  strengthened  by  the  co-operation  of  others, 
and  feel  a  guilty  satisfaction  in  proportion  as  they  multiply  disciples 
among  their  associates,  and  are  thus  enabled  to  hear  an  echo  in  every 
voice,  and  see  the  reflection  of  infidelity  in  every  breast.  Is  it  not  ex- 
traordinary that  men  who  can  only  boast  that  they  have  discovered 
that  man  is  nothing, — that  this  world  is  the  whole  of  his  existence, — 
that  his  destiny  is  withered,  and  shrunk  to  the  shortest  possible  com- 
pass,— is  it  not  extraordinary  that  they  cannot  at  least  be  silent ;  that 
they  should  be  desirous  to  propagate  a  discovery  so  full  of  shame  and 
reproach  ?  The  reason  is,  that  they  have  fears  on  the  side  of  religion, 
though  they  have  not  hs  hopes  ;  they  dread  the  truth  of  it,  having  given 
up  all  prospect  of  benefit  from  it,  having  relinquished  all  part  in  its 
consolations ;  therefore  they  feel  their  fears  allayed,  their  perturbation 
subside,  in  proportion  as  they  swell  their  numbers  by  an  extensive  con- 
federation.    They  are  "  deceiving  and  deceived.'' 

Let  me  earnestly  impress  it  on  every  one  who  wishes  to  be  saved  ; — 
and  if  you  do  not,  why  approach  the  sanctuary  of  G'od,  why  hear  the 
words  of  this  book,  why  lift  up  a  prayer  to  the  throne  of  heaven  in  the 
name  of  the  Great  Redeemer? — if  you  wish  to  be  saved,  go  not  into 
such  society  ;  or,  if  you  enter  it  unawares,  remain  not  in  it.  To  choose 
such  persons  as  confidants  of  your  hours  of  aflectionate  and  social 
intercourse  is  to  live  in  an  element  of  contagion  ;  it  is  to  go  into  a 
pest-house;  it  is  to  take  up  your  abode  in  tlie  midst  of  the  most  viru- 
lent and  destructive  diseases.     "  Evil  communications"  will  "corrupt 


OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.  483 

good  manners."  No  experience  of  our  own, — no  extent  of  observa- 
tion may  go  to  invalidate  or  impair  the  truth  of  this  maxim,  which  is 
confirmed  by  the  experience  of  all  ages. 

III.  But  I  proceed,  in  the  third  place,  briefly  to  explain  the  warning 
here  given,  and  to  enforce  the  caution  which  is  strongly  implied  in  the 
words  "  Be  not  deceived."  There  are  many  sources  of  self-deception  ; 
let  me,  therefore,  warn  every  one  not  to  be  deceived. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  be  not  deceived  by  the  adduction  of  false  prece- 
dents. It  may  be  suggested  that  our  Lord  was  pleased  to  mingle  in- 
discriminately with  all  classes  and  descriptions  of  persons  ;  but  do  not 
imagine  that  it  would,  on  that  account,  be  safe  for  you  to  imitate  this 
part  of  his  conduct.  Recollect  the  infinite  disparity  of  his  situation 
and  character,  and  yours.  He  came  into  a  world  of  contagion,  but  it 
was  to  impart  the  medicine  of  life ;  he  came  to  a  great  infirmary,  but 
he  was  himself  the  physician  of  souls  ;  he  "  came  to  save  sinners," 
but  was  "  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from  sinners."* 
When  Satan  himself  came  he  found  nothing  in  him.  Does  it  follow 
that  we,  who  are  placed  at  so  infinite  a  distance  beneath  him,  should 
be  safe  in  such  contagion  ?  "  Be  not  deceived  ;"  do  not  take  a  partial 
view  of  our  Saviour's  character ;  do  not  consider  one  portion  of  it 
only^his  exposure  to  moral  danger, — while  you  forget  his  sanctity, 
his  watchfulness,  his  care  over  his  own  conduct,  his  self-government, 
and  the  constant  use  of  those  rules  of  prudence  and  piety  which  are 
recommended  by  other  parts  of  his  example.  If  you  can  find  an 
infallible  way  to  overcome  temptation,  and  achieve  the  victory  over  the 
enemies  of  your  salvation,  you  may  then  plead  the  precedent  of  our 
Lord's  example  against  the  genius  of  his  religion  and  the  import  of  his 
precepts.  It  was  impossible  that  his  spotless  character  should  be 
contaminated.     Can  we  plead  that  exemption  and  impossibility? 

2.  Be  not  deceived  by  your  past  experience.  You  may  be  ready  to 
say,  that  you  have  been  frequently  exposed  to  vicious  society, — you 
may  be  living  in  it  now,  and  perceive  none  of  those  evils,  discern  none 
of  that  degeneracy  and  corruption  to  which  we  have  adverted;  and 
you  appear  to  pass  through  it  with  impunity  :  "  Be  not  deceived  :" 
you  are  very  ill  judges,  it  may  be,  of  the  state  of  your  own  minds  ; 
you  may  imagine  that  you  have  received  no  injury  because  you  have 
fallen  into  no  great  crime,  have  violated  none  of  the  more  essential 
laws  of  social  morality ;  but  if  you  look  within,  you  may  perceive  a 
preparation  for  the  commission  of  these  in  the  weakening  of  that  con- 
science which  preserves  you  in  the  fear  of  God,  in  the  decay  and 
eclipse  of  the  spirit  of  faith,  in  the  relaxed  hold  of  the  great  prospects 
of  eternity  which  you  had  before.  What  has  been  the  efl^ect  of  such 
society  on  your  private  devotions  ?  Has  it  carried  you  to  your  closet  ? 
Has  it  prepared  you  to  retire  for  communion  with  God  1  Has  it 
endeared  to  you  the  Scriptures,  or  estranged  you  from  them  1  Has  it 
made  the  transition  easy  to  the  duties  of  private  and  solitary  piety  ? 
Did  you  find  such  society  calculated  to  make  it  more  difficult,  or  more 
easy,  for  you  to  enter  into  the  true  spirit  of  religion ;  and  to  practise 

♦Heb.vii.  26. 

Hh2 


484  NATURE  AND  DANGER 

those  duties  without  which  all  the  devotions  of  the  sanctuary  will  be 
only  "  walking  in  a  vain  show,"  and  seeking  the  applause  of  man, 
instead  of  the  approbation  of  Him  who  "  seetli  in  secret  ?" 

3.  Do  not  be  deceived  by  any  complacent  reference  to  the  time  of 
life  at  which  you  have  arrived,  or  the  progress  in  religion  which  you 
have  already  made.  Though  the  influence  of  evil  society  upon  the 
young  is  of  the  most  corrupting  tendency  ;  though  their  minds,  in  the 
period  when  the  character  is  formed,  are  most  subject  to  its  hurtful 
influence ;  yet  the  danger  of  "  evil  communications"  is  by  no  means 
confined  to  them.  No  :  at  whatever  period  of  life  you  have  arrived, 
"  evil  communications"  will  "  corrupt  good  manners."  Habits  are  lost 
in  the  same  way  as  they  are  acquired ;  the  fruits  of  long  custom  in 
right  action  are  speedily  dissipated  and  destroyed  by  exposure  to  con- 
trary custom  in  doing  wrong ;  and  the  mind  of  no  person  has  arrived 
at  such  a  state  of  confirmation  in  holy  habits  as  to  make  a  relaxation 
of  vigilance  safe,  or  enable  it  to  yield  itself  up  securely  to  the  casual 
influence  of  place  and  society.  Religion  is  a  perpetual  warfare  ;  reli- 
gion is  a  perpetual  exercise  of  self-command ;  it  is  a  perpetual  refer- 
ence to  the  will  of  God  ;  it  is  a  perpetual  use  of  the  power  of  self- 
government  and  attention  to  the  invisible  eye  of  Him  that  seeth  in  secret. 
If  you  commit  yourself  to  evil  society  now,  what  shall  hinder  you  in 
the  most  advanced  age  from  forsaking  the  law  of  God,  and  disgracing 
the  latter  part  of  your  life  by  conduct  totally  different  from  that  which 
conferred  dignity  on  your  youth  l  Solomon  in  his  youth  feared  God, 
but  when  old  age  came  upon  him,  through  the  contagious  example  of 
his  idolatrous  wives,  he  forsook  the  God  of  his  fathers,  and  exposed 
his  kingdom  to  perdition  and  ruin.  No,  my  brethren,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  depending  upon  any  force  of  habit,  unless  its  influence  pro- 
duces right  conduct  at  present;  if  it  inspires  us  with  a  holy  resolution, 
and  gives  a  right  view  of  our  duty  at  the  present  moment,  and  deter- 
mination to  adhere  to  it,  we  may  rejoice  in  that  habit ;  but  if  it  produces 
recumbency,  a  slothful  dependence  upon  God,  and  neglect  of  the  pre- 
cautions of  religion  and  the  rules  of  duty,  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  he  who  thus  thinketh  he  standeth  will  soon  fall. 

4.  Be  not  deceived  by  any  supposed  strength  of  resolution  with 
which  you  may  enter  into  such  society.  It  is  much  easier  abstained 
from  than  renounced.  The  paths  of  sinners  are  much  more  easily 
shunned  than  they  are  quitted.  When  confederacies  are  formed,  it 
requires  a  powerful  effort  to  break  them.  It  is  far  less  difficult  to 
keep  out  of  society  than  to  resist  its  current.  The  action  of  fire  is 
mechanical  and  necessary,  you  may  approach  it  or  not ;  so  you  may 
avoid  evil  company  if  you  please.  The  ranks  of  impiety  are  not  so 
thin  as  not  to  give  you  sufficient  warning  to  escape  them ;  but  when 
you  are  in  them,  in  the  very  focus  of  temptation,  no  resolution  you  can 
exert  will  for  a  moment  stop  its  progress :  you  must  submit  to  its 
action  ;  you  are  committed  to  your  fate,  and  must  take  the  consequences ; 
you  must  be  deteriorated  and  degenerated  with  the  causes  of  deteriora- 
tion and  degeneracy.  Be  not  deceived,  then,  by  supposing  that  any 
previous  resolution  has  considerable  influence  on  the  conduct  of  men 


OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS.  485 

when  they  are  off  their  guard  and  open  to  the  impression  of  social 
aflections.  ,  This  is  the  season,  of  all  others,  in  which  mental  resolu- 
tion has  least  power ;  the  mind  is  not  only  open,  but,  before  it  is  aware, 
becomes  relaxed  ;  the  love  of  association  soon  comes  to  supplant  all 
other  thoughts ;  all  the  cooler  reflections,  the  wiser  resolves  of  the 
closet  vanish  ;  all  the  force  of  the  most  strenuous  intentions  melt  like 
wax  before  the  sun,  in  the  warmth  of  social  intercourse.  In  propor- 
tion as  the  social  aflections  are  vivid  and  warm,  in  that  proportion  is 
the  necessary  eff"ect  in  dissipating  and  giving  to  the  wind  the  force  of 
the  most  strenuous  resolutions. 

Hence  permit  me  to  suggest  one  or  two  cautions  of  prudence.  In 
the  first  place,  let  those  who  have  a  serious  sense  of  religion  bind 
themselves  with  the  vows  of  God,  and  enter  on  a  solemn  profession 
of  them  at  an  early  period  of  life.  Enter  into  the  church  of  God,  take 
upon  you  the  vows  of  the  Almighty ;  if  your  hearts  are  sincere  with 
him,  if  you  have  reason  to  believe  you  are  in  earnest  in  seeking  after 
him,  and  have  committed  yourself  to  the  Redeemer,  take  upon  you  his 
yoke  openly,  bear  his  name  upon  your  forehead  before  men.  This 
will  have  the  happiest  effect  in  strengthening  you  against  the  force  of 
evil  example.  Recollecting  the  nature  of  your  engagements,  you  will 
be  awakened  to  a  sense  of  consistency  of  conduct,  and  be  shocked  at 
the  thought  of  bringing  reproach  on  the  cause  of  God.  A  sense  of 
self-respect  will  come  in  aid  of  the  higher  principles  of  religion,  and 
the  higher  motives  to  virtuous  conduct.  You  will  remember  that  you 
have  assumed,  if  I  may  so  say,  a  peculiar  caste ;  and  when  you  look 
upon  the  pure  and  holy  robe  of  the  profession  of  Christianity  you 
thus  wear,  you  will  be  anxious,  if  you  have  been  sincere  in  making 
that  profession,  to  keep  it  "  unspotted  from  the  world."  It  is  well,  in 
such  a  state  of  temptation,  to  render  retreat  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  put  yourself  on  ground  from  which  you  cannot  retreat.  He  who 
has  done  this  effectually  has  given  up  his  name  to  Christ,  and  enrolled 
himself  among  his  disciples,  has  gone  forth  to  him  without  the  camp, 
bearing  his  reproach,  has  thus  cut  oft"  his  own  retreat ;  he  renders  it 
impossible  to  consult  his  earthly  interests  at  the  expense  of  piety, 
without  bringing  upon  himself  all  the  reproaches  of  his  conscience, 
the  ridicule  of  unbelievers,  and  the  contempt  of  his  companions  and 
of  mankind. 

Let  all  young  persons,  then,  bind  themselves  with  the  vows  of  God, 
and  unite  themselves  to  those  whom  God  has  touched  by  his  Spirit, 
and  is  guiding,  under  the  convoy  of  the  Captain  of  salvation,  to  eter- 
nal glory.  The  church  will  willingly  receive  all  such  as  are  desirous 
of  uniting  themselves  to  the  Lord  in  an  everlasting  covenant,  and  will 
say,  as  Moses  did  to  Hobab,  "  Come  with  us,  and  we  will  do  you 
good  ;  we  are  going  to  the  land  of  which  the  Lord  our  God  hath  said, 
I  will  give  it  you."*  Are  you  linked  in  with  society  from  which  you 
find  it  difficult  to  break  1  Change  your  place  of  abode,  make  a  sacri- 
fice of  worldly  convenience,  nay,  relinquish  some  of  the  tendernesses 
of  hfe,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  your  safety :  there  is  no  place  so 

*  Num.  X.  29. 


486     NATURE  AXD  DANGER  OF  EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS. 

dangerous,  none  from  which  you  ought  to  flee  with  so  much  rapidity, 
IS  that  which  is  the  seat  of  contagion,  where,  enhnked  with  vicious 
associates,  you  cannot  remain  williout  being  in  the  way  to  perpetuate 
your  confederacy  with  sinners.  Flee  from  such  a  place  ;  as  you 
would  not  "  walk  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly  ;"  stand  not  "  in  the 
way  of  sinners,"  lest  you  "  sit  down  in  the  seat  of  the  scorners." 
Flee,  then,  as  for  your  life.  These,  you  know,  are  different  stages  in 
depravity,  different  degrees  of  progress  in  corruption  ;  walking  "  in  the 
counsel  of  the  ungodly"  is  the  first ;  he  who  does  that  will  next 
"  stand  in  the  way  of  sinners,"  and  that  is  a  ready  and  proper  prepa- 
ration for  silting  down  "  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful."*  Do  you  wish 
not  to  be  ashamed  of  Christ  before  men  ?  Go  into  society  which 
shall  not  tempt  you  to  that  shame ;  seek  those  associates  before 
whom  you  may,  without  a  blush,  lift  up  your  heads  and  avow  your 
attachment  to  a  once  crucified,  but  now  glorified,  Redeemer. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  that  with  those  with  whom  you  voluntarily 
associate  here  you  shall  be  associated  hereafter  by  the  Disposer  of 
all  things,  for  ever :  with  those  persons  with  whom  you  choose  to 
spend  your  time  you  must  spend  your  eternity  ;  these  are  inseparably 
allied.  Those  who  choose  the  society  of  the  vicious,  those  who  keep 
company  with  the  enemies  of  God  in  this  world  by  choice  and  elec- 
tion, will  have  their  portions  with  such  in  the  regions  of  everlasting 
darkness.  Eternity  is  pressing  on  :  ask  yourselves,  then,  with  whom 
would  yon  wish  to  be  associated  when  the  voice  of  the  archangel  and 
the  trump  of  God  shall  proclaim  that  "  there  shall  be  time  no  longer." 
With  whom  would  you  choose  to  rise?  With  whom  would  you 
have  your  everlasting  portion  ?  With  patriarchs  and  prophets  ?  With 
evangelists  and  apostles  ?  With  saints  and  martyrs  now  shining  forth 
in  the  glories  of  celestial  radiance  ?  Or  with  those  who,  having  slighted 
the  warnings  and  despised  the  mercies  of  the  Lord,  must  assuredly 
"  awake  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt."!  There  are  but  two 
societies  in  the  universe,  the  church  and  the  world  ;  the  servants  of 
God  and  the  servants  of  Satan  ;  the  votaries  of  time  and  the  votaries 
of  eternity  :  they  are  each  of  them  claiming  your  regard,  and  saying 
to  ingenuous  youth,  "  Come  with  us,"  and  holding  out  their  respective 
allurements  and  attractions.  One  presents  "  the  pleasures  of  sin  for 
a  season,"  to  be  followed  by  bitter  remorse  and  everlasting  despair; 
the  other  the  prize  of  immortality,  the  society  of  saints,  calm  of  con- 
science, quiet  of  mind,  the  peace  of  a  self-approving  spirit,  consolation 
unutterable,  and  that  only  as  the  earnest  of  the  pleasures  to  be  enjoyed 
at  the  right-hand  of  God  ;  that  fulness  of  joy  which  is  for  evermore. 

Recollect,  time  is  pressing  on,  and  we  shall  soon  be  that  which  we 
shall  continue  to  be  for  ever.  Do  not  say,  I  will  remain  a  little  longer 
in  the  society  of  wicked  persons,  I  will  loiter  a  little  longer  in  the 
pursuit  of  sin  and  sensual  gratification,  in  the  neglect  of  God  and 
religion.  While  you  are  halting,  God  may  decide  for  you  ;  he  has  no 
sympathy  with  hesitation,  but  looks  with  contempt  and  abhorrence  on 

•  Psalm  i.  1.  t  Dan.  xii.  3. 


THE  EVILS  OF  IDOLATRY.  487 

the  infatuation  and  wretched  folly  and  guilt  of  that  mind  which  pre- 
fers the  applause  of  the  world,  the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  the  grati- 
fication of  a  moment,  to  the  "  exceeding  and  eternal  weight"  of  his 
favour  and  friendship.  He  has  no  sympathy  with  such  persons,  he 
abhoi-s  them  ;  at  least,  they  are  exercising  his  patience  every  day. 
Despise  not,  then,  "  the  riches  of  his  goodness  and  long-sufl'ering," 
lest,  while  you  are  halting  between  two  opinions,  God  should  lift  up 
his  hand  "  and  swear  that  you  shall  not  see  his  rest."  "  To-day," 
then,  I  say,  to-day,  "if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts, 
as  in  the  provocation,  and  as  in  the  day  of  temptation  in  the  wilder- 
ness."* 

Be  not  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbelievers,  "  for  what  fellow- 
ship has  righteousness  with  unrighteousness  ?  And  what  communion 
hath  light  with  darkness  ?  And  what  concord  hath  Christ  witli  Belial  ? 
And  what  agreement  hath  the  temple  of  God  with  idols  ?"t  For  you 
are  the  temple  of  the  living  God,  if  you  are  Christians  ;  and  to  be  such 
I  trust  everyone  here  is  aspiring,  as  He  hath  said,  "I  will  dwell  with 
them  and  walk  in  them,  and  1  will  bless  them  ;  I  will  be  their  God, 
and  they  shall  be  my  people."  Therel'ore,  "  come  out  from  among 
them,  and  be  ye  separate,  saith  the  Lord;  touch  not  the  unclean 
thing,  and  1  will  receive  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters, 
saith  the  Most  High  God.":}: 


XIX. 

THE   EVILS   OF  IDOLATRY,   AND   THE   MEANS    OF   ITS 
ABOLI'^ION.^ 

Isaiah  ii.  18. — The  idols  He  shall  utterly  abolish. 

[preached    at    BRISTOL,   FOR    THE    BENEFIT    OF    THE    BAPTIST    MISSIONS, 
NOVEMBER    2,    1826.] 

The  progress  of  Christianity  in  the  world  has  already  been  so 
great  and  wonderful  as  to  carry  evidence  of  its  Divine  original,  and  of 
its  promised  final  triumph  over  every  false  religion.  Its  vast  effects 
have  been  produced  principally  by  the  simple  instrument  of  preaching 
its  doctrines,  attended  by  the  promised  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
The  same  instrument,  attended  by  the  same  influence,  may  be  rea- 
sonably expected  to  effect  the  ultimate  conversion  of  all  the  nations. 
This  most  desirable  object  we  are  on  the  present  occasion  assembled 
to  promote. 

It  is  agreed  by  expositors,  that,  in  the  connexion  of  the  text,  the 
success  of  the  gospel  is  predicted  :  as  a  remarkable  feature  by  which 

*  Psalm  xcv.  7,  8.  t  2  Cor.  vi.  14-16.  X  2  Cor.  vi.  17,  18. 

$  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Grinfield. 


488  THE  EVILS  OF  IDOIATRY, 

its  success  would  be  distinguished,  the  destruction  of  idolatry  is  men- 
tioned in  the  words  I  have  selected  ;  in  which  two  things  are  proposed 
to  our  attention, — the  evil  to  be  abolished,  and  the  means  of  its  abolition. 

I.  'I'he  evil  to  be  abolished.  Tiiis,  as  you  will  observe,  is  idolatry. 
It  has  been  commonly  and  very  properly  distinguished  as  of  two 
kinds,  literal  and  spiritual.  The  latter,  or  spiritual  idolatry,  is  an  evil 
which,  by  the  apostacy  of  our  nature,  attaches  to  all  mankind,  whe- 
ther inhabiting  Christian  or  pagan  regions,  except  those  individuals 
whose  hearts  have  experienced  a  renovation  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  It 
is  to  ttie  former,  or  literal  idolatry,  that  the  prophet  in  the  text  refers : 
tliis  the  connexion  shows,  where  mention  is  made  of  those  idols  of 
silver  and  gold,  which  the  converted  idolaters  would  cast  awav.  The 
progress  of  Christianity  was,  from  the  first,  marked  by  the  cessation 
of  idol  worship ;  and  this  was  effected  by  the  same  means  which  are 
still  to  be  employed.  Men  were  called  to  turn  from  their  dumb  idols 
to  serve  the  living  God.  The  abandonment  of  a  false  worship  must 
prepare  the  way  for  a  moral  revolution :  men  must  cease  from  the 
adoration  of  images,  before  they  can  in  any  sense  be  worshippers  of 
the  true  Jehovah. 

There  are  two  principal  points  of  view  in  which  we  may  regard  the 
evil  nature  and  effects  of  idolatry ;  its  aspect  towards  God,  and  its 
aspect  towards  man.  In  the  former  aspect,  it  appears  as  a  crime  ;  in 
the  latter,  as  a  calamity :  thus  contemplated,  it  appears  as  an  evil 
destructive  equally  to  the  Divine  glory  and  to  human  happiness.  Man 
naturally  tends  to  this  evil ;  and  one  generation  after  another  grad- 
ually accumulated  the  follies  of  superstition,  till  it  reached  the  mon- 
strous extreme  of  gross  idolatry. 

1.  The  Word  of  God  everywhere  reprobates  idolatry  as  an  ahomi- 
nahlc  thing,  which  the  soul  of  God  abhors.  To  provide  against  this, 
was  a  principal  object  in  the  political  and  municipal  department  of  the 
Mosaic  law.  It  is  expressly  prohibited  by  the  first  and  the  second 
commandment  of  the  moral  law;  the  first  being  designed  to  confirm  the 
Avorship  of  the  true  God,  the  second  to  exclude  every  idolatrous  form 
of  worship.  Idolatry  makes  a  material  symbol  of  the  invisible  God  ; 
but  so  jealous  is  the  Divine  Being  of  his  own  honour,  that  he  has  forbid- 
den, not  only  the  worship  of  any  other  or  false  god,  but  even  the  wor- 
ship oi  Himself  hy  the  medium  of  a  graven  image.  The  golden  calf 
was  a  representative  of  the  God  of  Israel ;  and  the  calves  set  up  by 
Jeroboam  were  the  same :  yet  the  worship  of  the  golden  calf  occa- 
sioned the  slaughter,  by  the  Divine  command,  of  three  thousand  per- 
sons ;  and  the  executioners  of  Divine  vengeance  were  extolled  for 
having  forgotten  the  feelings  of  nature  towards  their  nearest  kindred  : 
every  man  was  commanded  to  slay  his  brother  or  his  son,  and  so  to 
consecrate  himself  to  the  Lord.*  Where  God's  honour  was  so  deeply 
concerned,  men  were  to  lose  sight  of  common  humanity.  When  the 
Israelites  were  tempted  by  the  artifices  of  Balaam  to  commit  idolatry 
at  Baal-peor,  twenty-four  thousand  were  slain  at  once ;  the  memory 
of  Phinehas  was  immortalized  on  account  of  the  holy  zeal  he  dis- 

*  E.voil.  xxxii.  29. 


AND  THE  MEANS  OF  ITS  ABOLITION.  489 

played  in  the  destruction  of  certain  conspicuous  offenders ;  and  the 
Moabites  were  devoted  to  extermination,  because,  in  this  respect,  they 
had  proved  a  snare  to  Israel.  According  to  the  Divine  appointment, 
credit  was  to  be  denied  to  the  testimony  of  an  idolater,  and  his  life 
was  to  be  taken  by  his  nearest  relative.  All  this  marks  the  dispo- 
sition, with  regard  to  idolatry,  of  that  Being  who  is  the  same  yester- 
day, to-day,  and  for  ever.  If  he  does  not  now  punish  it  as  he  once 
did,  it  is  not  that  he  hates  it  now  less  than  formerly  :  but  he  spares 
men,  that  they  may  be  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  his  will  and  his 
salvation  :  Now  he  commands  all  men  everyiL-here  to  repent,  because  he 
has  appointed  a  day  in  iddch  he  will  judge  the  world  hy  Jesus  Christ : 
and  he  desires  that  we,  who  have  received  the  gospel,  should  carry 
the  tidings  of  this  command  to  all  mankind. 

Idolatry  is,  with  respect  to  the  government  of  God,  what  treason  or 
rebellion  is  with  respect  to  civil  government.  It  is  the  setting  up  of 
an  idol  in  the  place  of  the  Supreme  Power ;  an  affront  offered  to  that 
Majesty  in  which  all  order  and  authority  is  combined  and  concen- 
tred, and  which  is  the  fountain  of  all  social  blessings.  Hence,  in  the 
eye  of  God  nothing  can  dilute  the  turpitude  or  diminish  the  guilt  of 
this  offence.  It  makes  no  difference  what  may  be  the  character  of 
the  rival:  there  is  still  an  entire  transfer  of  allegiance  from  the  blessed 
and  only  Potentate  to  a  palpable  usurper ;  and  the  guilt  remains 
the  same.  Were  we  even  to  suppose  the  character  of  the  idol  imma- 
culate as  that  of  Jesus  Christ  and  God  himself,  the  case  would  not  be 
materially  altered ;  an  invasion  would  still  be  committed  on  the  im- 
mense empire  of  the  Most  High.  Were  the  idol  even  cast  in  a  mould 
of  the  purest  moral  beauty,  it  would  still,  as  an  idol,  be  a  monster  * 
deserving  universal  execration. 

Idolatry  is  an  evil  which,  where  it  exists,  taints  every  apparent 
virtue  ;  because  it  destroys  the  soul  of  duty,  which  is  obedience  to 
the  Divine  will,  conformity  to  the  Divine  command.  Though  there 
exists  an  eternal  rectitude,  independent  of  written  revelation ;  yet  we, 
short-sighted  creatures,  must  resign  ourselves  to  be  guided  by  the 
revealed  will  of  God  :  conformity  to  this  is  our  only  sure  standard. 
And  the  Scriptures  everywhere  assure  us  that  nothing  is  acceptable  to 
God  that  is  not  done  under  the  influence  of  a  sincere  regard  to  his 
will.  This  is  perfectly  reasonable.  Suppose  a  person  to  do  acci- 
dentally, unintentionally,  just  what  you  would  wish  to  have  done  ;  yet 
if,  in  so  doing,  he  had  no  design  to  please  you,  will  his  conduct  satisfy 
you  as  if  he  had  acted  from  a  regard  to  your  wish,  as  your  devoted 
servant  ?  Your  will,  your  authority  never  entered  into  his  views  and 
motives;  and  can  he  expect  that  you  should  reward  him?  Thus 
nothing  is  done  rightly,  nothing  to  any  good  purpose,  where  God  is 
not  regarded :  the  single  eye  is  wanting  ;  and,  that  wanting,  the  whole 
body  is  full  of  darkiiess.  Men  may  do  much  good  from  merely  self- 
interested  or  ambitious  motives  ;  and  they  may  have  their  revard,  the 
only  reward  they  ever  sought,  in  success  and  applause.  Nebuchad- 
nezzar was  employed  by  God  as  a  rod  to  scourge  his  guilty  people ; 
and,  having  served  that  purpose,  was  cast  aside.     Pagan  philosophers 


490  THE  EVILS  OF  IDOLATRY, 

and  heroes  have  exercised  the  virtues  of  temperance  and  moderation 
without  the  least  advertence  to  the  Divine  will ;  and  hence,  as  Augus- 
tine remarks,  their  virtues  can  only  be  regarded  as  splendid  sins. 
"  God  was  not  in  all  their  thoughts  ;"  God  was  as  much  forgotten  in 
their  virtues  as  he  was  in  tlieir  vices ;  they  remained  as  dead  in  sin, 
because  as  dead  to  God,  as  ever.  They  sought  to  be  admired  and 
idolized  in  a  world  they  were  so  soon  to  quit  by  creatures  whose  applause 
was  of  no  value ;  and  they  were  just  as  destitute  of  spiritual  vitality 
as  the  most  profligate  of  their  fel low-mortals  !  Just  as,  amid  the 
awful  solemnities  of  the  last  day,  we  may  imagine  the  impassioned 
admirer  of  nature  or  art  beholding  with  regret  so  m;my  fair  objects 
and  heart-ravishing  scenes,  in  which  he  once  delighted,  all  alike  con- 
signed to  the  final  conflagration  ;  even  so  tlie  Christian  may  be  sup- 
posed, on  that  occasion,  touched  with  a  momentary  pang,  to  see  many 
who  here  excited  his  admiration,  many  who  perhaps  obtained  his 
esteem  and  awakened  his  tenderest  sympathies,  yet  numbered  at  last 
with  them  that  are  lost !  allliough  he  must  then  be  satisfiied,  in  a  degree 
inconceivable  at  present,  of  the  justice  of  tlieir  condemnation  ;  inas- 
much as  (whatever  they  might  have  been  besides)  they  were  dead  to 
God  ;  they  worsliipped  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator ;  they  were, 
in  the  essence  of  character,  idolaters. 

"With  respect  to  the  origin  of  idolatry,  it  is  probable  that  men  began 
by  raising  images  to  the  memory  of  departed  heroes,  and  afterwards 
transferred  their  homage  to  the  image  itself;  until  they  gradually 
descended  to  the  worship  of  the  meanest  objects,  even  those  which 
are  the  most  obscene  and  unutterable.  There  is  nothing  so  vile,  filthy, 
disgusting,  horrible,  that  has  not,  by  some  nation,  been  selected  as  an 
object  of  worsliip.  Happily,  we,  my  brethren,  are  situated  so  remote, 
both  in  time  and  place,  from  the  principal  of  these  abominations,  that 
we  are  able  to  form  only  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  the  enormous  folly 
to  which  they  have  proceeded. 

2.  But  we  turn  to  contemplate  idolatry  on  another  side ;  in  its 
aspect  towards  man,  its  influence  on  society. 

The  apostle  Paul  informs  us,  that  God  hath  shown  to  men  what 
maybe  known  concerning  himself;  that  his  invisible  being,  his  eternal 
power  and  godhead,  may  be  clearly  seen  and  understood  by  the  works 
of  creation ;  so  that  those  are  ivithout  excuse  who  have  changed  the 
glory  of  the  incorruptible  God  into  an  image  in  the  likeness  of  cor- 
ruptible man,  of  birds,  and  beasts,  and  reptiles.*  They  are  without 
excuse;  their  conduct  admits  of  no  apology:  wherefore,  as  the  apostle 
adds,  God  gave  them  up  to  a  reprobate,  a  base  and  undiscerning,  mind  ; 
and,  as  they  did  not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,  he  gave  them 
up  to  their  ovon  vile  affections,  and  left  them  to  violate  even  the  laws 
of  nature. 

The  origin  of  all  the  atrocities  they  committed  was  to  be  found  in 
aversion  to  God  ;  dislike  of  the  spirituality  and  purity  of  his  character ; 
a  desire,  like  Cain,  to  retire  from  the  presence  of  their  Maker ;  a  wish 
to  forget  a  Being  whose  character  they  knew  to  be  utterly  uncongenial 

*  Rom.  i.  19-25. 


AND  THE  MEANS  OF  ITS  ABOLITION.  491 

with  their  own.  This  disposition  originally  led  men  to  substitute  idols 
for  God.  Those  idols  would,  of  course,  be  conceived  of  a  character 
unlike  that  of  God.  Men  would  never  form  their  imaginary  deities 
after  the  model  of  him  whom  they  disliked  :  accordingly,  they  receded 
to  the  utmost  possible  distance  from  all  resemblance  to  the  holy, 
omniscient,  glorious  God  of  Abraham  and  of  Israel.  Impure  them- 
selves, they  were  not  disposed  to  adopt  a  God  of  purity ;  full  of 
malignant  passions,  they  would  form  no  conception  of  a  God  of  love 
— a  Father  pouring  out  his  blessed  fulness,  and  delighting  in  benefi- 
cence to  his  vast  family.  No  my  brethren,  their  gods  were  of  a 
different  description ;  vindictive  tyrants,  divided,  like  themselves,  in 
eternal  factions  and  contentions  ;  each  pursuing  his  favourite  objects 
and  patronising  liis  adopted  party. 

Homer,  the  first  who  appears  to  have  composed  a  regular  picture 
of  idolatry,  paints  his  Jupiter,  or  supreme  deity,  as  deficient  in  every 
divine  attribute  ;  in  omnipotence,  injustice,  and  even  in  domestic  peace. 
He  paints  Juno  as  the  victim  of  eternal  jealousy  ;  and  with  good 
reason  for  her  jealousy,  when  the  earth  was  peopled,  according  to 
Homer,  with  the  illegitimate  progeny  of  Jupiter,  to  whom  almost  every 
hero  traced  his  pedigree.  Mars  was  the  personification  of  rage  and 
violence;  Mercury  the  patron  of  artifice  and  theft.  How  far  such  a 
mythology  influenced  the  character  of  its  votaries  it  is  perhaps  im- 
possible for  us  to  know :  nothing  could  be  more  curious  than  to  look 
into  the  mind  of  a  heathen.  But  it  is  certain  that  the  mind  must  have 
been  exceedingly  corrupted  by  the  influence  of  such  a  creed :  and 
probably  each  individual  idolater  would  be  influenced  by  the  deity 
whose  character  happened  to  be  most  accommodated  to  his  own 
peculiar  passions.  An  Achilles  would  emulate  a  Mars  in  ferocity  and 
deeds  of  blood :  a  Ulysses  would  be  a  Mercury  in  craft  and  strata- 
gem: while  the  ambitious  mind  of  an  Alexander  or  Julius  Ca?sar 
would  aspire  to  act  a  Jupiter  on  earth.  What  a  state  of  society  must 
that  be  in  which  no  vice,  no  crime  could  be  perpetrated  that  was  not 
sanctioned  by  the  very  objects  of  religious  worship!  What  a  religion 
that  which  exerted  an  antagonist  force  against  conscience,  itself ! — a 
religion  which  silenced  or  perverted  the  dictates  of  the  moral  sense, 
the  thoughts  that  should  either  accuse  or  excuse  %is  within  !  The  tem- 
ples of  Venus,  we  are  informed,  were  crowded  by  a  thousand  prosti- 
tutes, as  servants  and  representatives  of  that  licentious  goddess  ;  the 
very  places  of  their  worship  were  the  scenes  of  their  vices,  and 
seemed  as  if  they  were  designed  to  consecrate  the  worst  part  of  their 
conduct ! 

In  modern  India,  idolatry  is  exemplified  on  a  scale  scarcely  less 
extensive ;  and  everywhere  it  is  marked  by  two  leading  qualities, 
cruelty  and  iinpurity.  The  Hindoo  deities  are  of  a  ferocious  and 
sanguinary  character,  and  are  supposed  to  drink  out  of  the  sculls  of 
their  victims.  The  more  we  become  acquainted  with  these  idolaters, 
like  Ezekiel  when  he  surveyed  the  chambers  of  imagery,  we  discover 
only  the  greater  abominations.  In  their  system,  as  connected  with 
their  conduct,  there  is  a  perpetual  action  and  reaction;  vice  gene- 


492  THE  EVILS  OF  IDOLATRY, 

rating  idols,  and  idols  fortifying  vice.  First,  we  find  mere  abstractions 
of  the  mind  formed  concerning  the  Deity ;  these  are  next  imbodied  in 
idols ;  and  all  the  human  passions  are  enlisted  by  devotion  itself  on 
the  side  of  vice.  Here,  in  a  country  influenced  by  the  light  of  revela- 
tion, we  ai*e  accustomed  in  all  our  ideas  to  associate  religion  and 
morality  :  we  never  suppose  a  religious  man  can  be  any  other  than  a 
good  moralist ;  when  we  see  a  person  who  fears  God,  and  makes  a 
conscience  of  thoughts,  we  never  doubt  that  his  practice  is  correct ; 
his  word  is  as  an  oath  to  us ;  because  the  standard  he  adopts  is  the 
Divine  will,  and  he  is  himself  a  faint  image  and  adumbration  of  the 
moral  glory  of  God.  But  the  fire  of  piety,  instead  of  kindling,  would 
only  quench  the  fire  of  idolatry.  A  man  must  be  unfitted  for  that 
worship  in  exact  proportion  to  his  fear  and  love  of  God.  The  image 
of  Satan  must  displace  the  image  of  God  in  the  heart  of  every 
idolater. 

11.  Hitherto  we  have  attended  to  a  melancholy  subject,  and  have 
seen  only  the  nakedness  and  degradation  of  our  race.  AVe  must  now 
more  briefly  advert  to  a  brighter  scene,  presented  by  the  prophet,  when 
he  assures  us  that  Jesus  Christ  (of  whom  he  is  speaking)  will  utterly 
abolish  idolatr}',  and  sweep  it  from  the  face  of  the  earth  with  the  besom 
of  destruction ;  not  a  worshipper  of  idols  shall  be  left  at  last,  but  His 
wrath  shall  consume  that  man.  In  sending  the  gospel  to  the  heathen, 
you  oft'er,  as  it  were,  the  holy  incense,  like  Moses,  when  he  interposed 
between  God  and  the  perishing  Israelites  :  you  stand,  like  him,  between 
the  dead  and  the  living, — the  dead  and  the  living  for  eternity !  and 
you  stay  the  plague  ! 

No  sooner  did  Christianity  appear,  than  its  formidable  power,  as  the 
opponent  of  idolatry,  was  felt  and  manifested.  Pliny,*  writing  about 
seventy  years  after  the  death  of  Christ,  declared  to  the  Emperor 
Trajan,  that  in  the  province  of  Bithynia,  where  he  presided  as  pro- 
consul, the  temples  M'ere  nearly  deserted  :  a  striking  proof  how  rapidly 
tiie  system  of  paganism  gave  way  before  tlie  sword  of  the  Spirit 
wielded  by  the  primitive  missionaries.  One  unhappy  exception, 
indeed,  still  remains,  in  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the  Koniish  church ; 
but  the  triumphs  of  the  gospel  are  advancing,  and  as  we  have  lately 
seen  the  islands  of  the  South  Sea  casting  away  their  ancient  idols  to 
the  moles  and  to  the  bats,  so  sliall  every  system  of  idolatry  and  false 
worship  be  utterly  and  for  ever  overthrown. 

Preaching,  an  instrument  so  unpromising  in  the  view  of  carnal 
reason,  has  been  the  chief  instrument  employed  in  producing  these 
moral  revolutions.  When,  in  the  ivisdom  of  God,  the  v-orld  by  wisdom 
hnew  not  God, — when  the  only  Being  against  whom  all  conspired  was 
the  Maker  of  all,  and  men  proved  themselves  to  be  blind  at  noonday, — 
it  pleased  God,  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  to  save  them  that  believe. 
Nothing  but  this  can  save  them :  wo  be  to  that  man  who  teaches  that 
there  is  any  other  method  of  salvation  than  the  preaching  Jesus  Christ. 
This  is  the  instrument  which  God  has  crowned  with  success.     Before 

*  Seethe  note  at  page 513. 


AND  THE  MEANS  OF  ITS  ABOLITION.  493 

the  rising  Sun  of  Righteousness,  idolatry  melted  away  as  wax  before 
the  fire ;  and  effects  the  reverse  of  those  produced  by  that  baneful 
system  attend  the  beneficent  progress  of  the  gospel.  Cruelty  and 
impurity  disappear  in  hohness  and  brotherly  love.  Christianity,  instead 
of  severing  the  ties  of  nature,  harmonizes  and  unites  the  most  distant 
from  each  other,  as  brethren ;  according  to  the  design  of  our  Saviour, 
that  he  should  gather  together  in  one  the  children  of  God,  that  were 
scattered  abroad :  while  those  who  before  were  stained  with  every  vice 
are  purified  in  their  hearts  and  conduct  by  the  influence  of  heavenly 
truth. 

In  proportion,  my  brethren,  as  you  value  the  blessings  of  religion, 
you  will  wish  that  others  should  partake  them  with  yourselves :  in 
proportion  as  you  are  disposed  to  pray,  Lord,  evermore  give  us  this 
bread,  you  will  desire  to  communicate  it  to  all  besides.  You  will  love 
your  brethren,  as  you  love  your  Saviour,  not  having  seen  either :  if  you 
have  been  divinely  taught,  this  will  be  your  feeling  in  regard  to  all 
mankind.  That  man's  heart  is  not  right  with  God  who  can  look 
unmoved  upon  the  vast  heathen  world,  lying  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins :  dead  by  a  moral,  a  voluntary  death,  such  as  cannot  be  pleaded 
in  arrest  of  the  Divine  judgment.  But  though  they  have  destroyed 
themselves,  in  God  is  their  help  ;  he  has  laid  help  on  one  that  is  mighty 
to  save,  even  to  the  uttermost.  Tlae  Father  has  appointed  his  beloved 
Son  to  be  the  dispenser  of  all  spiritual  blessings,  as  Pharaoh  ap- 
pointed Joseph  to  be  the  dispenser  of  bread  to  the  perishing  Egyptians  ; 
and,  as  Pharaoh  answered  every  application  by  saying,  "  Go  to 
Joseph  ;"  the  Father  says  to  sinners,  Go  to  Jesus  Christ  with  all  your 
wants ;  no  man  can  come  to  the  Father  but  by  him.  He  is  the  ark, 
in  which  all  the  hopes,  all  the  treasures  of  human  nature  are  re- 
posited  ;  in  him  is  all  the  fulness  of  God. 

A  cause  so  great  and  sacred  as  that  of  Christianity  absorbs  all  those 
differences  and  divisions,  of  a  minor  kind,  that  exist  among  us ;  and  I 
trust  and  believe  there  is  not  a  missionar}'  of  our  own  Baptist  com- 
munion who  would  not  infinitely  prefer  the  conversion  and  salvation 
of  one  soul,  to  making  the  whole  heathen  world  adopt  our  views  of  a 
disputed  and  comparatively  inconsiderable  ceremony.  If  there  is  such 
a  man,  I  am  no  party  to  his  sentiment ;  there  exists  no  communion 
between  us  ;  let  not  my  soul  enter  into  that  man's  secret !  No,  ray 
dear  brethren !  we,  I  trust,  have  far  higher  views ;  the  only  kind  of 
proselytes  we  desire  to  make  are  proselytes  to  God  and  Jesus  Christ ! 
In  the  promotion  of  such  a  cause  we  are  ready  to  forget  our  own 
denomination,  and  to  co-operate  with  every  other ;  we  feel  that,  with 
such  an  object  proposed,  were  we  to  sit  still,  the  very  stones  in  our 
streets  would  cry  out,  and  almost  rise  up  into  Bibles  and  missionaries  ! 
Contribute,  brethren,  to  the  support  and  extension  of  this  sacred  enter- 
prise, and  you  will  convert  uncertain  riches  into  the  means  of  bestowing 
the  true  richer, — of  diffusing  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;  your 
contributions  will  become,  in  the  hand  of  God,  Bibles,  instructions, 
prayers,  sermons, — the  messengers  of  saving  mercy  to  many  immortal 
souls. 


494  CHRIST'S  MISSION 


XX. 

CHRIST'S   MISSION  FOR  THE  ADOPTION  OF  SONS  IN  THE 
FULNESS  OF  TIME.* 

Gal.  iv.  4,  5. — But  when  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth 
his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that 
ivere  wider  the  law,  that  loe  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons. 

[pREAni?ED    AT    MEI.ROURNE,    NEAR    BOYSTON,    SEPTEMBER,    1827.] 

The  Galatians,  among  whom  Paul  had  taught  the  religion  of  Christ, 
were  soon  led  astray  as  to  some  of  its  most  essential  and  important 
doctrines,  by  the  arts  of  Judaizing  teachers. 

They  admitted  and  inculcated  the  obligation  of  circumcision  and 
other  ceremonies  of  the  ancient  law,  maintaining  thai  without  these 
men  could  not  be  saved ;  thereby  vacating  and  superseding  the  sacri- 
fice of  Christ,  and  denying  the  sufficiency  of  his  mediation  and  death 
for  the  salvation  of  sinful  men.  Of  these  Paul  testified,  that  if  any 
man  submitted  to  circumcision  on  this  ground,  with  a  view  to  procure 
acceptance  with  God,  or  as  any  ingredient  of  justification  in  his  sight, 
for  such  a  person  Christ  had  died  in  vain.  He  subverts  the  only 
foundation  laid  in  Zion,  by  mixing  those  observances  of  the  law  of 
Moses  which  were  typical  of  Christ  and  his  kingdom,  with  his 
satisfaction,  as  the  ground  of  acceptance  with  the  just  and  holy 
God. 

In  order  to  recall  the  Galatians  from  these  errors,  he  directs  their 
attention  in  the  words  just  read,  to  the  great  and  fundamental  doctrine 
of  Christ's  incarnation  and  atonement,  to  its  completeness  and  efficacy, 
not  only  in  saving  us  from  guilt  and  condemnation,  but  in  reinstating 
us  in  the  Divine  favour,  and  bestowing  on  us  inexpressible  privileges  : 
admission  into  his  family  and  the  reception  of  that  spirit  of  adoption 
which  is  the  spirit  of  his  Son,  whereby  Christians  feel  the  dispositions 
and  perform  the  duties  of  obedient  children  to  their  heavenly  Father. 
"  When  the  j'ulness  of  the  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made 
of  a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons ;  and  because  ye  are 
sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the  spirit  of  his  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying, 
Abba,  Father." 

In  these  words  there  are  three  things  that  demand  our  attention : 

I.  The  mission  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  mani- 
fested himself. 

II.  The  design  of  his  mission  ;  "  to  redeem  them  that  were  under 
the  law,  that  we  might  receive  tlie  adoption  of  sons." 

*  Printed  from  the  notes  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Baron  Gorney. 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  495 

III.  The  fitness  of  that  season  which  God,  in  his  infinite  wisdom, 
appointed  for  this  purpose  :  it  was  in  "  the  fuhiess  of  time." 

I.  In  the  first  place,  these  words  present  to  our  attention  the  great 
fact  of  Christ's  mission  from  the  Father,  and  his  appearance  in  our 
world.  Of  the  dignity  of  the  person  of  our  Saviour,  as  denoted  by 
the  expression,  "  God  sent  forth  his  Son,"  we  have  sufficient  notice  in 
various  parts  of  the  New  Testament. 

The  character  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God  is  placed  in  con- 
trast with  the  dignity  of  angelic  intelligences,  and  is  asserted  in  the 
first  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  "  God,  who  at  sundry 
times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  in  time  past  unto  the  fathers  by  the 
prophets,  hath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son,  whom  he 
hath  appointed  heir  of  all  things,  by  whom  also  he  made  the  worlds ; 
who  being  the  brightness  of  his  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person,  and  upholding  all  things  by  the  word  of  his  power,  when  he 
had  himself  purged  our  sins,  sat  down  on  the  right-hand  of  the 
Majesty  on  higli ;  being  made  so  much  better  than  they,  as  he  hath 
by  inheritance  obtained  a  more  excellent  name  than  they.  For  unto 
which  of  the  angels  said  he  at  any  time.  Thou  art  my  Son,  this  day 
have  I  begotten  thee  1  And  again,  I  will  be  to  him  a  Father,  and  he 
shall  be  to  me  a  Son  ?  And  again,  when  he  bringeth  in  the  first-begotten 
into  the  world,  he  saiih.  And  let  all  the  angels  of  God  worship  him. 
And  of  the  angels  he  saith,  Who  makelh  his  angels  spirits,  and  his 
ministers  a  flame  of  fire.  But  unto  the  Son  he  saith,  Thy  throne,  O 
God,  is  for  ever  and  ever ;  a  sceptre  of  righteousness  is  the  sceptre 
of  thy  kingdom."  To  denote  the  inexpressible  dignity  of  Jesus  Christ, 
as  being  one  with  the  Father  in  his  most  essential  prerogatives  and 
perfections,  he  is  here  styled  "  his  Son."  The  Father  gave  him  birth  ; 
he  came  into  the  world  having  existed  before  it ;  "  he  came  unto  his 
own,  and  his  own  received  him  not ;"  even  He,  that  Word  which  "  was 
with  God  and  was  God,"  and  without  whom  "  was  not  any  thing  made 
that  was  made  ;"  He,  the  Eternal  Word  and  Son  of  God,  "  became 
flesh :"  that  is,  assumed  our  nature,  "  and  dwelt  among  us."  His 
goings  forth  were  from  everlasting,  and  his  manifestations  among  the 
ancient  tribes  of  Israel  not  untrequent.  We  have  reason  to  believe 
that  those  symbolical  appearances  of  God,  by  which  the  patriarchs  and 
Moses  and  the  prophets  communed  with  the  Most  High,  were  antici- 
pated representations  and  appearances  of  Christ.  But  they  were 
occasional  and  transient,  and  in  them  he  wore  "  the  form  of  God ;" 
but  when  the  fulness  of  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth  his  Son  to  take 
up  his  abode  with  liuman  nature,  to  tabernacle  among  us. 

The  manner  in  which  this  manifestation  was  made,  and  the  leading- 
circumstances  attending  it,  are  marked  out  in  this  passage,  "  he  was 
made  of  a  woman,"  and  "  made  under  the  law."  Every  one  must 
be  aware  of  the  peculiarity  of  the  phrase,  made  of  a  wo?nan,  and  will 
no  doubt  infer  from  it  something  peculiar  in  the  circumstances  of  our 
Saviour's  birth.  Accordingly,  we  find  the  sacred  writers  distinctly 
inform  us  of  the  miraculous  production  of  our  Lord  by  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.     Thus  the  angel  saluted  the  blessed  Virgin,  "  the 


496  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

Holy  Ghost  shall  come  upon  thee,  and  the  power  of  the  Highest  shall 
overshadow  thee ;  therefore  also  that  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born 
of  thee  shall  be  called  the  Son  of  God."  In  every  possible  sense 
Jesus  Christ  possesses  tliis  character.  In  his  pre-existent  state  he 
was  the  Word  and  the  Son  of  God ;  in  his  human  nature  he  bore  that 
relation  as  being  the  immediate  production  of  the  Almighty ;  as  it  is 
also  said  of  Adam  in  the  genealogy  given  by  St.  Luke  that  he  was  the 
Son  of  God. 

This  particular  of  our  Saviour's  existence,  as  being  miraculously 
conceived  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  frequently  noticed  in  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  and  no  doubt  possesses  great  importance  in  the  plan  of 
redemption.  Thus  when  the  first  transgression  entered  into  the  world 
by  the  subtlety  of  Satan,  God  pronounced  this  curse  upon  that  apostate 
spirit,  who  presented  himself  under  the  semblance  and  form  of  a  ser- 
pent, "  Because  thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art  cursed  above  all  cattle, 
and  above  every  beast  of  the  field ;  upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and 
dust  thou  shalt  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life ;  and  I  will  put  enmity 
between  thee  and  the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed ;  it 
shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel."  No  satisfactory 
account  can  be  given  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  here  plainly  prophesied 
of  as  the  seed  of  the  woman,  but  in  the  circumstance  alluded  to  in  the 
passage  before  us ;  that  is,  his  miraculous  conception,  in  relation  to 
which  he  was  emphatically  and  peculiarly  made  of  a  woman,  stand- 
ing in  a  more  immediate  connexion  Avith  that  sex  than  the  other. 
When  God  was  pleased  to  afford  a  remarkable  and  illustrious  promise 
of  the  appearance  of  his  Son,  it  was  combined  with  the  mention  of 
this  particular,  "  the  Lord  himself  shall  give  you  a  sign  :  behold,  a 
virgin  shall  conceive  and  bear  a  son,  and  shall  call  his  name  Im- 
manuel,"  which  is  interpreted  by  the  evangelist  Matthew,  "  God  with 
us."  Again,  St.  Luke  saj^s,  "  Jesus  himself  began  to  be  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  being  (as  was  supposed)  the  son  of  Joseph ;"  plainly 
intimating  that  he  was  not  so,  but  was  in  reality  the  immediate  produc- 
tion of  a  Divine  power. 

In  the  second  chapter  of  the  first  epistle  to  Timothy,  notice  is  taken 
of  the  circumstances  attending  the  entrance  of  sin  in  the  first  trans- 
gression. When  inculcating  the  duty  of  silence  and  submission  on 
the  part  of  the  women,  and  particularly  in  the  church  of  Christ,  he 
says,  "  For  Adam  was  first  formed,  then  Eve ;  and  Adam  was  not 
deceived,  but  the  woman,  being  deceived,  was  in  the  transgression. 
Notwithstanding,  she  shall  be  saved  in  child-bearing"  (as  we  have  it ; 
but  it  is  improperly  rendered,  and  should  be  hj  child-bearing),  "if 
they  continue  in  faith  and  charity,  and  holiness  with  sobriety."  There 
is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  true  meaning  is  hy  the  child-bearing, 
referring  not  to  the  pains  of  parturition,  but  to  the  extraordinary  event 
of  the  birth  of  our  Saviour  in  a  miraculous  manner.  She  shall  be 
saved,  notwithstanding  she  was  the  means  of  human  ruin  by  admitting 
the  solicitations  of  Satan,  if  she  continue  in  the  exorcise  of  Christian 
virtue,  and  is  herself  a  faithl'ul  servant  of  the  Lord  God  ;  she  sliall  be 
saved  by  the  child-bearing,  by  that  signal  and  miraculous  child-bearing 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  497 

which  took  place  in  the  birth  of  the  Messiah.  The  apostle  is  not 
adverting  to  any  temporal  circumstance  ;  he  is  speaking  of  the  entrance 
of  sin  by  means  of  the  woman,  and  it  is  natural  to  throw  in  a  com- 
pensatory circumstance,  reminding  us,  that  as  the  inferior  sex  had 
been  the  source  of  human  perversion,  so  it  had  the  honour,  in  compen- 
sation, of  being  the  immediate  instrument  of  the  production  of  the 
Messiah,  by  whom  our  recovery  was  effected.  And  the  condition 
■which  follows,  "  if  they  continue  in  faith  and  charity,  and  holiness 
with  sobriety,"  puts  this  interpretation  beyond  doubt ;  as  there  is  the 
greatest  connexion  between  faith  and  virtue,  without  which  our  faith  is 
vain,  but  none  whatever  between  perseverance  in  holiness  and  exemp- 
tion from  the  pains  of  child-birth. 

The  circumstances  of  our  Saviour's  incarnation  placed  him  at  an 
immeasurable  distance  from  all  the  other  parts  of  the  human  race. 
He  was  the  immediate  production  of  God ;  by  his  divine  power  he 
was  conceived  of  tlie  Holy  Ghost,  and  thereby  completely  exempted 
from  the  taint  of  original  sin,  which  attaches  to  all  the  posterity  of 
Adam.  He  was  the  holy  thing  born  of  a  virgin.  He  Avas  by  consti- 
tution placed  in  the  same  state  as  our  first  parents  ;  he  underwent  a 
similar  but  severer  trial,  and  continued  to  maintain  his  innocence  against 
all  the  assaults  of  Satan,  overcoming  his  stratagems  by  his  wisdom 
and  sanctity,  and  his  violence  by  his  powers  of  endurance. 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  said  he  was  "  made  under  the  law."  The 
term  made  here  plainly  implies  that  he  was  put  into  a  situation  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  was  originally  natural  to  him.  Such  an 
expression  could  not  with  propriety  be  used  respecting  any  one  who 
was,  by  the  constitution  of  his  nature  and  at  every  period,  subject  to 
the  law.  It  is  best  illustrated  by  "  comparing  spiritual  things  with 
spiritual,"  and  adverting  to  the  striking  passage  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Philippians,  where  St.  Paul  is  inculcating  the  duty  of  condescension 
and  lowliness  among  Christians  :  "  Let  this  mind  be  in  you  which  was 
also  in  Christ  Jesus,  who,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not 
robbery  to  be  equal  with  God  ;  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation" 
(or  emptied  himself,  divested  himself  of  that  glory  which  he  had  before 
all  worlds),  "  and  took  upon  himself  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was 
made  in  the  likeness  of  men  ;  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man, 
he  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."  Here  we  see  Christ  is  set  forth  as  the  greatest  example 
of  condescension,  in  that,  though  he  bore  the  form  of  God,  yet  he 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of 
men.  These  particulars  could  not  have  evinced  any  humility  in  our 
Saviour,  on  the  supposition  of  his  having  no  previous  existence,  nor  a 
nature  higher  than  human.  No  person  was  ever  praised  for  humility 
in  that  respect,  that  he  was  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  or  appeared  as 
the  servant  of  the  Most  High  :  these  are  the  necessary  appendages  of 
his  condition  and  existence,  quite  foreign  from  his  will,  and  cannot  for 
a  moment  enter  into  the  consideration  of  that  part  of  his  moral  char- 
acter which  respects  lowliness  of  mind.  But  if  we  believe,  as  the 
Scriptures   tell  us,  that  Jesus   Christ  was   "  the  brightness   of  the 

Vol.  III.— I  i 


498  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  that  he  "was 
with  God  and  was  God,"  nothing  can  set  forth  his  condescension  in  a 
more  striking  point  of  view  than  his  taking  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  being  made  in  the  Hkeness  of  men.  Then,  indeed,  there 
was  room  for  choice  and  election  respecting  his  appearance  in  our 
world,  and  that  event  must  have  been  the  effect  of  his  own  purpose 
and  the  object  of  his  entire  complacency.  "  Forasmuch  as  the  children 
are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took  part 
of  the  same,  that  through  death  he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil." 

The  necessary  condition  of  every  creature,  however  exalted,  is  that 
of  submission  to  the  law  of  God.  The  obligation  of  obeying  his 
precepts  and  of  sustaining  his  penalties  in  case  of  the  violation  of 
them  is  inherent,  we  have  the  strongest  reason  to  believe,  in  every 
finite  nature.  We  cannot  dismiss  from  our  minds  the  connexion 
between  being  produced  by  the  Divine  Being  and  being  subjected  to 
his  law.  But  here  we  have  presented  to  us  a  new  and  extraordinary 
spectacle, — that  of  a  person  in  our  nature,  who  has  taken  upon  him 
that  nature  by  appearing  in  the  form  of  man,  and  thereby  lecome  sub- 
ject to  the  law  of  God.  He  was  "  made  under  the  law  ;"  whereas  all 
other  creatures  arc  under  it  by  the  very  terms  of  their  existence,  by 
the  very  condition  of  their  nature.  He  was  made  under  the  laio  as 
really  as  he  was  made  of  a  woman. 

Our  Lord  Avas  made  under  the  law  in  every  sense.  Divines  have 
generally  considered  that  Jesus  Christ  was  made  under  three  laws,  or 
under  the  law  considered  in  three  points  of  view.  First,  he  was  made 
under  the  ceremonial  law,  and  subject  to  all  its  rites  and  ceremonies. 
He  frequented  the  synagogue  and  the  temple  ;  he  was  circumcised  the 
eighth  day,  and  dedicated  to  the  Lord  in  the  usual  manner  ;  he  was 
observant  in  paying  the  dues  of  the  temple.  That  homage,  from 
which  he  was  exempt  as  the  Son  of  God,  he  submitted  to  observe, 
lest  the  Jews  should  take  offence.  In  no  part  of  his  conduct  do  we 
find  any  accusation  from  his  bitterest  enemies  of  violating  the  law, 
except  in  the  single  particular  of  his  working  miracles  on  the  Sabbath- 
day,  which  he  justified  by  showing  that  "man  was  not  made  for  the 
Sabbath,  but  the  Sabbath  for  man,"  and  that  "  it  is  lawful  to  do  good 
on  the  Sabbath-day."  In  every  other  respect  he  was  observant  of  the 
law  to  the  very  letter,  and  well  might  he  say  to  his  most  inveterate 
foes,  "  Which  of  you  convinceth  me  of  sin  ?" 

He  was  made,  also,  under  the  moral  law,  and  was  observant  of  all 
its  unchangeable  duties.  In  all  his  conduct  to  his  Heavenly  Father, 
to  his  fellow-creatures,  and  to  himself,  he  was  an  example  of  perfect 
piety,  benevolence,  and  purity.  There  was,  in  the  whole  of  his 
deportment,  that  whicli  spoke  him  to  be  the  "  Lamb  of  God,"  holy, 
without  blemish  and  without  spot.  "  Such  an  High-priest  became  us," 
was  suhed  to  our  circumstances,  and  alone  equal  to  our  exigence  and 
danger,  who  was  "  holy,  harndess,  undefiled,  and  separate  from  sin- 
ners." In  him  alone  was  exliibited  a  perfect  pattern  of  obedience  to 
the  law  of  God,  and  thereby  he  was  prepared,  in  part  at  least,  to  be 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  499 

an  oblation  for  the  sins  of  men.  Unless  he  had  been  a  spotless,  he 
could  not  have  been  an  acceptable  sacrifice :  but  as  his  human  nature 
rendered  him  an  appropriate  victim,  so  also  his  immaculate  purity- 
made  him  fit  in  respect  of  moral  quality  to  be  oflered  up  as  an  expia- 
tion to  Divine  justice. 

But,  besides  this,  he  was  made  under  the  mediatorial  lavi^, — a  more 
rigid  and  awful  one  than  any  other.  For,  standing  in  the  stead  of 
sinners,  representing  their  persons,  and  being  exposed  to  the  penalties 
of  a  broken  law,  he  endured  the  wrath  of  God  which  was  kindled 
against  us,  submitted  to  that  death  which  was  denounced  against  our 
transgressions,  and  "  by  death  destroyed  death."  He  came  into  the 
world  under  the  necessity  of  suffering ;  he  came  into  it  principally  for 
the  purpose  of  dying ;  death  was  the  end  of  his  life,  the  very  design 
of  his  being.  He  came  not  to  reign,  but  to  obey  ;  not  to  rejoice,  but 
to  sorrow  ;  not  to  live  a  life  of  ease  and  comfort,  of  dignity  and 
splendour,  but  of  poverty,  self-denial,  and  reproach  ;  and  then  to 
expire  in  agony  upon  the  cross.  This  was  the  very  object  of  his 
appearance  in  our  world,  and  of  this  he  never  lost  sight  for  a  moment, 
amid  the  highest  efforts  of  miraculous  exertion  and  the  loudest 
applauses  of  an  admiring  multitude.  "  I  have  a  baptism,"  he  says, 
"  to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accom- 
plished !" 

n.  Let  us  observe,  in  the  second  place,  whh  what  view  Jesus  Christ 
was  thus  "made  of  a  woman,"  and  "made  under  the  law."  It  was  to 
"  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law,  that  we  may  receive  the  adop- 
tion of  sons."  If  we  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was  that  glorious  per- 
sonage who  was  with  the  Father  before  all  worlds,  that  he  was  his  true 
and  proper  Son,  essentially  partaking  with  him  in  the  perfections  of 
Deity,  we  shall  not  admit  that  he  came  into  the  world  to  accomplish  a 
purpose  which  could  be  effected  by  other  means  or  by  an  inferior 
agent.  We  shall  be  inclined  to  assign  to  him  some  signal  achieve- 
ment to  which  the  properties  of  his  nature  and  the  elevation  of  his 
rank  were  alone  equal.  Whatever  end  could  have  been  accomplished 
by  an  inferior  person  we  shall  not  suppose  to  be  the  only  design  of  the 
incarnation  of  Christ.  For  He  who  doeth  nothing  in  vain,  and  wasteth 
no  power  in  carrying  his  purposes  into  effect.  He  who  is  frugal  in  the 
economy  of  creation,  who  is  frugal  in  the  economy  of  his  providence, 
would  not  lavish  a  superfluity  of  greatness  and  glory  upon  the  work 
of  our  salvation.  If  the  ends  to  be  attained  could  have  been  attained 
by  any  inferior  instrumentality,  those  instruments  would  have  been  em- 
ployed. If  the  Saviour  came  into  the  world  for  no  other  purpose  than 
that  of  teaching  a  true  doctrine,  it  is  plain  that  this  could  have  been 
done  by  the  agency  of  men  alone.  It  was  done  by  Moses,  who  riveted 
the  attachment  of  the  people,  from  generation  to  generation,  to  a 
burdensome  and  painful  ritual;  the  prophets  sufficiently  attested  their 
mission  from  Heaven,  and  were  regarded  by  all  the  pious  and  thinking 
part  of  the  Jewish  nation  with  the  profoundest  deference.  If  our 
Saviour,  therefore,  came  into  the  world  to  reveal  a  fact,  such  as  a  future 
life,  and  exemplify  it  in  his  own  person,  nothing  more  was  necessary 

113 


500  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

than  that  he  should  be  a  human  being.  Those,  however,  who  beheve 
that  Jesus  Christ  possessed  a  higher  nature,  that  he  was  the  Son  of 
God,  a  Divine  person,  will  admh,  of  course,  that  the  end  of  his  mani- 
festation could  not  have  been  effected  at  less  cost. 

This  leads  us  to  consider  him  as  the  Redeemer.  He  came  not 
merely  to  exemplify  a  rule  of  life,  but  to  satisfy  its  violation  ;  he  came, 
not  to  explain  the  statutes  of  Heaven,  but  to  pay  the  penalty  arising 
from  the  curse  denounced  against  their  transgression.  He  came  essen- 
tially to  change  the  moral  situation  of  mankind,  to  roll  away  that  mass 
of  human  guilt  which  lay,  lilce  the  stone  on  our  Saviour's  grave,  en- 
tombing all  their  hopes,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for  them  to  recover 
themselves  from  the  condemnation  and  ruin  in  which  they  were 
involved. 

Those  who  dispute  the  divinity  of  Christ  act  consistently  in  ex- 
plaining away  his  sacrifice  and  atonement ;  the  two  doctrines  are 
inseparably  connected,  and  must  stand  or  fall  together.  But  they  who 
are  not  so  taught,  but  believe,  in  deference  to  apostolic  testimony,  that 
Jesus  Christ  "  was  with  God"  and  "  was  God,"  will  admh,  with  the 
greatest  readiness  and  gratitude,  that  he  came  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
demption. And  how  is  this  effected  ?  Jesus  Christ  was  made  under 
the  law,  who  was  not  originally  under  it,  for  the  purpose  of  producing 
that  righteousness,  and  creating  that  fund  of  merit  in  the  eyes  of  an 
infinitely  wise  and  holy  Being,  which  should  be  imputed  for  the  benefit 
of  penitent  believers,  by  dying  on  the  cross  a  death  which  he  never 
merited  ;  and  thus  working  out  a  justification  from  which  the  spiritual 
wants  of  all  mankind  should  be  supplied,  if  they  received  his  testimony 
and  believed  on  his  name.  The  character  in  which  he  appeared  was 
that  of  a  substitute  ;  it  was  also  that  of  days-man,  a  person  who  me- 
diates between  two  contending  parties  for  the  purposes  of  reconcilia- 
tion. He  alone,  being  God  as  well  as  man,  and  thus  laying  his  hands 
on  both,  was  capable  of  accomplishing  this  great  object ;  of  satisfying 
the  Divine  justice,  and  opening  for  guilty  creatures  an  approach  to  the 
throne  of  heaven.  "  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  "  He  was  oppressed  and 
he  was  afflicted ;"  or,  as  it  is  translated  by  Lowth  (and  very  accu- 
rately, in  my  humble  opinion),  "  it  was  exacted  of  him,  and  he  was 
made  answerable."  The  vicarious  nature  of  Christ's  sacrifice,  the 
vicarious  character  of  his  appearance  on  earth,  runs  through  all  the 
statements  in  the  New  Testament.  It  is  on  this  account  that  our 
warmest  gratitude  is  challenged,  and  our  strictest  obedience  required. 
"  The  love  of  Clirist,"  says  tlie  apostle,  "  constraineth  us,  because  we 
thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for  all  then  were  all  dead  ;  and  that  he 
died  for  all  that  they  which  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  them- 
selves, but  unto  him  which  died  for  them  and  rose  again."  "  The  Son 
of  man  came  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many."  "  He  that  knew  no 
sin  was  made  sin  for  us."  "  He  was  delivered  for  our  offences,  and 
raised  again  for  our  justification." 

It  is  undoubtedly  for  the  wisdom  of  the  Divine  majesty  to  determine 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  501 

whether  the  law  shall  take  its  original  course,  or  receive  such  a  diver- 
sion as  shall  ensure  all  the  objects  for  which  it  was  designed.  It  be- 
longs, indeed,  to  the  Divine  Being  to  be  just ;  but  if  all  the  ends  of 
justice  be  obtained  by  the  substitution  of  another  in  the  place  of  the 
offender,  shall  we  impose  limits  on  the  decisions  of  the  Almighty,  and 
say  that  the  right  of  dispensing  with  a  law,  as  to  the  exact  direction  it 
may  take,  is  not  within  the  prerogative  of  Him  by  whom  it  was  made 
and  promulgated? 

It  belongs  to  him  whose  law  is  offended  to  determine  in  what  way 
he  will  treat  the  offender ;  and  it  is  perfectly  competent  for  him  to 
satisfy  his  own  justice  by  some  other  method,  and  to  substitute  for  the 
death  of  the  criminal  the  sacrifice  and  mediation  of  another,  provided 
all  the  purposes  which  could  have  resulted  from  the  condign  punish- 
ment of  sinners  be  equally  effected. 

But  believing,  as  we  do,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  a  Divine  person,  the 
law  of  God  is  magnified  by  his  death  ;  the  glory  of  the  Divine  charac- 
ter as  a  holy  being,  his  hatred  of  sin,  his  attachment  to  the  law  as  a 
law  of  purity,  appear  to  be  greatly  enhanced,  and  recommended  to  our 
notice  with  the  highest  advantage,  in  consequence  of  this  sublime  and 
astonishing  event.  If  our  Saviour  was  indeed  the  Son  of  God,  "  the 
brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  then,  to 
see  him  exhibited  on  the  cross,  dying  under  the  Divine  wrath,  and  cry- 
ing in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  "  My  God  !  my  God  !  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me  V  is  to  behold  a  more  costly  offering  to  Divine  justice,  a 
more  glorious  assertion  of  the  majesty  of  the  law  of  God,  than  could 
have  been  displayed  in  the  punishment  of  millions  of  creatures,  or  of 
worlds.  Here  we  see  the  glory  of  the  Divine  character  shining  forth 
in  a  manner  the  most  consistent,  harmonious,  and  consolatory,  in  the 
propitiation  of  Christ.  Him  hath  God  "  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righteousness  for  the  remission 
of  sins  that  are  past,  through  the  forbearance  of  God,"  "  that  he  might 
be  just,  and  the  justifier  of  him  which  believeth  in  Jesus." 

He  came  "  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law ;"  and  under 
this  comprehensive  title  is  included  all  mankind ;  Jews  and  gentiles, 
bond  and  free,  learned  and  unlearned  ;  wherever  human  nature  is  dif- 
fused transgression  is  diffused  with  it ;  wherever  a  child  of  Adam  is 
found  there  is  found  one  who  is  under  the  law  ;  it  is  a  part  of  his 
nature,  it  is  a  condition  of  his  being,  to  be  born  under  the  law.  But  as 
many  as  are  under  the  law  "  are  under  the  curse  ;  for  it  is  written. 
Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  written 
in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."  It  is  for  deliverance  from  this 
curse,  which  extinguishes  every  ray  of  hope,  and  shuts  us  up  to  eternal 
darkness,  that  we  are  indebted  entirely  to  the  mediation  of  our  blessed 
Redeemer.  He  has  delivered  us  "  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being 
made  a  curse  for  us." 

We  have  yet  to  distinguish  what  is  the  effect  of  the  Divine  appoint- 
ment, and  what  is  the  natural  result,  in  the  great  transactions  connected 
with  the  sufferings  of  Christ.  It  is  the  effect  of  Divine  appointment 
that  Jesus  Christ  became  incarnate,  that  he  was  made  capable  of  dying 


602  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

by  assuming  a  fra,il  and  finite  nature.  This  is  to  be  resolved  solely 
into  the  sovereign  pleasure  of  God  ;  no  reason  can  be  assigned  for  it 
but  his  infinite  mercy,  no  other  explanation  given  than  that  "  God  is 
love."  But  when  we  look  at  this  event  in  another  stage  of  it,  when 
we  consider  Jesus  Clirist  as  placed  under  these  circumstances,  as 
actually  "  made  of  a  woman,"  and  "  made  under  the  law,"  by  that 
mysterious  union  of  the  Divine  and  human  natures  ;  when  we  contem- 
plate him  as  performing  what  he  did  perform,  and  suffering  what  he  did 
suffer,  as  owr  substitute  and  on  our  account, — the  necessary  consequence 
is  such  a  vindication  of  the  Divine  character,  such  a  display  of  the 
holiness  and  justice  of  God,  that  no  lower  effect  could  result  from  it 
than  the  justification  and  acceptance  of  all  penitent  believers.  Christ 
could  not  but  merit  eternal  life,  and  purchase  for  us  the  blessings  of  a 
glorious  immortality,  if  we  are  interested  by  faith  in  the  benefits  of  his 
redemption.  The  economy  of  our  redemption  proceeds  entirely  from 
God,  but  the  connexion  of  its  parts  is  not  entirely  ca-bitrary.  They 
cohere  together  necessarily  ;  and  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  is  effectual  for 
the  salvation  of  his  people,  not  merely  because  God  chose  to  annex 
such  a  value  to  it  as  might  have  been  transferred  to  the  blood  of  bulls 
and  goats,  but  because  the  blood  poured  forth  upon  the  cross  was  the 
blood  of  his  own  Son.  It  is  the  dignity  of  the  victim  which  has  com- 
pletely satisfied  the  justice  of  the  Almighty ;  and  the  redundancy  of 
his  merits  that  has  procured  for  us  higher  blessings  than  we  can  either 
imagine  or  comprehend. 

The  apostle  speaks  with  the  greatest  confidence,  in  contrasting  the 
vain  sacrifices  of  the  law  with  the  inherent  sufficiency  of  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ.  "  If  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  and  the  ashes  of  an 
heifer,  sprinkling  the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to  the  purifying  of  the  flesh, 
how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ,  who,  through  the  eternal 
Spirit,  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God,  purge  your  conscience 
from  dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God  !"  "  The  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ,  his  Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin."  He  has  effected  for  us, 
necessarily,  an  entire  exemption  from  all  liabiUty  to  punishment,  and 
procured  us  a  title  to  the  blessedness  of  heaven,  because  he  was  the 
Son  of  God ;  and  we  are  interested  in  him. 

It  is  said,  moreover,  that  he  redeemed  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  they  "  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons."  The  immediate 
effect  of  Christ's  death  is  tlie  imputation  of  his  righteousness  to  the 
believer,  and  this  rigliteousness  produces  an  instant  acquittal  from 
punislunnnt ;  but  such  was  the  exuberance  of  his  merits,  such  the  dig. 
nity  of  his  person,  and  the  high  complacency  of  the  Father  in  his 
work,  that  it  was  worthy  of  him  to  bestow  on  them  who  were  mem- 
bers of  his  Son  greater  blessings  than  those  which  their  first  parents 
had  forfeited.  It  was  not  merely  to  relieve  from  misery  that  Christ 
died ;  it  was  not  only  justification  that  was  the  fruit  of  his  sufferings ; 
but  adoption  into  tlie  family  of  heaven,  the  privileges  of  sons  and 
daughters  for  all  his  believing  people.  In  consequence  of  being  united 
to  Christ  by  faith  and  the  Spirit,  we  partake  of  his  peculiar  preroga- 
tives ;  and  because  he  was  the  Son  of  God,  God  has  "  sent  forth  the 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  503 

Spirit  of  his  Son  into  our  hearts,  crying,  Abba,  Father."  Thus  we 
are  "  no  longer  servants,  but  chikh-en,  being  made  nigh  to  him  by  the 
blood  of  Christ,"  and  raised,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  to  a  greater 
height  of  happiness  and  glory  than  we  could  have  aspired  to  reach 
had  we  continued  in  a  state  of  immaculate  purity.  Christ  has  added 
to  our  original  brightness  ;  he  has  not  only  redeemed  us  from  the  first 
transgression,  but  accumulated  blessings  which  man,  even  in  innocence, 
could  never  have  obtained. 

"  Where  sin  abounded  grace  did  much  more  abound  ;  that  as  sin 
hath  reigned  unto  death,  even  so  might  grace  reign  through  righteous- 
ness unto  eternal  life,  by  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  Now  every  humble 
believer,  every  penitent  approaching  to  the  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of 
God,  when  he  feels  his  conscience  relieved  from  a  sense  of  guilt,  finds 
at  the  same  time,  through  the  anointing  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  a  peace 
and  joy,  a  confidence  and  trust  springing  up  in  his  mind,  which  bespeaks 
a  new  relation ;  he  approaches  the  Divine  Being  in  a  domestic  char- 
acter ;  he  says.  My  Father  !  God  discloses  to  him  his  tenderest  com- 
passion, taking  him,  as  it  were,  to  his  arms,  rejoicing  over  him,  and 
making  him  a  son  and  heir  of  the  Most  High  God.  Therefore, 
henceforth  he  walks  with  God  as  a  dear  child,  an  imitator  of  his  per- 
fections, a  sharer  of  the  fulness  of  the  glory  of  his  heavenly  Father. 
"  Behold  what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  on  us,  that 
we  should  be  called  the  sons  of  God."  Such  appellations  as  these  it 
would  have  been  impious  to  assume,  if  God  himself  had  not  revealed 
them  to  us  in  his  Word,  such  privileges  never  entered  into  the  contem- 
plation of  men  in  the  most  exalted  state  of  perfection.  God  hath 
"  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem 
ihem  that  were  under  the  law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of 
sons.  And  because  ye  are  sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the  Spirit  of  his 
Son  into  your  hearts,  crying,  Abba,  Father !" 

Recollect,  that  if  we  are  under  the  law,  it  is  in  consequence  of  not 
having  approached  to  Christ  by  faith,  and  not  having  received  the 
testimony  of  God  respecting  him.  Recollect,  also,  that  if  we  are 
under  the  law,  we  are  under  the  curse  :  no  middle  state  can  be  devised  ; 
there  is  no  state  between  a  state  of  condemnation  and  a  state  of  justi- 
fication, the  legal  state,  which  is  one  of  bondage  and  fear,  and  the 
filial  state,  which  is  one  of  confidence  and  joy ;  no  medium  between 
that  state  of  distance  from  God  in  which  he  appears  as  an  enemy,  and 
the  condition  of  being  adopted  into  his  family  and  an  heir  of  his  king- 
dom. There  is  an  infinite  variety  in  the  human  character,  there  is 
nothing  more  mutable  than  the  apparent  state  of  man  ;  but  there  is 
an  impassable  barrier,  a  fixed  line  of  demarkation,  which  separates 
the  children  of  God  from  the  children  of  the  devil.  Those  who  do 
not  receive  Christ  by  faith  remain  under  the  law,  and  are  exposed  ti» 
all  its  penalties  ;  tliey  live  under  its  curse  ;  at  home,  abroad,  in  solitude, 
in  company,  in  suffering,  in  joy,  in  life  and  death,  in  every  scene  of 
existence,  in  every  variety  of  condition,  the  wrath  of  God,  like  a  dense 
cloud,  hangs  over  them,  replete  whh  all  the  elements  of  misery  and 
despair ;  and  it  must  break  upon  them  sooner  or  later.     It  approaches 


504  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

nearer  and  nearer  :  and  is  only  prevented,  by  the  slender  thread  on 
which  their  hfe  depends,  from  discharging  its  fury  on  their  devoted 
heads.  Nothing  can  save  but  the  death  of  Christ,  no  other  name  is 
given  under  heaven ;  this  is  the  object  to  which  the  eye  of  faith  must 
be  ever  directed, — "the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of 
the  world,"  Have  you  looked  to  Him?  Look  into  yourselves,  and 
you  find  nothing  but  matter  for  despondency ;  look  into  your  own 
hearts,  and  into  your  own  conduct,  and  your  performances  will  but 
remind  you  of  the  inadequacy  and  imperfection  of  your  obedience. 
Know  yourselves,  and  you  know  only  what  must  minister  to  despair ; 
but  "  this  is  eternal  life,  to  know  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  he  hath  sent."  If  you  come  to  Christ  and  commune  with  him, 
you  will  find  that  poverty  is  exchanged  for  riches ;  condemnation  for 
justification  ;  dismay,  and  fear,  and  distrust  of  God,  for  a  firm  reliance 
on  his  promises,  a  strong  hold  on  his  mercy,  and  a  filial  relation  to 
him  as  your  heavenly  Father. 

We  might  suppose  that,  if  men  believed  these  truths  in  any  degree, 
they  would  all  be  either  rejoicing  in  Christ's  redemption,  or  earnestly 
pressing  forward  to  obtain  it ;  that  every  assembly  would  be  divided 
into  two  classes, — those  who,  having  embraced  the  salvation  which  is 
by  Christ,  find  in  him  the  joy  and  comfort  of  their  lives,  and  those 
who,  not  having  found  this  inestimable  treasure,  are  earnestly  desiring 
to  possess  it,  and  sedulously  devoted  to  the  search. 

But  that  there  should  be  persons  neutral  and  unconcerned,  believing 
at  the  same  time  that  the  wrath  of  God  is  kindled  against  them,  that 
they  are  hastening  to  the  Divine  tribunal,  and  that  those  who  die  in 
their  sins  will  sink  into  destruction,  is,  indeed,  infatuation  that  wants  a 
name;  angels  look  upon  it  with  unutterable  surprise,  and  their  joy  is 
proportionably  great  when  they  see  one  sinner  repenting.  But  if  there 
is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  bright  inhabitants  of  heaven  over  a  con- 
verted soul,  what  should  be  the  joy  of  those  to  whom  the  intelligence 
of  a  Saviour  is  brought,  who  are  invited  to  partake,  of  the  salvation 
which  is  prepared  for  them,  and  pressed  to  enter  into  alliance  with 
God  t  Hear,  then,  the  proclamation  which  is  made  to  every  one  of 
you  :  "  Look  unto  mc,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth,  for  I 
am  God,  and  there  is  none  else  !"  "  Fury  is  not  in  me ;  Avho  would 
set  the  briers  and  thorns  against  me  in  battle  1  I  would  go  through 
them  ;  I  would  burn  them  together :  or  let  him  take  hold  of  my  strength, 
that  he  may  make  peace  ;  and  he  shall  make  peace  with  me."  "  As 
I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked,  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live ;  turn  ye,  turn 
ye  from  your  evil  ways,  for  why  will  ye  die  ?" 

These  are  truths  which  you  have  heard  from  time  to  time,  but  they 
are  not  on  that  account  less  essential  to  your  welfare  ;  for  that  very 
reason  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be  reiterated,  and  that  the 
"  pure  minds"  of  the  most  eminent  Christians  should  "  be  stirred  up" 
by  tliem  to  fresh  diligence  and  zeal.  They  are  the  bread  of  life,  the 
food  of  the  family  of  God  ;  all  real  Christians  taste  of  them,  and  are 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  505 

sustained  and  fitted  by  them  for  all  the  functions  and  duties  of  the 
Christian  warfare. 

Until  you  partake  of  this  bread  you  have  no  life  in  you :  the  spirit 
is  dead,  the  soul  is  withered  and  blasted,  torpid  and  inactive,  and  lost 
to  Grod  ;  there  is  no  vital  union  between  you  and  the  Father  of  Spirits, 
you  are  severed  from  the  spring  of  all  felicity,  by  being  in  a  state  of 
alienation  from  God.  Then  you  will  begin  to  live  indeed,  to  know  the 
Divine  life,  when  you  come  and  taste  of  the  salvation  of  God,  when 
you  cast  yourselves  on  the  mercy  of  the  Saviour,  and  say,  "  Lord, 
save,  or  we  perish."  Then  the  mercy  of  God  will  be  revealed  unto 
you,  and  you  will  one  day  join  in  singing  "  a  new  song,  the  song  of 
Moses  and  the  Lamb,"  which  none  can  sing  but  they  who  are  redeemed 
from  the  earth. 

in.  In  the  third  place,  permit  me  to  observe,  that  we  have  presented 
to  us,  in  this  passage,  the  fitness  of  the  season  at  which  Jesus  Christ 
was  manifested  ;  it  is  described  as  "  the  fulness  of  time."  It  was  the 
fulness  of  time,  because  it  was  the  period  foretold  by  the  prophet* ; 
Jesus  Christ  appeared  exactly  at  the  time  predicted  by  those  who 
"spake  as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost." 

It  was  foretold  by  Jacob,  in  his  dying  moments,  that  it  was  to  take 
place  before  poluical  power  departed  from  Judah.  "  The  sceptre 
shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  a  lawgiver  from  between  his  feet, 
until  Shiloh  come,  and  unto  him  shall  the  gathering  of  the  people  be." 
Our  Saviour  appeared  at  that  critical  period  ;  the  sceptre  had  recently 
departed  from  Judah,  the  semblance  of  political  power  had  vanished 
from  the  Jewish  nation,  Herod  had  reigned  for  some  time,  and  it  was 
evident,  therefore,  that  He  that  was  to  come  was  at  hand. 

It  was  foretold  that  it  was  to  be  during  the  existence  of  the  second 
temple.  The  prophet  Haggai  thus  comforts  those  who  had  witnessed 
the  splendours  of  the  first,  and  mourned  over  the  meanness  of  the 
second  as  compared  with  that  of  Solomon :  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts.  Yet  once  a  little  while,  and  I  will  shake  the  heavens,  and  the 
earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the  dry  land :  and  I  will  shake  all  nations,  and 
the  desire  of  all  nations  shall  come,  and  I  will  fill  this  house  with 
glory,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  The  silver  is  mine,  and  the  gold  is 
mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  The  glory  of  this  latter  house  shall 
be  greater  than  of  the  former,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts  ;  and  in  this 
place  will  I  give  peace,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts."  As  if  he  had  said, 
I  can  easily  accumulate  riches  far  exceeding  those  which  Solomon 
collected,  and  which  may  be  lavished  by  the  monarchs  of  the  earth  in 
all  the  exuberance  of  their  wealth,  "  the  silver  and  the  gold  are  mine ;" 
but  I  will  bestow  on  this  house  a  nobler  gift,  here  will  I  display  a 
costlier  treasure,  "  in  this  place  will  I  give  peace."  There  Jesus 
Christ,  the  great  peace-maker,  preached  the  gospel  of  peace ;  in  that 
temple  he  wrought  many  of  his  miracles ;  and  in  its  immediate 
vicinity,  on  Mount  Calvary,  offered  himself  up  for  the  sins  of  the 
world. 

It  was  foretold,  moreover,  that  it  should  be  within  "  seventy  weeks" 
from  the  period  marked  out  by  Daniel ;  and  though  some  difficulty 


506  CHRIST'S  MISSION 

exists  as  to  the  mode  of  computation,  yet,  on  every  principle  it  is  plain 
that  they  have  long  since  elapsed  ;  and  the  Jews  are,  therefore,  under 
the  greatest  delusion  in  looking  for  the  Messiah  at  a  future  period. 
Indeed,  such  is  the  antipathy  of  the  Jews  to  this  prophecy,  that  it 
is  a  popular  proverb  among  them,  "  Cursed  is  he  that  counteth  the 
weeks." 

In  short,  all  the  characters  of  time,  though  they  are  not  very  nume- 
rous, as  they  are  not  equally  important  with  some  others,  and  were 
probably  revealed  only  for  the  purpose  of  uniting  the  expectations  of 
the  Jews  to  a  particular  and  defined  period  ;  all  these  characters  per- 
fectly conspire  with  the  era  of  Christ's  appearance.  It  was  on  this 
account,  probably,  that  such  a  general  expectation  existed,  when  Christ 
came,  of  the  near  approach  of  some  exalted  personage.  In  former 
times,  no  one  was  asked  whether  he  was  the  Christ ;  but  no  sooner 
had  John  begun  to  preach  a  holy  doctrine  than  the  question  was  put 
to  him,  "Art  thou  the  Christ,  or  do  we  look  for  another?"  This 
expectation  is  noticed  by  heathen  writers  as  prevailing  over  great  part 
of  the  East,  but  especially  in  Judea  and  the  surrounding  coiuitry. 
It  was  during  a  peiiod  of  the  profoundesl  peace;  the  temple  of  Janus 
was  shut,  and  all  nations  were  kept  as  in  a  state  of  watcliful  silence, 
waiting  for  the  appearance  of  this  Divine  Person,  and  with  ears  open 
to  catch  tlie  accents  of  his  "  still  small  voice." 

It  was  also  a  period  of  considerable  advancement  in  politics,  in 
legislation,  in  science  and  arts,  and  manners  ;  mankind  were  in  a  great 
degree  civilized  ;  learning  had  long  flourished,  and  the  most  brilliant 
geniuses  had  appeared  that  had  ever  adorned  the  annals  of  human 
kind.  It  was  therefore  a  most  favourable  time  to  prevent  imposture  in 
matter  of  fact.  It  was  also  an  age  the  farthest  removed  from  that 
credulity  which  distinguishes  ignorant  nations  :  an  age  of  skepticism, 
Avhen  disbelief  of  all  religion  prevailed  to  a  great  extent  among  the 
learned.  The  Epicurean  doctrine,  which  maintained  the  indifference 
of  human  actions  and  the  cessation  of  existence  at  deatli,  had  swal- 
lowed up  all  other  sects.  The  disciples  of  this  pliilosopby  denied  a 
Deity,  or  asserted  such  an  ideal  one  as  remains  in  a  state  of  torpor 
and  inactivity,  heedless  of  the  concerns  of  this  lower  world.  No 
period  could  be  conceived  so  little  adapted  to  the  exhibition  of  a  false, 
and  so  well  calculated  to  put  to  the  test  the  merits  of  a  true  religion. 
They  had  wits  sharpened  by  curiosity,  so  that  they  would  eagerly 
inquire  after  whatever  was  new ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  they  were 
disposed  to  treat  with  contempt  that  which  pretended  to  be  super- 
natural. They  had  long  been  accustomed  to  laugh  at  their  own  gods  ; 
and  though  they  might  imagine  that  there  was  some  safety  attached 
to  the  ancient  superstitions,  yet  in  their  private  life  and  expectation,  it 
is  evident  that  they  did  not  in  the  least  connect  any  serious  anticipa- 
tion of  happiness  with  the  worship,  or  punishment  with  the  neglect,  of 
their  deities.  The  Infinite  Wisdom  saw  fit  to  select  this  time  to 
silence  for  ever  the  vain  babblings  of  philosophy,  to  "  destroy  the 
wisdom  of  the  wise,"  and  "  bring  to  nothing  the  understanding  of  the 
prudent." 


IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME.  507 

It  was  a  most  favourable  time,  inasmuch  as  it  was  a  period  of  tolera- 
tion. Had  it  been  at  a  later  period,  when  men  began  to  attach  that 
degree  of  importance  to  religion  which  was  its  due,  the  infant  sect 
might  have  been  crushed  at  once.  But  the  Divine  Being  was  pleased 
to  suspend  the  fury  of  emperors,  and  to  preserve  his  people  by  inspiring 
some  measure  of  the  spirit  of  toleration  in  the  breasts  of  those  who 
held  the  sceptres  of  this  world.  Nero's  persecution  was  confined,  we 
have  reason  to  believe,  principally  to  Rome  and  its  environs  ;  and  ages 
passed  away  before  any  great  attempt  was  made  by  the  rulers  of  Rome 
to  put  down  this  new  religion. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Christianity  stole  on  the  world  like  a  thief  in 
the  night ;  it  cannot  be  said  that  it  owed  its  success  to  the  credulity 
of  mankind,  and  that  if  the  generations  among  whom  it  at  first  ap- 
peared had  lived  now,  they  would  have  reasoned  to  better  purpose. 
For  the  productions  of  that  age  are  the  admiration  of  this ;  in  works 
of  taste  and  imagination  it  has  never  been  surpassed,  and  it  is  some- 
times considered  as  the  highest  praise  of  writers  of  the  present  day 
that  they  exhibit  a  near  approach  to  the  inimitable  beauties  of  the 
authors  who  then  flourished.  The  earth  was,  therefore,  in  a  state  to 
receive  this  precious  seed ;  He  who  appoints  the  seasons,  and  brings 
on  seed-time  and  harvest,  saw  that  this  was  a  proper  time  in  which  to 
plant  that  tree  of  righteousness  which  was  to  stretch  wide  its  branches 
till  it  overshadowed  the  world,  and  whose  fruit  was  to  be  "  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations." 

The  fulness  of  the  time  was  come  :  hence  we  remark  that  the 
event  here  referred  to  was  the  most  important  that  had  ever  distin- 
guished the  annals  of  the  world.  The  epoch  will  arrive  when  this 
world  will  be  thought  of  as  nothing,  but  as  it  has  furnished  a  stage  for 
the  "  manifestation  of  the  Son  of  God  ;"  when  his  birth,  his  death,  his 
resurrection  from  the  dead,  his  ascension  to  glory,  and  his  second 
appearance,  events  inseparably  connected,  will  concentrate  within 
themselves  all  the  interest  of  history ;  when  war  and  peace,  and 
pestilence  and  famine,  and  plenty  and  want,  and  life  and  death,  will 
have  spent  their  force,  and  leave  nothing  but  the  result,  the  permanent, 
eternal  result  of  Christ's  manifestation  upon  earth ;  when  every  other 
distinction  which  has  marked  the  individuals  or  generations  of  our 
race  shall  be  swept  away,  and  all  shall  be  alike  distinguished  in  the 
annals  of  the  universe  by  the  new  and  awful  character  of  being  as- 
sociated in  the  same  nature  with  the  Son  of  God.  In  the  effects  of 
this  gracious  interposition  you  are  all  interested  ;  of  its  fruits  you  are 
invited  to  partake  ;  you  may  now  reject  the  offer,  you  may  now  refuse 
this  great  salvation,  but  the  period  of  neglect  will  soon  be  over — you 
may  now  think  lightly  of  the  Saviour,  but  these  thoughts  will  soon  be 
ended.  The  moment  you  enter  eternity  you  will  see  things  as  they 
are ;  the  greatness  of  Christ  will  present  itself  to  your  eye,  the  vast- 
ness  of  his  redemption,  the  importance  of  his  mediatorial  work,  the 
infinite  felicity  of  being  saved,  the  unspeakable  misery  of  being  lost, — 
the  thoughts  of  these  will  dwell  with  you  for  ever.  Those  who  now 
neglect  the  gospel  will  never  cease  to  curse  the  infatuation  of  putting 


608  CHRIST'S  MISSION  IN  THE  FULNESS  OF  TIME. 

away  from  them  the  proffered  mercy,  and  judging  themselves  unworthy 
of  everlasting  life.  Now,  witli  drowsy  attention,  with  thoughts  dis- 
sipated amid  a  crowd  of  vanities,  you  hear  the  record  of  this  great 
doctrine  ;  you  have  Christ  set  forth  by  his  ministers  as  crucified  among 
you  ;  you  hear  with  listless  and  careless  minds  these  glad  tidings,  that 
"  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to 
redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adop- 
tion of  sons."  But  let  eternity  disclose  itself  to  your  view ;  let  a 
short  period  be  passed  either  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  beatific  vision  of 
God,  or  in  the  dark  regions  of  despair,  and  how  will  these  subjects 
then  appear  1 

Eternity  will  not  be  too  long  either  to  rue  that  neglect  Avhich  has 
plucked  down  ruin  on  yourselves,  or  to  rejoice  in  that  grace  of  God 
which  has  made  you  wise  unto  salvation.  All  the  happiness,  and 
splendour,  and  glory  which  shall  then  be  realized  by  all  the  ransomed 
people  of  God  are  so  many  fruits  of  the  purchase  by  Christ's  death. 
There  is  not  a  single  blessing  which  shall  then  be  enjoyed  which  is 
not  to  be  ascribed  to  the  love  of  Christ  in  dying  for  our  iniquities,  and 
"  washing  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood." 

"  What  think  you  of  Christ  ?"  The  time  will  come  when  you  must 
think  very  seriously  of  him.  Some  of  you,  I  trust,  have  thought  of 
him  to  great  and  happy  efi'ect,  have  trusted  your  salvation  in  his  hands, 
and  are  "  looking  for  and  hasting  unto  the  coming  of  the  day  of 
God."  Remember  that  whatever  be  the  state  of  your  hearts  towards 
him,  you  must  stand  at  his  judgment-seat ;  at  his  tribunal  we  must  all 
appear  to  give  an  account  of  the  reception  we  have  given  to  his 
apostles,  to  his  ministers,  to  the  words  of  eternal  life  contained  in  this 
book.  Then  those  only  will  have  peace  and  joy  who  will  possess  the 
consciousness  that  they  have  embraced  Christ;  that  they  have  trusted 
in  him  in  life  and  in  death,  have  walked  in  communion  with  him,  kept 
his  precepts,  imhated  his  example,  and  laid  up  all  their  hopes  in  him, 
as  the  Saviour  of  sinners. 

I  cannot  close  without  reminding  every  person  present  of  the  awful 
consequences  of  remaining  under  the  law.  Recollect,  wherever  you 
are,  that  if  you  are  not  vital  believers  in  Christ,  if  you  know  not  what 
it  is  to  have  trusted  your  souls  in  his  hands,  and  to  be  justified  by  faith 
in  his  blood,  you  are  under  the  law.  Rejoice  not  as  others  rejoice, 
y'ou  have  nothing  to  do  with  joy ;  it  would  be  madness  in  you  to  taste 
of  joy  till  this  grand  impediment  to  your  happiness  is  removed.  If 
you  are  under  tlie  curse  of  God,  what  have  you  to  do  with  joy  1  The 
joy  of  a  maniac  dancing  in  his  chains,  the  joy  of  a  criminal  on  his  way 
to  e.vecution,  is  reasonable  in  comparison  with  the  joy  of  the  man  who 
says,  "  Soul,  take  thine  ease,"  while  the  wrath  of  God  hangs  over  him, 
and  he  knows  not  how  soon  it  may  fall. 

Let  us,  then,  all  fiee  to  the  Saviour;  let  us,  without  delay,  lay  hold 
of  the  great  atonement ;  thus  shall  we  "  be  justified  from  all  things 
from  which  we  could  not  be  justified  by  the  law  of  Moses."  Christ 
is  ready  to  receive  us ;  Christ  says  to  every  one,  "  Come  unto  me,  all 
ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."     Oh, 


STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.  609 

"  seek  ye,  then,  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  upon  him  while 
he  is  near ;  let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous 
man  his  thoughts  :  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will 
have  mercy  upon  him ;  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly 
pardon." 


XXL 

POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN  THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH 
AND  THE  POOR.* 

Proverbs  xxii.  2. — The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together :  the  Lord  is  the 
maker  of  them  all. 

[preached  at  CAMBRIDGE,  SEPTEMBER  20,   1829.] 

This  book  consists  of  a  number  of  short  sentences  and  aphorisms, 
that  relate  to  human  life  and  manners,  and  to  virtue  and  vice.  It  is 
not  necessary  for  us  to  attempt  to  trace  any  particular  connexion 
between  the  passage  which  has  just  been  read  and  the  surrounding 
context.  What  was  the  train  of  thought  by  which  the  inspired  writer 
was  conducted  from  one  of  these  truths  to  another,  it  is  unnecessary 
anxiously  to  inquire.  It  is  obvious  there  was  some  law  of  association 
which  governed  his  mind,  though  it  eludes  every  attempt  at  investiga- 
tion on  our  part,  and  would  lead  us  into  a  useless  and  intricate  research. 
The  doctrine  which  is  to  be  deduced  from  the  words  you  have  just 
heard  read  is,  however,  worthy  of  our  most  serious  regard.  It  de- 
clares there  is  a  natural  equality  in  mankind,  notwithstanding  the 
diversified  appearances  of  some  of  them,  and  the  different  stations 
they  are  destined  to  occupy  in  the  present  condition  of  being:  it 
assures  us  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  that  they  coincide 
and  agree  in  many  of  the  most  important  circuiustances,  and  that  the 
differences  which  appear  to  exist  between  them  are,  for  the  most  part, 
of  a  superficial,  and  therefore  of  a  transitory  nature.  "  The  Lord  is 
the  maker  of  them  all."  The  sacred  writer  thus  introduces  all  of  us 
into  an  equal  and  common  relation  to  God,  who  is  the  great  Parent  of 
us  all.  We  are  the  creatures  of  the  same  hand,  the  subjects  of  the 
same  government ;  we  occupy  the  same  economy  of  Divine  Providence ; 
and,  as  to  our  destination,  we  all  stand  in  relation  to  the  same  future 
and  eternal  state  of  being.  These  two  distinctions  and  divisions  of 
society  have  existed  in  every  period.  It  is  impossible  to  avoid  them  : 
and  any  attempt  to  establish  an  equality  of  possessions  in  the  present 
world  would  be  replete  with  disappointment,  confusion,  rapine,  and 
misery.  The  greatest  disturbances  mankind  has  ever  experienced 
have  arisen  from  abortive  attempts  of  this  nature :  nor  can  any  one 

♦  Printed  (Yom  the  notes  of  J.  R.  Mills,  Esq. 


610  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

seriously  consider  the  causes  from  which  these  two  conditions  of 
society  spring,  but  he  must  despair  of  ever  reahzing  any  thing  like 
equality,  or  any  thing  approaching  to  equality,  as  to  the  possessions 
and  enjoyments  of  the  present  state. 

It  has  been  urged  in  favour  of  such  attempts,  and  with  some  degree 
of  plausibility,  that  a  scheme  of  this  kind  was  executed  at  the  first 
beginning  of  Christianity,  that  the  saints  at  Jerusalem  had  nothing 
which  they  called  their  own,  but  threw  their  property  into  a  common 
stock ;  and  out  of  that  stock  they  relieved  the  distress  and  poverty 
of  their  persecuted  brethren.  But  there  is  great  reason  to  conclude, 
as  Mosheim*  has  very  judiciously  shown,  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  community  of  goods  established  among  them,  and  that  the 
right  of  property  was  not  formally  relinquished  ;  but  that  it  was  cus- 
tomary for  all  who  possessed  property  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness 
to  relieve  the  exigences  of  those  who  applied  to  them.  It  does  not 
appear  that  it  was  ever  hinted  at  by  the  apostles  themselves,  who  were 
at  Jerusalem,  or  made  even  a  temporary  law  of  that  church  ;  but 
every  one  was  left  to  act  agreeably  to  the  dictates  of  his  own  mind : 
and  the  apostle  Peter  aggravates  the  guilt  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira, 
by  declaring,  that  while  the  estate  "  was  in  their  own  possession,  was 
it  not  their  own  ;  and  after  it  was  sold,  was  it  not  in  their  own  power  :" 
and  that  no  necessity  existed  for  resorting  to  falsehood,  when  they  laid 
the  price  of  it  at  the  feet  of  the  apostle.  It  never  prevailed  in  any 
other  church.  We  have  no  intimation  tliat  it  was  adopted  in  any  other 
of  the  great  churches  which  were  planted  by  the  apostle  Paul ;  and 
in  his  epistles  there  is  no  reference  to  any  similar  regulation,  though 
he  alludes  there  to  a  large  collection,  wliich  Paul  and  the  apostles 
were  engaged  in  making  in  those  churches,  for  relieving  the  distress 
of  the  saints  of  Jerusalem.  The  pressure  of  calamity  was  local  and 
temporary,  it  was  occasioned  by  peculiar  circumstances  of  time  and 
place,  and  never  pervaded  the  other  parts  of  Christendom.  It  never 
was  made  a  law  by  the  apostle  Paul ;  nor,  as  a  permanent  regulation, 
was  it  countenanced  by  the  apostles  at  Jerusalem. 

It  would  be  wasting  your  time  to  spend  more  words  in  pointing  out 
the  folly  and  absurdity  of  every  attempt  to  equalize  the  possessions 
of  mankind.  I  am  persuaded  tliere  are  none  here  that  permit  them- 
selves to  be  deluded  by  the  sophistries  of  the  designing  and  wicked 
who  propagate  this  statement.  But  it  is  of  great  importance  for  us  to 
consider,  because  it  is  intimately  connected  with  our  duties  and  pros- 
pects, in  what  great  points  the  rich  and  poor  meet  together,  and  that 
the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them  all :  that  each  of  these  respective 
classes  may  learn  their  proper  duties  to  one  another,  that  the  poor 
may  learn  not  to  envy  and  murmur,  and  the  ricii  not  to  despise  and 
oppress.  Then  will  society  be  happy,  when  the  poor  and  the  rich 
unite  in  spirit  to  promote  the  great  purposes  of  social  order  and  hap- 
piness, in  entire  and  equal  subjection  to  the  Father  of  spirits,  who 
is  the  fountain  and  source  of  every  good. 

*  See  his  "  Commentaries  on  tlie  Affairs  of  the  Christians"  (Vidal's  translation),  vol.  I.  p.  202, 
and  the  reference  there  made. — Eu. 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.  511 

In  considering  this  subject  permit  me  to  observe, 

I.  That  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  in  the  participation  of  a 
common  nature.  They  are  equal  sharers  in  the  common  nature  of 
humanity,  in  distinction  from  those  who  are  in  a  lower,  and  from  those 
who  are  in  a  higher  order  of  beings.  The  faculties  by  which  this 
nature  makes  itself  known  are  exhibited  with  equal  clearness,  and 
certainty,  and  activity  in  both  these  classes.  The  poor,  as  well  as  the 
rich,  give  the  most  unequivocal  incUcations  of  the  possession  of  that 
reason,  which  is  the  grand  distinction  of  man,  and  forms  the  chief 
difierence  between  mankind  and  the  beasts  that  perish.  Reason  may 
be  cultivated  to  a  higher  extent  by  some  of  the  rich,  in  consequence 
of  the  more  improved  education  which  they  may  procure,  and  of  the 
leisure  which  their  station  commands.  But  decisive  indications  of  a 
reasonable  nature  are  presented  in  the  lowest  walks  of  society  ;  and 
they  are  sometimes  such  as  greatly  to  surpass  and  eclipse  the  indica- 
tions of  intellect  in  the  higlier  classes.  Every  age  of  society  has 
produced  persons  who  have  broken  through  the  difficulties  and  disad- 
vantages of  their  station  ;  who  have  surmounted  the  obstacles  by  which 
they  were  surrounded,  and  have  reached  a  high  position  in  a  career 
of  virtuous  probation,  among  those  who  have  set  out  on  a  more  elevated 
stage.  And,  on  the  contrary,  among  the  sons  of  opulence,  some  have 
been  found  to  possess  such  an  imbecility  as  no  education  could  remedy  : 
their  knowledge  has  never  been  of  any  iise  to  them  ;  and  the  learning 
which  has  been  bestowed  upon  them  has  rather  been  an  encumbrance 
than  an  assistance  to  them  :  their  knowledge  has  remained  a  dead 
mass,  which  the  mind  could  never  animate, — a  sort  of  raw  produce, 
out  of  which  nothing  useful  or  ornamental  to  society  could  be  ex- 
tracted. When  this  imbeciHty  has  prevailed  to  a  certain  extent,  so  as 
to  invite  a  comparison  with  the  degree  of  knowledge  which  the  mind 
is  capable  of  attaining,  it  shows  its  native  disadvantage,  and  is  never 
more  conspicuous  than  in  the  case  of  those  who  unite  a  large  portion 
of  human  attainment  with  a  portion  of  radical  imbecility. 

The  poor  and  the  rich  have  equally  the  power  of  ascertaining  gene- 
ral principles,  of  forming  conclusions  as  to  the  future  from  the  con- 
sideration of  past  events,  and  of  rendering  their  senses  conducive  to 
those  general  and  abstract  ideas  in  which  all  real  science  and  know- 
ledge consist.  Thus  you  see  that  the  poor  and  the  rich,  in  the  great 
faculty  of  the  understanding,  afford  proofs  of  equality ;  and  no  differ- 
ence exists  between  them  but  such  as  may  be  easily  accounted  for  by 
the  circumstances  of  human  life. 

With  respect  to  their  moral  sensibilities  also,  the  rich  and  the  poor 
meet  together.  They  possess  alike  that  conscience  which  "  either 
accuses  or  excuses,"  and  they  possess  that  cognizance  of  the  purposes 
and  intents  of  the  mind  which  connects  it  with  a  system  of  legislation, 
with  the  hope  of  reward,  or  the  fear  of  punishment.  The  poorest,  as 
well  as  the  richest,  is  capable  of  feeling  these  sentiments.  The  hopes 
and  the  fears  of  a  future  world  act  as  powerfully  upon  the  poor  as  upon 
the  rich ;  and  that  legislation  which  appeals  to  the  conscience,  and 
which  refers  to  the  primary  distinctions  of  the  human  mind  between 


612  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

right  and  wrong,  is  calculated  to  take  as  much  hold  of  the  one  as  of 
the  other. 

In  regard,  also,  to  devotion,  which  by  some  men  of  profound  thought 
is  declared  to  be  the  great  characteristic  of  man,  in  opposition  to  the 
brutes  that  perish,  these  two  classes  meet  together.  There  are  many 
examples  among  the  poor  of  persons  who  are  "  rich  in  faith,  and  heirs 
of  the  kingdom  which  God  has  promised  to  them  that  love  him."  In 
the  poorest  breast  we  find  the  flame  of  devotion  burn ;  and  with  an 
intenseness  and  purity  as  great  as  in  those  who  are  more  exalted. 
Though  the  latter  may  have  some  advantages  in  the  greater  extent  of 
their  knowledge,  that  deficiency  is  frequently  compensated  to  the  for- 
mer, by  a  greater  simplicity  and  unity  of  attention,  and  by  their  entire 
devotedness  to  one  object.  It  is  a  question  of  much  difficulty  to  de- 
termine which  of  these  stations  is  more  favourable  to  the  cultivation 
of  piety,  and  whether  poverty,  with  all  its  destitution,  is  a  greater 
hinderance  to  the  divine  life  than  affluence,  with  all  its  temptations.  A 
course  of  piety  is  difficult  for  all,  but  practicable  for  every  individual ; 
and  the  light  of  eternity  alone  can  decide  whose  situation  has  been 
the  most  hazardous,  and  whose  the  most  favourable  to  the  growth 
of  religion. 

The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  in  the  primary  passions  of  the 
human  mind,  which  give  birth  to  whatever  is  most  distinguishing  in 
man:  and  these  are  found  in  the  same  state  in  the  rich  and  in  the  poor, 
essentially  considered.  The  exhibition  of  them  by  the  latter  is  more 
private,  giving  birth  to  good  purposes  ;  but  with  regard  to  the  former, 
the  exhibition  of  them  is  more  public,  because  they  stand  in  more 
powerful  and  exalted  stations,  and  act  on  a  more  extended  stage.  If 
we  trace  the  passions  of  men  to  their  primary  elements,  we  shall  find 
the  virtues  and  vices  of  the  poor  and  of  the  rich  spring  from  the  same 
sources.  The  guilty  passions  that  agitate  the  breast  of  the  peasant, 
and  lead  him  to  disturb  the  peace  of  his  neighbourhood,  are  of  the 
same  nature  with  those  that  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  nations  in  the 
breasts  of  princes.  The  same  injustice,  the  same  low  ambition,  the 
same  love  of  acquiring  that  which  is  not  his  own,  that  renders  a  peasant 
a  nuisance  to  the  village  where  he  resides,  renders  an  unjust  prince 
the  terror  of  his  subjects,  the  source  of  iniquitous  wars,  and  a  stain 
and  reproach  to  his  species.  The  person  who,  in  the  poorest  situa- 
tion, in  a  peasant's  cottage,  is  led  by  a  love  of  order,  and  by  native 
benevolence  of  mind,  to  diffuse  peace  and  comfort  around  his  own 
circle,  and,  so  far  as  his  influence  extends,  in  his  own  neighbourhood, 
evinces  the  same  spirit  with  the  individual  who  would  difiuse  peace 
and  order  through  a  distracted  empire,  and  who  lays  the  foundation 
of  tranquillity  for  distant  ages,  by  the  enactment  of  the  most  whole- 
some regulations  and  the  most  enlightened  laws. 

The  more  we  analyze  actions,  and  trace  them  to  their  primary 
elements,  the  more  we  shall  perceive  the  identity  between  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  as  to  their  intellectual,  moral,  accountable,  and  devotional 
capacities.  The  rich  and  the  poor  occupy  the  same  department  of 
the  universe ;  they  are  subjects  of  the  same  moral  government,  and 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.  513 

are  destined  to  be  judged  equally  and  impartially,  by  the  same  laws, 
at  the  final  and  awful  distribution  of  reward  to  the  just  and  to  the 
unjust. 

II.  I  would  observe,  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  in  the 
process  of  the  same  social  economy,  in  the  same  necessary  intercourse 
of  human  life ;  they  are  closely  connected  with  each  other,  and 
equally  form  parts  of  the  same  human  family.  It  is  impossible  for  us 
to  say  which  of  these  subdivisions  of  society  is,  in  its  place,  the  most 
important ;  which  of  them  ought  to  be  most  respected ;  which  of 
them  most  cherished.  The  higher  can  by  no  means  say  to  the  lower, 
with  truth  or  propriety,  "  I  have  no  need  of  thee  ;"  nor  can  the  lower 
retort  upon  the  higher,  "  I  have  no  need  of  thee."  If  the  lower  order 
occupy  the  place  of  the  feet  and  hands,  which  execute  the  purposes 
of  the  mind,  the  higher  occupy  the  place  of  the  head,  which  is  the  seat 
of  counsel,  and  is  necessary  for  the  direction  and  preservation  of  the 
whole  social  body.  Here  we  see  how  necessary  both  these  classes 
are  to  the  general  order,  and  to  the  diffusion  of  peace  and  happiness 
throughout  the  whole.  According  to  the  degree  in  which  this  is  felt, 
in  proportion  as  the  industrious  citizen,  the  ingenious  mechanic,  or  the 
laborious  husbandman  who  cultivates  the  soil,  in  any  community,  is 
destitute  of  encouragement,  society  languishes ;  and  in  proportion  to 
the  reasonable,  not  redundant,  remuneration  of  labour  to  the  industrious 
classes  of  the  community,  is  the  diffusion  of  comfort  and  enjoyment 
through  the  whole  body. 

The  higher  classes  must,  on  reflection,  perceive  that  they  are 
indebted  to  the  lower  for  all  they  enjoy.  The  distinctions  of  wealth, 
and  stations  of  authority,  which  they  are  so  proud  to  display,  and  by 
which  the  higher  classes  are  raised  above  the  poor,  are  supported  by 
the  produce  of  the  field  and  of  art ;  and  these  are  combined  by  the 
hand  of  honest  labour,  in  such  processes  as  the  ingenuity  of  the  lower 
classes  has  devised.  "  The  king  himself  is  served  by  the  field." 
The  higher  classes  are  supported  by  the  continual  machine  of  labour, 
which  is  going  on  among  the  inferior  classes  of  society ;  and  were 
it  to  stop,  it  would  tend  to  the  stagnation,  instead  of  the  steady  flow,' 
of  luxurious  enjoyment  among  those  higher  classes.  The  poor  might 
here,  with  greater  propriety  than  the  rich,  adopt  the  language  of  an 
early  apologist  for  Christianity,  and  say,  "  Were  we  to  retire  from 
you,  you  would  be  astonished  at  your  own  desolation  ;  we  should  leave 
you  little  but  your  temples  and  your  gods."*     There  may  be  some 

*  Mr.  Hall  here  evidently  referred  to  the  language  of  the  celebrated  Tertullian,  Apologet,  cap. 
xxxvii.  "  Hesterni  sumus,  et -vestra  omnia  iniplevimus,  urbes,  insulas,  castella.  municipia,  con- 
cUiabula,  castra  ipsa,  tribus,  dccurias,  palaliurn,  sciialuni,  forum.  Sola  vobis  Tclmqunnus  tcmjila." 
There  may  probably  he,  as  is  sometimes  conjectured,  a  little  overcharge  of  rhetorical  exaggeration 
in  this  ;  yet,  whoever  meditates  upon  the  report  made  by  the  circumspect  and  iirudent  Pliny  to  the 
Emperor  Trajan  (Lib.  x.  Ep.  9")  will  perceive  that  even  in  his  lime,  at  least  in  the  Pontic  province, 
the  Christians  far  outnumbered  the  heathen  worshippers.  "Multi  omnis  sl^us,  omnis  ordinis, 
utriusque  sexus  etiani,  vocantur  in  perlculum  et  vocabuntur.  Ncque  civitates  tantum,  scd  vicos 
etiam  atqueagros  superstitionis  istius  contagio  pervagata  est."  From  what  follows  it  is  evident, 
too,  that  heathenism  had  been  in  great  peril,  and  the  temples  nearly  forsaken  :— "  Certi  satis  con- 
stat, prnpe  jam  desolata  tcmpln  ccepisse  celebrnri,  et  sacra  solemnia  diu  intermissa  rcpeti,  passim- 
que  venire  victimas,  quaruin  adhuc  rarissimus  emptor  inveniebatur."  This,  however,  by-thc-way ; 
for  though  it  bears  upon  an  important  point  in  the  history  of  Christianity,  it  falls  not  within  the 
scope  of^  this  sermon. — Ed. 

Vol.  III.— K  k 


514  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

who  might  not  choose  to  adopt  the  language  of  this  statement ;  but  it 
is  not  too  much  for  tlie  poor  to  say  to  the  rich.  Were  they  to  retire, 
no  mind  can  adequately  portray  the  lengths  and  depths  of  that  desola- 
tion and  misery  which  would  be  sustained  by  all  else,  but  especially 
by  those  in  the  higher  walks  of  life.  In  vain  would  they  retain  wealth 
if  there  were  no  hands  to  be  employed  ;  and  were  no  commodities  of 
any  kind  presented  to  them,  they  would  live  in  a  state  of  destitution 
greater  than  the  meanest  of  their  dependants,  or  they  must  endeavour 
to  apply  themselves  separately  to  those  arts,  each  of  which,  in  order 
to  produce  in  perfection  what  they  value,  is  the  business  of  a  life. 
The  pinnacles  of  tiie  proudest  edifice  rest  on  a  basis  that  comes  into 
immediate  contact  with  the  surface  of  the  earth,  or  is  buried  partly 
imder  it,  and  is  invisible  ;  so,  all  the  improvements  of  wealth,  nay,  all 
the  distinctions  of  royal  grandeur,  rest  on  the  industry  of  the  poor, 
upon  their  silent,  unperceived  industry,  working  out  of  the  view,  and 
frequently  out  of  the  contemplation,  of  those  who  are  most  indebted  to 
it.  Let  no  one  look  with  contempt  on  the  meanest  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures on  account  of  his  having  to  gain  his  bread  "  by  the  sweat  of 
his  brow."  That  was  the  appointed  lot  of  our  first  parents  after  their 
fall,  and  it  was  the  condition  of  all  in  the  primitive  state  of  society. 
It  is  to  the  industry  of  the  lower  classes  that  the  distinctions  and 
splendour  of  the  highest  are  to  be  entirely  ascribed. 

On  the  other  hand,  let  not  the  poor  say  to  the  rich,  "  we  have  no 
need  of  you."  Were  they  to  retire,  the  effects  would  be  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent kind,  but  they  would  be  equally  melancholy.  The  destruction 
of  the  social  fabric  would  be  the  infallible  result.  That  wisdom  which 
is  necessary  for  the  good  of  the  whole  is  found  in  persons  of  exalted 
station.  There  is  the  mind  that  casts  its  eye  over  the  whole  machine 
of  society,  discovers  its  abuses,  and  aims  to  correct  them ;  the  mind 
which  watches  over  the  execution  of  the  law  gives  birth  to  splendid 
examples,  and  refines  and  embellishes  whatever  it  embraces.  It  com- 
prehends the  order  of  civil  government,  and  those  principles  whose 
operation  harmonizes  all.  These  are  founded  on  wisdom,  deliberation, 
and  experience,  and  on  the  force  with  which  public  opinion  arms  those 
Avho  are  placed  in  elevated  stations.  Each  of  these  classes,  then,  is  in 
its  separate  place  essential  to  the  welfare  of  society ;  and  the  whole 
has  for  its  basis  the  industry  of  the  poor.  Were  all  those,  who  by 
their  leisure  are  able  to  cultivate  their  own  minds,  to  diffuse  the  know- 
ledge of  true  morality,  and  embellish  the  manners  of  mankind,  by  in- 
grafting new  improvements,  giving  existence  to  wholesome  laws,  and 
seeing  them  properly  executed,  what  a  paradise  would  the  world 
become ! 

These  considerations  will  more  than  reconcile  us  to  that  inequality 
in  the  condition  of  society  which  for  the  most  part  prevails  ;  they  will 
lead  us  to  admire  the  infinite  wisdom  of  God,  wlio  has  given  birth  to 
those  principles  which  tend  to  give  security  and  happiness  to  all,  to  the 
poor  as  well  as  the  rich.  By  these  means  society  is  really  united 
together ;  so  that,  while  every  one  is  consulting  his  own  interest,  he  is  at 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.  515 

the  same  time  promoting  the  interest  of  the  whole,  even  more  entirely 
and  effectually  than  he  could  have  done  if  he  had  separately  and  in- 
tentionally devoted  himself  to  it ;  and  each  acquires,  by  the  force  of 
his  industry,  what  no  compulsory  distribution  of  labour  could  possibly 
have  secured.  You  see  how  admirable  is  the  wisdom  displayed  in 
such  a  constitution  of  society,  as  by  the  union  of  its  parts  under  the 
administration  of  a  wise  government,  renders  every  individual  who  acts 
most  agreeably  to  his  own  interest  at  the  same  time  the  promoter  of 
the  public  good.  Such  a  state  of  society  could  by  no  possibility  be 
produced  by  any  technical  or  mechanical  arrangements.  The  infinite 
wisdom  of  God  works  out  this  order  from  the  selfish  passions  of  men, 
and  leads  each,  from  a  consideration  of  his  own  interests  in  his  own 
station,  to  operate  most  effectually  for  the  public  benefit.  Were  those 
who  live  in  the  higher  stations  of  society  to  lavish  all  that  could  be 
spared  from  their  own  expenditure  by  the  most  rigid  parsimony,  and 
apply  it  in  mere  almsgiving,  it  would  be  infinitely  more  injurious  than 
their  indulging  in  even  the  luxuries  of  their  station :  and  the  proper 
outlay  of  their  wealth  in  the  conveniences  and  comforts  of  life  is  pro- 
ductive of  infinitely  more  good,  and  of  an  order  of  good  more  than 
equivalent  to  any  which  an  expenditure  to  the  same  amount  in  alms- 
giving and  charity  could  effect.  The  rich  enjoying  with  moderation 
that  affluence  which  God  has  put  into  their  hands,  without  allowing 
their  reason  to  be  inflamed  with  pride  and  sensuality,  and  every  one 
enjoying  the  good  things  of  this  life,  at  the  same  time  preserving  the 
power  of  meeting  the  exigences  of  others,  much  more  contributes  to 
the  healthful  state  of  society  than  the  largest  distribution  of  almsgiving, 
were  such  an  exhibition  of  enjoyment  and  wealth  to  cease :  and  the 
poor,  while  only  earning  their  bread  "  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow," 
lend  themselves  to  the  diffusion  of  happiness  and  comfort  over  the 
whole. 

III.  We  remark  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  in  the  house 
of  God.  If  there  be  a  place  and  a  time  where  those  sentiments 
should  be  suspended,  and  at  which  the  emotions  connected  with  the 
operation  of  riches  and  poverty,  and  the  conduct  to  which  they  give 
rise,  should  suffer  a  temporary  pause,  the  house  of  God  is  precisely 
that  place,  and  the  worship  of  God  that  time ;  when  the  rich  should 
forget  they  are  rich,  and  where  the  poor  should  forget  they  are  poor ; 
where  they  are  called  to  reflect  upon  that  original  equality  in  which 
mankind  was  created.  In  the  presence  of  the  great  and  good  Being 
they  should  forget  all  their  distinctions,  and  recollect  their  essential  rela- 
tion to  Him  who  is  equally  the  Father  of  all  mankind. 

James,  when  he  was  addressing  the  poor  and  the  rich  under  the 
uifluence  of  Christian  principles,  says,  "  Let  the  brother  of  low  degree 
rejoice  in  that  he  is  exalted,  but  the  rich  in  that  he  is  made  low  ;  be- 
cause, as  the  flower  of  the  grass,  he  shall  pass  away.  For  the  sun  is 
no  sooner  risen  with  a  burning  heat  but  it  withereth  the  grass,  and  the 
flower  thereof  lalleth,  and  the  grace  of  the  fashion  of  it  pcrishelh  ;  so 
also  shall  the  rich  man  fade  away  in  his  ways."  The  rich  man,  if  he 
is  a  Christian,  will  rejoice  in  that  he  is  made  low  ;  will  rejoice  in  return- 

Kk2 


616  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

ing  to  the  presence  of  his  God,  under  a  sense  of  his  nothingness,  and 
with  a  consciousness  of  meriting  nothing :  this  ought  to  be  the  ex- 
perience of  every  one  who  is  approaching  the  footstool  of  the  Divine 
Majesty.  The  poor  man,  on  the  contrary,  deUghts  in  being  truly 
exalted.  He  reflects  that  he  is  adopted  into  that  family  of  which  all 
the  saints  "  in  heaven  and  earth  are  named  ;"  he  rejoices  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  rich,  under  a  sense  of  spiritual  elevation.  The  rich  de- 
scends in  the  presence  of  the  poor  into  a  voluntary  humiliation.  The 
one  feels  the  pleasure  of  descending,  while  he  reflects  on  his  mean- 
ness and  guilt  as  a  sinner,  and  lays  aside  the  consideration  of  all  that 
might  have  a  tendency  to  lift  him  up  in  his  own  eyes  ;  and  the  other 
finds  unspeakable  consolation  in  losing  sight  of  his  poverty,  and  in  con- 
templating only  the  inefiable  dignity  to  which  he  is  exalted  as  a  child 
of  God,  a  believer  in  Christ,  and  an  heir  of  glory.  Into  the  presence 
of  the  Divine  Being  they  do  not  come  as  rich  and  poor.  It  is  no  part 
of  their  business,  it  is  not  fit  for  the  occasion  on  which  they  are  con- 
vened. They  are  convened  on  common  ground,  under  a  deep  sense 
of  the  necessities  of  their  common  nature.  Apart  from  any  relations 
they  bear  to  each  other,  they  prostrate  themselves  before  the  infinite 
God,  they  deprecate  the  anger  which  none  can  sustain,  but  which  they 
have  equally  merited  ;  which  is  not  to  be  shunned  by  human  arrange- 
ments, or  by  the  efforts  of  human  power  and  influence  ;  they  supplicate 
that  mercy  which  is  equally  revealed  to  the  rich  and  to  the  poor,  and 
which  is  the  only  stay  and  support  of  a  sinking  universe.  That  mercy 
is  divinely  free  through  the  sacrifice  and  blood  of  the  Divine  Son. 
They  strengthen  themselves  for  their  race,  which  will  terminate,  as  to 
all,  in  an  everlasting  condition  of  glory  or  of  wo.  In  imitation  of  the 
holy  apostles,  they  gather  fresh  grace  as  they  approach  Him  who  is 
the  fountain  of  grace.  They  implore  the  fulfilment  of  his  promises, 
and  the  influences  of  that  Spirit  who  is  equally  necessary  to  sanctify 
the  body  of  the  elect  of  God,  to  whatever  stations  they  belong,  or  by 
whatever  variety  of  fortune  they  may  be  distinguished.  They  look 
forward  to  that  "  new  heaven  and  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righte- 
ousness," and  to  those  loveliest  regions  of  light  and  glory  where  all 
the  distinctions  of  the  present  life  will  be  entirely  forgotten,  where  the 
meanest  will  have  a  portion  with  the  most  elevated  in  the  favour  of  God, 
and  "  a  crown  of  immortal  glory."  In  this  sacred  presence  all  mean 
and  transitory  distinctions  are  lost  sight  of,  are  levelled ;  all  mankind 
feel  themselves  on  one  common  footing,  and  prostrate  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  Divine  Majesty,  who  is  all  in  all.  There  "the  poor  man 
rejoices  in  that  he  is  exalted,  and  the  rich  in  that  he  is  made  low." 

A  very  celebrated  poet  and  nobleman,  who  died  some  years  ago, 
was  in  the  habit  of  attending  a  prayer-meeting  in  the  country  village 
where  he  lived,  and  where  a  few  poor  people  were  accustomed  to 
assemble  to  seek  the  presence  of  the  Divine  Majesty.  It  was  at  first 
customary  for  these  humble  persons  to  make  way  for  him,  if  he  hap- 
pened to  come  in  a  little  after  the  appointed  time  ;  but  he  expressed 
his  unwillingness  to  receive  these  marks  of  attention  and  respect,  and 
said  he  should  be  contented  if  he  were  left  to  occupy  the  lowest  sta- 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR,  517 

tion.  In  other  places  he  claimed  for  himself,  and  thought  he  had  a 
right  to  claim,  the  distinctions  of  his  rank ;  but  there  he  felt  himself 
in  the  same  situation  with  themselves.  In  this  state  of  mind  he 
entered  into  the  genuine  feelings  of  Christianity.  He  delighted  to 
come  into  the  presence  of  that  Being  who  levels  all  distinctions ;  He 
who  smites  the  proud  with  a  stroke  which  can  never  be  survived,  and 
has  declared  his  judgment  of  the  humble  and  contrite  in  terms  which 
can  never  be  forgotten. 

They  who  cherish  other  sentiments  are  forgetful  that  it  is  the  same 
Great  Being  who  is  the  protector  of  all  his  poor,  and  who  regards 
with  contempt  those  who  despise  others  that  are  permanently  afflicted 
with  adverse  fortune.  In  the  Divine  presence  each  of  these  distinc- 
tions is  alike  lost  sight  of;  and  all  true  Christians  will  at  last  be 
brought  to  feel  their  relation  to  one  common  Father,  as  heirs  of  the 
same  inheritance.  There  is  "  one  faith,  one  Lord,  one  baptism,  one 
God  and  Father  of  all."  They  embrace  each  other  as  fellow-heirs 
of  the  same  eternal  inheritance.  Let  us,  therefore,  enter  into  the 
presence  of  God  more  under  the  influence  of  Christian  sentiments. 
Let  the  poor  forget  themselves  as  poor,  and  consider  themselves  as 
rich  in  being  children  of  God  and  heirs  of  heaven.  Let  the  rich 
recollect  his  wealth  only  as  a  trust  with  which  he  is  charged.  Let 
him  forget  all  but  his  responsibility,  and  that  will  constitute  a  motive 
to  humility  in  the  presence  of  Almiglity  God.  The  utility  of  divine 
worship  in  this  case  appears  most  evident.  The  sentiments  which  it 
calls  forth  are  such  as  hinder  our  running  into  the  excesses  to  which 
we  are  exposed :  and  nothing  is  more  salutary  or  wholesome  than 
that  temporary  suspension  of  undue  notions  of  rank,  which  is  derived 
from  an  approach  to  that  Being  with  whom  all  are  on  a  level,  whose 
majesty  fills  heaven  and  earth,  and  in  whose  presence  nothing  can  be 
exalted,  except  as  he  draws  it  towards  himself.  As  I  see  the  time  is 
advancing,  I  shall  not  enlarge  on  these  considerations,  but  advert  very 
briefly  to  one  or  two  remaining  particulars.     I  will  add, 

IV.  That  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  in  the  circumstances  of 
their  entrance  into  this  world,  and  in  the  circumstances  of  their  exit 
out  of  it.  We  have  beheld  the  identity  of  human  nature,  notwith- 
standing the  artificial  disguises  which  these  distinctions  bestow  for  a 
time.  Look  at  the  great  man  in  his  origin.  Look  at  him  as  he  comes 
into  this  world,  and  say  whether  you  can  detect  the  least  difterence 
between  the  ofl'spring  of  the  peasant  and  of  the  prince.  They  come 
into  the  world  under  marks  of  the  same  destitution,  and  weakness, 
and  misery.  Both  alike  enter  with  cries  expressive  of  distress,  as  if 
conscious  of  their  arrival  in  a  valley  of  tears.  Both  would  close 
their  eyes  in  darkness,  were  it  not  for  the  breasts  that  give  them  suck, 
and  the  knees  that  sustain  them.  Both  are  indebted  to  that  aliment 
which  nature  has  administered  to  the  mother  for  the  support  of  her 
children ;  and  both,  by  the  tenderness  excited  by  their  cries  and  tears, 
gain  access  to  a  mother's  care  and  to  a  father's  heart.  The  Deity 
has  provided  no  outward  physiognomy  to  distinguish  the  rich  and  the 
poor :  and  no  inquisitive  eye  can  discover  to  which  of  these  classes 
any  new-born  infant  is  likely  to  belong. 


518  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

Let  us  here  trace  the  progress  of  their  being  farther,  until  we  come 
to  their  final  exit,  and  to  their  departure  out  of  this  world.  In  some 
of  the  most  important  particulars  they  entirely  coincide  as  to  the 
circumstances  of  their  departure  hence.  At  the  moment  when  they 
qmt  this  state  of  being,  the  poor  man  lays  aside  his  poverty,  the  rich 
man  lays  aside  all  the  appendages  of  riches,  his  grandeur,  and  dignity; 
all  are  alike  deposited  by  the  possessor  before  he  passes  to  the  mys- 
terious and  eternal  bourn.  No  man  goes  into  the  invisible  world,  no 
man  retires  to  the  sepulchre,  without  dropping  the  distinction  of  riches 
and  poverty.  The  rich  man,  it  is  true,  is  carried  to  the  tomb  by 
mourners,  whether  real  or  artificial ;  and  though  survivors  endeavour 
to  maintain  the  distinctions  of  rank  and  elevated  station  in  the  regions 
of  destruction  and  mortality,  yet  all  is  in  vain.  They  wage  a  fruitless 
war  with  corruption  and  decay.  The  inscription  first  disappears ; 
then  the  monument  moulders  into  ruin ;  the  dust  itself  is  scattered  or 
mingled  with  surrounding  earth,  and  the  last  place  that  knew  the  dead 
"  knows  him  no  more  for  ever."  The  very  names  of  those  who  have 
most  disturbed  the  peace  of  society,  and  have  been  a  terror  to  their 
species  while  living,  are  heard  of  no  more.  It  is  left  to  the  antiquary 
of  a  future  age  to  speculate  upon  the  import  of  the  remaining  letters 
that  composed  a  part  of  their  names.  Where  are  the  men  of  genius 
that  lived  before  the  flood?  They  have  retired  from  the  memory 
of  mankind  ;  history  records  of  them  only  that  they  lived  and  that 
they  died,  and  leaves  all  the  rest  to  be  filled  up  by  conjecture  and 
imagination. 

V.  This  subject  reminds  us  of  that  period  when  all  the  pomp  and 
distinctions  of  the  universe  shall  coincide  in  one  point,  melt  into  one 
entire  mass,  and  present  themselves  in  one  vision.  The  time  is 
coming  when  the  rich  and  the  poor  will  not  only  meet  as  to  the  circum- 
stances of  their  dying  hour,  but  as  to  their  allotted  state  and  condition 
of  being.  We  have  seen  both  going  to  the  grave.  Alike  they  occupy 
the  place  appointed  for  all  living  ;  alike  they  seek  kindred  with  cor- 
ruption, earth,  and  worms.  But  they  will  appear  again ;  and  they 
will  appear  again  for  purposes  that  were  never  accomplished  before. 
They  will  appear  for  the  purpose  of  undergoing  a  serious  review  by 
the  Master  that  created  them,  who  fixed  their  class,  and  appointed 
their  station.  They  will  appear  to  account  "  for  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body."  Then  it  will  be  found,  that  many  a  person  has  occupied  a 
station  which  he  was  not  fitted  to  occupy ;  that  he  possessed  talents 
which  he  was  not  willing  to  employ ;  and  that  he  wore  a  character 
which  he  was  not  qualified  to  sustain.  Then  the  Great  Governor  of 
the  whole  will  take  a  review  of  his  creatures ;  he  will  recast  their 
parts  :  he  will  sufler  none  to  appear  but  in  their  proper  character  ;  and 
the  distinction  of  his  approbation  will  in  no  degree  turn  on  the 
transient  distinctions  in  their  present  circumstances  as  rich  and  poor. 
The  poor  who  has  been  the  servant  of  the  Most  High  will  be  made 
rich.  No  obscurity  will  be  felt,  but  his  lustre  will  be  as  the  sun  shining 
in  his  strength.  Instead  of  persecution  and  oppression,  he  shall 
receive  "  a  crown  of  life  that  fadeth  not  away."  The  rich  man  who 
was  a  despiser  of  God  shall,  at  the  same  time, — so  far  from  obtaining 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.  519 

an  interest  in  the  favour  of  the  Great  Sovereign  of  the  world, — if  he 
looks  back  on  the  talents  which  he  has  perverted,  on  the  opportunities 
he  has  lost,  and  on  the  force  of  his  influence  which  he  has  not  em- 
ployed for  the  great  ends  of  his  being  in  serving  God,  and  in  serving 
his  generation,  he  shall  curse  his  wealth,  which  was  the  source  of  crime 
to  himself  and  others ;  and  will  see  in  it  a  weight  only  sinking  him 
lower  in  perdition. 

The  rich  who  have  been  the  persecutors  of  the  children  of  God  will 
then,  in  the  utmost  agony,  lament  their  crime,  and  will  "  call  upon  the 
rocks  and  mountains  to  hide  them  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb."  The 
purpose  for  Avhich  the  Divine  Being  will  then  manifest  himself  is  such 
as  it  was  never  attempted  to  accomplish  before, — for  the  trial  of  the 
actions  of  men.  As  they  are  now  displayed,  they  can  only  be  judged 
upon  incompetent  evidence,  and  often  upon  defective  principles  ;  but 
then  the  whole  character  will  be  weighed  in  the  balance  :  the  destiny 
of  every  man  will  be  adjusted,  and  determined  for  ever.  The  Divine 
Being  will  sit  in  judgment  upon  every  man,  in  order  to  divide  mankind 
into  two  eternal  states  ;  to  banish  one  class  to  the  regions  of  darkness 
and  despair,  and  to  receive  the  other  to  himself;  "  they  shall  enter 
through  the  gates  into  the  city,  and  reign  with  Kim  and  with  his  Son 
for  ever  and  ever." 

I  shall  attempt  a  very  brief  improvement  of  this  subject,  by  address- 
ing a  few  considerations  to  each  of  the  classes  mentioned  in  the  text. 
Let  such  as  are  rich  recollect  they  are  rich  for  the  purpose  of  benefiting 
their  generation,  and  that  they  are  "  the  servants  of  the  most  high 
God." — "We  are  not  our  own.  but  are  bought  with  a  price;"  let  us 
glorify  God,  whose  we  are,  and  whom  we  are  bound  to  serve.  These 
are  the  sentiments  of  every  disciple  of  Christ,  but  they  are  not  the 
sentiments  of  every  one  who  now  hears  me.  There  are,  probably, 
some  unhappy,  miserable  men,  who  are  not  the  disciples  of  Christ. 
Let  each  person  estimate  himself  in  the  sight  of  God  by  this  consid- 
eration— is  he  living  to  himself,  or  is  he  living  to  Christ  1  Is  he  living 
for  the  purpose  of  luxurious  enjoyment? — he  is  walking  in  a  vain 
show,  and  not  discharging  his  appropriate  duty,  not  considering  his 
riches  as  the  means  of  doing  good,  as  talents  wherewith  he  is  to 
profit,  and  which  he  must  occupy  till  the  Master  come.  He  does  not 
consider  that  they  are  not  his  own ;  he  does  not  use  them  as  one  who 
bears  in  mind  that  Divine  price  by  which  he  has  been  bought.  He 
has  no  true  respect  for  that  authority  under  Avhich  he  acts :  nor  does 
he  pay  allegiance  to  the  only  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords.  We 
must  all  stand  before  his  tribunal  :  God  himself  will  be  the  judge. 
He  has  committed  all  judgment  into  the  hands  of  that  very  Jesus  who 
gave  himself  a  ransom  for  all. 

Let  such  persons  consider  seriously  whether  they  are  living  to 
themselves  or  to  God.  Let  them  consider,  that  if  they  are  living  to 
themselves  they  miss  the  very  end  of  their  being ;  they  are  committing 
a  mistake  which  can  never  be  repaired  ;  they  are  guilty  of  an  error 
which  admits  of  no  correction.  They  mistake  the  end  of  their  being, 
which  consists  in  glorifying  God,  in  acquiring  his  image,  in  fulfilling 
his  will,  and  in  laying  up  treasures  in  heaven.     They  commit  such  ar^ 


520  POINTS  OF  AGREEMENT  IN 

error  as  no  human  folly  can  equal,  such  as  no  human  virtue  can  ex- 
piate. This  is  a  condemning  error :  this  is  the  fatal  and  awful  mis- 
take of  men ;  that  they  live  as  their  own,  while  the  voice  of  God,  the 
dictates  of  conscience,  the  blood  of  Christ,  the  precepts  of  the  Spirit 
of  Truth,  and  the  opening  light  of  eternity,  all  show  that  "  we  are 
not  our  own :"  they  show  that  we  are  the  creatures  of  another,  the 
possession  of  another.  Our  Lord  idll  come  forth;  he  will  discover 
all  who  have  lived  to  themselves,  he  will  take  account  of  "  the  quick 
and  the  dead  ;  and  all  that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and 
shall  come  forth ;  they  that  have  done  good  to  the  resurrection  of  life, 
and  they  that  have  done  evil  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation."  Let 
those  who  are  rich  remember  that,  as  Christians,  it  behooves  them  who 
possess  riches  not  to  fail  in  good  works.  Let  them  act  from  Christian 
principles,  and  with  Christian  motives,  and  witli  a  view  to  Christian 
reward.  Let  them  recollect  that  they  are  bound  to  ascertain  whether 
they  are  Christians.  Till  we  are  Christians,  we  cannot  serve  God  as 
Christians  :  we  can  serve  God  only  in  that  state  which  belongs  to  us. 
Till  we  are  Christians  we  cannot  pay  due  regard  to  his  will,  we  can- 
not act  with  a  view  to  his  glory,  nor  according  to  the  instructions  of 
his  Word ;  nor  can  we  seriously  expect  that  eternal  life,  which  rests 
nowhere  but  on  his  promise,  which  he  will  fulfil  to  "  all  that  love  his 
appearing."  Let  it  be  the  care  of  all  in  the  presence  of  God  in 
this  assembly  that  they  be  Christians ;  let  thera  secure  a  portion 
among  the  saints  ;  let  them  see  that  they  have  a  place  among  the 
people  of  God ;  that  they  are  united  to  Him  "  of  whom  the  whole 
family  in  heaven  and  on  earth  is  named."  Let  them  seek  to  be 
renewed,  regenerated,  and  sanctified,  and  washed  in  the  atoning  blood 
of  the  Saviour,  to  be  made  members  of  Christ,  and  heirs  of  his  king- 
dom ;  to  be  fitted  and  prepared  for  his  eternal  glory.  Let  them  seek 
to  be  vessels  of  honour,  sanctified  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  fit  for  the 
Master's  use, — fit  to  serve  him  in  the  lower  funciions  of  his  temple 
on  earth,  and  to  serve  him  hereafter  in  his  eternal  kingdom  and  glory. 
What  will  it  avail  any  of  us  to  possess  now  what  we  must  then  cease 
to  possess  ;  what  we  can  possess  only  till  we  arrive  at  the  threshold 
of  death,  and  shall  look  back  on  the  distinctions  which  must  then  have 
vanished ;  when  we  lay  down  our  bodies  in  the  grave,  and  have 
nothing  before  us  but  a  vast  eternity,  the  complexion  of  which  will  be 
decided  by  the  will  of  another, — by  the  will  of  that  Being  who  sees 
not  witli  tlie  eyes  of  flesh  and  blood,  before  whom  riches  and  poverty, 
wisdom  and  folly,  and  all  physical  distinctions  are  nothing ;  who  will 
regard  nothing  in  his  creatures  but  the  will  to  please  him,  and  obedi- 
ence to  that  will  ?  The  happiness  to  be  obtained  by  faith  will  be 
infinitely  superior  to  tlie  happiness  which  is  derived  from  the  objects 
of  sense.  For  a  man  thus  to  lose  his  own  soul  will  be  to  sacrifice  the 
great  end  of  his  being. 

But  there  are  some  here  to  whom  the  possession  of  riches  is  sanc- 
tified, who  consider  them  as  a  great  trust,  for  the  use  of  which  they 
are  responsible,  and  who  are  asking.  What  shall  I  do?  what  return 
shall  I  make  to  God  for  all  his  benefits  1  and  who  tremble,  lest  at  the 


THE  STATE  OF  THE  RICH  AND  THE  POOR.     52 1 

final  account  they  should  be  found  unfaithful  stewards.  They  trust  in 
the  Saviour :  they  cultivate  communion  with  God ;  they  condescend 
to  men  of  low  estate ;  they  are  rich  in  good  works  ;  they  lay  up  a 
good  foundation  for  the  time  to  come  ;  they  will  surmount  the  perils  of 
the  most  prosperous  fortune  ;  they  will  combine  the  riches  of  this  world 
with  the  riches  of  glory ;  they  will  be  distinguished  in  both  worlds, 
standing  complete  and  ready  for  their  Master's  will ;  they  are  armed  for 
the  combat  in  the  present  state,  and  fitted  at  any  moment  to  take  wing, 
to  "depart  and  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better."  Happy  those 
who,  while  they  have  abundance  of  the  things  of  this  world,  have  also 
a  treasure  elsewhere  !  While  they  walk  in  light,  and  glory,  and 
reputation  on  earth,  they  seek  first  the  honour  that  cometh  from  above  ; 
they  seek,  indeed,  no  higher  honour  than  that  which  comes  from  Him 
who  is  the  arbiter  of  all  destinies. 

Let  me  now  say  a  word  to  the  poor.  If  they  are  poor,  and  yet 
partakers  of  true  piety  springing  from  tlie  faith  of  the  gospel,  let  them 
not  repine.  Let  them  indulge  no  envious  thought  at  those  who  possess 
more  of  this  world's  goods  than  is  allotted  to  themselves.  To  such 
I  would  say.  Recollect  that  your  happiness  depends  not  on  the  station 
in  life  which  you  occupy,  but  on  the  manner  in  which  you  perform  its 
duties.  A  small  circle  is  not  less  complete  than  a  large  one  :  an 
humble  field  of  occupation,  yielding  proper  fruits  in  their  season,  will 
be  recognised  by  God  and  approved  of  men.  You  will  have  the 
testimony  of  your  conscience  that  "  in  simplicity,  and  godly  sincerity, 
you  have  your  conversation  in  the  world."  You  will  leave  a  testimony 
behind  you  of  the  power  of  leligion:  your  remains  Avill  breathe  a 
sweet  odour  in  all  the  churches  of  which  you  formed  a  part :  you  will 
dignify  a  low  station,  you  will  rescue  it  from  all  reproach  ;  for  the 
reproach  consists  not  in  poverty,  but  in  yielding  to  the  temptations  of 
poverty.  Riches,  in  themselves,  confer  no  lasting  honour,  but  as  they 
are  accompanied  by  a  resistance  to  their  peculiar  temptations.  You 
are  walking  in  the  footsteps  of  "  the  Lord  of  all,"  who,  when  he  came 
into  the  world,  made  poverty  his  abode,  became  a  companion  of  fisher- 
men, and  at  length  a  companion  of  sinners  on  the  cross.  Let  such  as 
are  poor  seek  to  be  "  rich  in  faith :"  let  them  exult  and  rejoice  in  the 
prospect  of  future  happiness  :  let  them  rise  above  the  sorrows  of  time 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  glory  which  awaits  them.  Your  recom- 
pense is  above ;  your  pleasiu-es  are  in  heaven.  If  you  are  real 
Christians  you  would  not  relinquish  one  portion  in  heaven  for  all  the 
happiness  of  the  present  state.  Avoid  every  temptation  to  dishonesty, 
to  prevarication,  to  envy,  to  murmuring,  to  discontent.  Avoid  all  those 
temptations  which  arise  from  a  narrow  and  scanty  fortune.  Show 
how  religion  can  dignify  the  lowest  station  in  society,  and  do  all 
possible  honour  to  that  station.  Thousands  of  saints  have  done 
this.  Our  Saviour  illustrated  the  sorrows  and  privations  of  poverty ; 
and  if  you  are  animated  by  his  spirit,  you  will  walk  in  his  steps ;  and 
after  having  sufi'ered  with  him  here,  you  will  be  also  glorified  together 
with  him,  and  reign  with  him  for  ever  and  ever. 


INDEX. 


*^f  *   The  Roman  numerals  refer  to  the  vobime,  and  the  figures  to  the  page ;  "  Mem.''''  refers  to 
the  Memoir,  and  "  06s."  to  the  Observations  on  Mr.  HaWs  Character  as  a  Preacher. 


ACADEMICAL  EDUCATION ;  its  usefulness  to  the  candidate  for  the  Chris- 
tian ministry,  ii.  442.  Rendered  necessary  by  the  existing  state  of  society,  ib. 
No  impediment  to  the  growth  of  piety,  ib. 

ADOPTION  ;  a  privilege  belonging  to  all  believers  in  Christ,  iii.  502,  503. 

AFFLICTION  ;  its  universality,  iii.  137-139,  140,  141,  210.  Shows  the  fallen 
state  of  man,  and  the  Divine  displeasure  against  sin,  139,  140.  Religion  the 
only  support  under  it,  142.  Considered  as  a  chastisement  for  sin,  143.  Its 
frequent  inefficacy  in  that  respect,  143-145.  Consequent  necessity  for  Divine 
influence,  145.  Need  of  its  infliction  on  the  pious,  iii.  368,  369.  Beneficial 
effects  of  sanctified  affliction,  369,  370.  Feelings  with  which  the  afflictions  of 
the  great  and  noble  are  contemplated,  i.  183. 

AGRICULTURE  ;  its  present  depressed  state,  ii.  103. 

AMBITION  ;  its  pleasures  shown  to  be  unreal  and  imaginary,  iii.  383. 

ANGELS  ;  why  called  spirits,  iii.  36,  42.  Their  wonderful  powers,  36,  37. 
Their  moral  excellences,  37.  Their  employment  and  office  in  heaven,  37-39. 
Their  ministry  to  the  saints,  40. 

ANNUAL  PARLIAMENTS  recommended,  ii.  62-64. 

ANTINOMIANISM,  i.  389,  390,  iii.  {Mem.)  78.  Its  tenets  described,  ii.  458. 
Character  of  its  adherents,  459.  Its  progress  favoured  by  the  use  of  technical 
phraseology  in  religion,  460, — by  the  undue  importance  attached  to  what  are 
called  "  doctrines  of  grace,"  ib. — by  the  deficiency  of  practical  pulpit  instruc- 
tion, 460,  461  ;  the  latter  shown  to  be  the  most  effectual  antidote  to  the  evil, 
4G1,  462.  Manner  in  which  instruction  was  administered  by  the  apostles, 
contrasted  with  that  adopted  by  Antinomian  preachers,  462,  463.  Antinomian- 
ism  fostered  by  unscriptural  notions  of  the  "  conditions  of  salvation,"  463,  464. 

APOSTACY  ;  reasons  why  the  Jews  who  had  been  baptized  by  John  were  not 
charged  with  that  crime  for  their  rejection  of  Christ,  i.  388. 

APOSTLES  ;  probably  not  baptized,  i.  303.     Their  authority,  311. 

APOSTOLIC  COMMISSION  ;  examination  of  the  argument  for  strict  com- 
munion founded  upon  it,  i.  304,  305. 

APOSTOLIC  PRECEDENT;  explained,  i.  310,  ii.  213,214.  Examination 
of  the  argument  drawn  from  it  in  favour  of  strict  communion,  i.  311-313, 
ii.  215.  Practical  illustration  adduced,  ib.  The  argument  retorted  on  the 
advocates  of  strict  communion,  216,  217.  Precedents  of  thought  to  be  followed 
as  well  as  precedents  of  action,  217,  218. 

ARBITRARY  POWER,  ii.  41.  Approaches  towards  it  in  England,  85.  Argu- 
ment in  its  favour  advanced  in  the  "Christian  Guardian,"  102. 

ARISTOTLE  ;  his  remark  on  tragedy,  i.  82.  His  opinions  on  the  foundation  of 
morals,  101  {note).  The  influence  his  authority  once  exerted  on  the  human 
mind,  iii.  416. 

ASSOCIATIONS  ;  origin  of  the  political  societies  so  called,  formed  at  the  close 
of  the  last  century,  ii.  56.  Singular  and  unprecedented  in  their  character,  ih. 
Unsupported  by  expedience  or  necessity,  57.  Their  unreasonable  hostility  to 
the  freedom  of  the  press,   ib.     Their  impolicy,  58,     Their  silence   on  the 


524  INDEX. 

subject  of  political  abuses,  58,  39.  Their  attachment  to  the  principles  of  arbi- 
trary power,  59. 

ASSURANCE  OF  SALVATION,  iii.  2«2.     Its  importance,  180. 

ATHEISM  ;  its  effects  on  the  French  revolution,  i.  38.  Exposure  of  its  pre- 
sumption and  absurdity,  ii.  237. 

ATONEMENT  OF  CHRIST,  i.  266,  iii.  22.  Its  importance,  iii.  209,  iii. 
(Mem.)  22.  Its  efhcacy  derived  from  the  mysterious  constitution  of  the  Re- 
deemer's person,  i.  275-277,  iii.  502.  Indistinctly  perceived,  and  imperfectly 
understood  by  the  Jews  before  the  advent  of  Christ,  i.  379-382.  Extent  of  its 
influence  imperfectly  known  in  the  present  state,  iii.  318. 

AUGSBURG  CONFESSION  ;  on  baptism,  i.  319. 

AUGUSTINE  ;  his  opinion  on  John's  baptism,  i.  300  {note).  His  remark  on 
humility,  iii.  149, 

BAPTISM  ;  instituted  by  Christ  after  his  resurrection,  i.  294.     Implied  a  profes- 
sion of  faith  in  him,  295.     Was  administered  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  ib.     Con- 
nected with  the  effusion  of  the  Spirit,  297,  384,  385.     Its  repetition  in  the  case 
of  the  disciples  at  Ephesus,  298,  386,  387  ;  and  of  many  who  had  been  baptized 
by  the   apostles   during  our  Lord's  life,  301,  302.     Its  necessary  connexion 
with  the  Lord's  Supper  denied,  307,  308,  406;  ii.  218,  219.     The  prevailing 
opinion  on  that  subject  shown  to  originate  in  the  corruption  of  baptism,  i.  319. 
Early    prevalence    of  the   notion    of  baptismal    regeneration,   317,    319.     No 
diversity  of  opinion  respecting  baptism   in  apostolic  times,  409.     Essential  to 
salvation  then,  417.     Examination  of  the  assertion  that  it  is  the  evidence  of 
faith,  421. 
BAPTIST  MISSION  ;    letter  to  the  committee   respecting    an   application   of 
the  Serampore  missionaries,  ii.  444-446.     Observations  on  the  best  means  of 
raising  funds  for  its  support,  iii.  257,  262.     Proselytism  to  one  denomination 
not  its  object,  iii.  493. 
BAPTISTS  ;  their  sentiments  stated,  i.  291,  292;  ii.  211.     Causes  of  the  pre- 
judices  against  the  denomination,  i.  354-356.     Improbability  of  its  extensive 
spread  during  the  prevalence  of  strict  communion,  358,  399. 
BARROW,  Dr.  ;   character  of  his  sermons,  ii.  293. 
BAXTER,  Andrew  ;  his  work  "  On  the  Soul,"  iii.  {Mem.)  33. 
BAXTER,  Rev.  Richard  ;  character  of  his  writings,  iii.  {Mem.)  79. 
BEDDOME,  Rev.  B. ;  sketch  of  his  character  and  talents,  ii.  456.     His  hymns 

commended,  456,  457, 
BELSHAM,   Rev.   T. ;  character  of  his  "  Memoirs  of  the  Rev.   T.   Lindsey," 
ii.  318.     Tone  of  depression  observable  in  that  work,  respecting-  the  progress 
of  Socinianism,   328.     Mr.  B.'s  extravagant   estimate   of  the   practical  effects 
of  metaphysical   theories,  ib.     His   assertion   that   God   is  the   author  of  sin 
considered  and  exposed,   329,  330.     His  disbelief  of  great  part  of  the  Mosaic 
history,  330.     His  denial  of  the  external  authority  of  the  Saviour,  330,  331. 
Illustration  of  his  arrogance  and  folly,  331.     His  use  of  the  expression  "ven- 
erable confessor,"  in  regard  to  Mr.  Lindsey,  considered,  332-334.     His  argu- 
ments against  love  to  Christ,  iii.  32.     His  opinions  on  the  obligation  of  the 
Sabbath,  34. 
BENEVOLENCE,  i.  41.      Connexion  and  compatibility  of  general  benevolence 
with   individual   affection,  41-43.     Distinguished   from    sensibility,   74.     The 
enlarged  views  of  Christian  benevolence  described,  iii.  453,  454.     Its  harmony 
with  nature,  454.     Its  source  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  Christianity,  455.     Its 
aspect  on  our  happiness,  456.     Its  connexion  with  the  promotion  of  all  public 
good,  456,  457,     Suggestions  relative  to  the  means  of  attaining  this  disposition, 
457,  458. 
BENEVOLENT  SOCIETY  at  Cambridge  ;  account  of,  i.  76,  77. 
BENNETT,  Rev.  W, ;  character  of  his  "Essay  on  the  Gospel  Dispensation," 

ii.  465. 
BENTHAM,  Jeremy ;  Mr.  Hall's  high  opinion  of  his  writings,  iii.  {Mem.)  65. 
BIBLE  SOCIETY,  ii.  418  ;  iii.  245.     Its   utility  and  importance,  ii.  419,  420. 
Inconsistencies  of  its  opponents,  as  professed  Protestants,  422-424.     Connexion 


INDEX.  525 

between  the  Bible  Society  and  the  missionary  operations,  425.  Indirect  advan- 
tages resulting  from  its  establishment,  425-427.  Grandeur  of  its  object,  428. 
Variety  of  opinions  no  bar  to  union  for  its  support,  436. 

BIOGRAPHY  ;  the  most  delightful  species  of  literary  composition,  ii.  410 ;  its 
useful  tendencies,  410,  411.  Advantage  of  reading  the  lives  of  persons  of 
eminent  piety,  413. 

BIRMINGHAM  ;  notice  of  the  riots  there  in  1791,  ii.  25, 

BIRT'S  LECTURES  on  Popery  ;  character  of  that  work,  ii.  340. 

BLACKSTONE,  Sir  W. ;  character  of  his  "  Commentaries,"  ii.  250. 

BLASPHEMY  ;  a  crime  punishable  by  law,  ii.  102. 

BLOOD  ;  the  prohibition  of  its  use  in  food  still  obligatory,  i.  419.  Application 
of  the  argument  to  the  controversy  on  communion,  420. 

BOLINGBROKE,  i.  24.     His  remarks  on  the  funding  system,  ii.  84. 

BONAPARTE,  i.  83.  His  character  described,  107-109.  His  attachment  to 
life,  iii.  424. 

BOOTH,  Rev.  A. ;  his  "  Apology  for  the  Baptists,"  i.  293. 

BRAINERD,  the  missionary  ;  sketch  of  his  character,  ii.  412  ;  compared  with 
Fletcher  of  Madeley,  ib.  Manner  in  which  Divine  influence  was  granted  to 
his  labours,  iii.  405. 

BRLSTOL  ACADEMY,  i.  132. 

BRITISH  CONSTITUTION  ;  the  provision  made  for  its  security  and  per- 
manence, ii.  57.      The  abuses  and  evils  with  which  it  is  burthened,  86,  87. 

BROTHERLY  LOVE  ;  an  important  Christian  duty,  i.  321.  Application  of  the 
principle  to  the  controversy  on  communion,  322-324. 

BROWN,  Dr.  Thomas  ;  his  "  Lectures  on  Mental  Philosophy,"  iii.  (Mem.)  81. 

BUNYAN,  John  ;  harshly  treated  on  account  of  his  sentiments  on  communion, 
i.  396. 

BURKE,  Mr.,  ii.  13;  his  splendid  genius,  69.  His  theory  of  the  rights  of  man, 
71,  72. 

CALL  OF  THE  GOSPEL  ;  difference  between  the  outward  and  the  inward  call, 
iii.  75. 

CALUMNY  ;  its  mischievous  effects,  ii.  177.  Illustrated  by  the  history  of  the 
French  revolution,  178. 

CALVINISTS  ;  how  fettered  by  their  system,  ii.  465. 

CAMBRIDGE ;  state  of  sentiment  in  the  Baptist  church  there  when  Mr. 
Hall  commenced  his  hibours  among  them,  iii.  208,  (Mem.)  20.  Effects  of  his 
first  sermon,  21.  Their  strong  attachment  to  Mr.  Hall,  iii.  227  {note).  Lib- 
erality of  the  church  on  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Hall's  illness,  iii.  {Mem.)  50. 

CAMPBELL,  Dr.,  i.  356  {note).  His  Translation  of  the  Gospels  characterized, 
iii.  {Mem.)  66. 

CARRYER,  Mrs.  M.  ;  sketch  of  her  character,  ii.  378,  379. 

CENTURION,  The  ;  an  illustrious  instance  of  the  power  of  Divine  grace, 
iii.  157. 

CHASE,  Rev.  S. ;  character  of  his  "  Antinomianism  Unmasked,"  ii.  459. 

CHRIST;  his  pre-existence,  iii.  19,  20.  His  divinity,  20,21,209.  Practical 
importance  of  these  truths,  iii.  353.  His  appearances  to  the  Jewish  church, 
107.  Necessity  of  his  incarnation,  i.  270,  iii.  499.  In  what  sense  made  of  a 
woman,  496,  497.  How  made  under  the  law,  497-499.  Mysteriousness  of  the 
hypostatical  union,  317 ;  moral  influence  of  that  doctrine,  318.  His  con- 
descension, considered  as  a  proof  of  his  Divinity,  iii.  24—28,  342-349.  The 
great  design  of  his  existence,  i.  272.  The  absence  of  all  concealment  or  dis- 
guise in  his  public  instructions,  iii.  101.  The  love  and  zeal  with  which  he 
prosecuted  the  work  of  salvation,  127,  128.  His  compassion  for  sinners, 
352.  His  merit,  wherein  it  consists,  478.  Manner  in  which  his  death  is 
regarded  and  spoken  of  by  the  inspired  writers,  86,  87  ;  its  sacrificial  character, 
433-437  ;  its  importance  in  the  economy  of  redemption,  86  ;  celebrated  in  the 
heavenly  world,  87,  88.  His  victory  over  death,  392-394.  His  atonement, 
i.  266,  iii.  22,  23,  209  ;  its  efficacy,  as  resulting  from  the  mysterious  constitu- 
tion of  his  person,  502.     Fitness  of  his  substitution  for  sinners,  i.  268-282. 


626  INDEX. 

General  extent  of  his  death,  ii.  466,  iii.  (Mem.)  76.  His  resurrection,  com- 
memorated  on  the  Lord's  day,  193-196  ;  importance  of  that  event,  tb.  Nature 
and  superiority  of  his  kingdom,  354-360  ;  its  glory,  88-92.  The  blessings  of 
his  kingdom  illustrated  by  the  advantages  of  a  well-ordered  civil  government, 
446^51.  The  internal  revelation  of  Christ  to  the  soul,  in  conversion,  76-78. 
His  supreme  authority  acknowledged  by  every  Christian,  104.  His  care  of 
ministers  and  churches,  197,  198. 

CHRISTIAN  ;  his  peculiar  sorrow,  iii.  145-148.  His  consolation,  ib.  His 
relation  to  God,  183.  His  attachment  to  God,  184.  His  resemblance  to 
God,  ib.  His  superiority  to  the  man  of  the  world,  i.  194-196.  Why  the 
disciples  of  Christ  were  called  "Christians,"  iii.  176;  their  former  appella- 
tions, ib.;  propriety  of  the  name,  177;  its  import,  178.  Inapplicable  to 
multitudes  by  whom  it  is  assumed,  ib.  Importance  of  possessing  the  reality 
as  well  as  the  name,  179.  Anticipation  of  the  time  when  no  other  name  will 
be  used,  180. 

CHRISTIANITY  ;  certainty  of  its  eventual  triumph,  i.  51,  iii.  370.  Sufficiency 
of  its  evidence,  330,  331.  Its  fundamental  doctrines,  265-267.  Importance 
of  holding  fast  its  peculiar  truths,  maxims,  and  spirit,  i.  95,  96.  Friendly  to 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  120.  Perfection  of  its  system,  144,  145.  Founded 
on  facts,  181.  Adapted  to  the  existing  state  of  man,  as  guilty  and  depraved, 
192,  193.  Dignity  and  excellence  of  its  discoveries,  227-230.  Seriousness 
with  which  they  ought  to  be  regarded,  230,  231.  Their  comparatively  feeble 
influence  on  the  human  character  accounted  for,  iii.  218.  Beneficial  influence 
of  Christianity  on  Europe,  i.  173.  Best  mode  of  communicating  its  truths  to 
the  heathen,  170-173.  Aspect  of  the  Christian  system  on  social  duties  and 
the  general  pursuits  of  man,  ii.  15,  16.  Reasons  for  the  connexion  between 
Christianity  and  the  love  of  freedom,  16,  17.  The  principles  of  freedom 
cherished  by  Christianity,  18.  Its  injunctions  respecting  civil  government, 
26,  27.  Considered  as  distinct  from  and  independent  of  human  legislation, 
14,  15,  28.  Impropriety  of  incorporating  it  with  civil  government,  78.  Evils 
resulting  from  that  union,  79,  80.  Duty  of  a  Christian  to  discountenance 
measures  calculated  to  hinder  the  diffusion  of  Christianity,  109,  110.  Dangers 
likely  to  arise  from  the  adoption  of  such  measures,  113.  Opposition  of  this 
kind  chargeable  with  the  guilt  of  persecution,  117,  118.  Moral  tendencies 
of  the  Christian  system,  307.  Importance  of  its  peculiar  doctrines,  307-309. 
Its  practical  design  and  tendency,  401.  Its  value  and  influence  exemplified 
in  the  death  of  a  lady,  iii.  211.  Mysteriousness  of  its  slow  progress,  its  cor- 
ruptions, and  its  limited  effects,  364,  365.  Enlarged  benevolence  its  natural 
fruits,  455. 

CHRISTIAN  CHURCH ;  meaning  of  the  term  "  church,"  as  used  in  Scrip- 
ture, i.  332.  Importance  of  the  unity  of  the  church,  289,  472,  489,  490. 
Strict  communion  opposed  to  that  unity,  490-492.  Means  by  which  it  may 
be  again  realized,  493,  494.  Subjection  of  the  church  to  the  authority  oif 
Christ,  495.  Connexion  of  its  institution  with  preparation  for  heaven,  499. 
Strictures  on  the  little  importance  attached  to  the  church  in  some  dissentin<r 
communities,  ii.  396.  The  church  inspected  and  cared  for  by  Christ,  iii.  198. 
Its  security,  447.  Design  of  the  Saviour  in  enjoining  the  organization  of 
Christian  churches,  476. 

CHRISTIAN  COMMUNION;  incompatible  with  the  sacrifice  of  truth  or 
liberty,  i.  290.  Its  extensive  meaning,  291,  ii.  224.  Importance  of  the  con- 
troversy on  this  subject,  i.  396. 

CHRISTIAN  MINISTERS  ;  see  Ministers. 

CHRYSOSTOM  ;  his  remarks  on  the  baptism  of  the  disciples  at  Ephesus,  i. 
300  (note). 

CHURCH  GOVERNMENT,  iii.  (Mem.)  77. 

CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND;  its  peculiar  advantages  and  securities,  ii.  180,  181. 
Necessity  of  reform  in  it,  88.  Greatly  dependent  for  jiublic  respect  on  the 
character  of  its  clergy,  181.  Impolicy  and  impropriety  of  endeavouring  to  put 
down  other  religious  teachers,  182,  183.  Injurious  cflTects  of  such  a  measure 
on  the  clergy  themselves,  183.     Historical  notice  of  the  decline  of  evangelical 


INDEX.  527 

preaching  in  the  Church  of  England,  271,  272.  Danger  of  attempting  to 
suppress  it,  289.  Extent  of  agreement  between  the  supporters  of  the  church 
and  those  who  dissent  from  it,  iii.  1G3. 

CICERO  ;  his  opinions  on  the  foundation  of  morals,  i.  101  {note). 

CIRCUMCISION  ;  necessary  to  a  participation  of  the  passover,  i.  306. 
Examination  of  the  supposed  analogy  between  this  institution  and  baptism  and 
the  Lord's  Supper,  306-308,  313,  314. 

CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  ;  its  origin,  ii.  54.  Reason  of  its.  mstitution  and 
limits  of  its  power,  51.  The  respect  due  to  it  as  the  ordinance  of  God,  i.  87- 
89.  Grounds  of  submission,  ii.  27.  Its  dependence  on  the  will  of  the  people, 
72.  Its  measures  not  to  be  wantonly  and  indiscriminately  censured,  i.  87. 
Distinction  between  its  objects  and  the  designs  of  Christianity,  ii.  14,  15.  A 
well-ordered  government  provides  security  for  its  subjects,  iii.  446  ;  liberty, 
448  ;  plenty,  ib.  ;  improvement  in  social  institutions,  449  ;  stability,  450. 

CLASSICS  ;  their  eflects  on  morals,  ii.  246. 

CLERGY  ;  special  advantages  of  a  temporal  kind  possessed  by  the  English 
clergy,  ii.  181,  Importance  of  exemplary  morals  and  diligence  on  their  parts,  ib. 
Hostility  of  a  large  portion  of  them  to  evangelical  preaching,  ii.  272,  273. 
Their  unpopularity  in  consequence,  280,  281. 

CLOUDS  ;  the  appearances  of  God  under  the  former  dispensation  usually  accom- 
panied with  clouds  and  darkness,  iii.  363. 

COBBETT;  unfairness  of  his  statements  in  opposition  to  the  Framework 
Knitters'  Fund,  ii.  141.  His  objections  answered,  142,  143,  145,  146, 
148-150.     His  character  described,  150-152.     His  pernicious  designs,  153. 

COMMUNITY  OF  GOODS  ;  in  what  manner  and  to  what  extent  it  existed 
in  the  early  Christian  church,  iii.  509. 

CONDESCENSION  ;  defined  and  explained,  iii.  341.  Necessity  of  its  being 
a  voluntary  act,  341,  342.  The  condescension  of  Christ  shown  to  involve  his 
pre-existence  and  deity,  342-349.  Imitation  of  his  example  urged  and 
enforced,  349-351. 

CONDITIONS  OF  SALVATION,  i.  389.  Statement  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
New  Testament  on  that  subject,  ii.  463,  464. 

CONFIDENCE  in  human  power,  or  wisdom  in  national  affairs,  deprecated, 
i.  87. 

CONSCIENCE  ;  its  suggestions  to  be  seriously  regarded,  i.  197. 

CONSTx\NTINE  THE  GREAT;  account  of  his  baptism,  i.  318. 

CONTROVERSY  ;  its  advantages,  ii.  52,  448.  Different  grounds  for  indispo- 
sition to  theological  controversy,  447.  Spirit  in  which  it  should  be  con- 
ducted, 448. 

CONVERSION;  its  nature,  i.  138,  139.  Its  causes,  iii.  74-76.  Means  by 
which  it  is  accomplished,  76,  77. 

CONVICTIONS  OF  SIN  ;  often  stifled,  i.  137.     Sometimes  trusted  in,  138. 

COUNCIL  OF  CONSTANCE;  its  defence  of  the  violation  of  the  safe-conduct 
given  to  John  Huss,  ii.  361,  362. 

COWPER,  the  poet ;  his  epistolary  style  characterized,  ii.  467. 

COX,  Rev.  F.  A.,  i.  115. 

CRABBE,  Rev.  H. ;  sketch  of  his  character,  ii.  375. 

CREEDS  ;  their  inefficacy  to  perpetuate  correct  religious  belief,  ii.  261,  262. 

CUSTANCE  ON  THE  CONSTITUTION,  Review  of,  ii.  249-253.  Desi- 
lableness  of  general  acquaintance  with  the  laws  and  constitution  of  the  country, 
249.  Its  importance  at  the  present  time,  ib.  Character  of  the  works  of  Mil- 
lar, De  Lolme,  and  Blackstone,  250.  Mr.  Custance's  work  recommended,  as 
well  adapted  for  the  use  of  young  persons,  ib.  Criticism  on  his  opinions 
respecting  punishments,  pensions,  and  sinecures,  251. 

CYPRIAN ;  his  observations  on  the  unity  of  the  church,  i.  289,  489.  His 
violent  language  respectmg  the  baptism  of  heretics  and  schismatics,  484-487. 

DAVENTRY,  Academy  at ;  its  state  in  a  theological  point  of  view,  ii.  390. 
DAVID ;  remarkable  preservation  of  the  kingdom  in  his  family,  iii.  445.     The 
promised  perpetuity  of  his  government  realized  in  Christ,  tb. 


528  INDEX. 

DEATH;  its  solemn  consequences,  i.  191,  iii.  389  ;  its  universal  prevalence,  ii, 
372.  Christianity  the  only  means  of  dispelling  the  fear  of  death,  and  con- 
soling under  the  death  of  friends,  374,  375.  Importance  of  preparation  for 
death,  376,  iii.  396-398.  Uncertainty  of  the  time  of  death  urged  as  an  argu- 
ment for  constant  readiness,  316.  That  uncertainty  shown  to  be  wisely  and 
graciously  ordained,  325,  326.  Death  considered  as  the  enemy  of  man,  388- 
390.  Why  called  "the  last  enemy,"  390,  391.  How  conquered  by  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  195,  392,  393.  Destined  destruction  of  death,  393.  Manner 
in  which  this  should  be  contemplated  by  the  Christian,  395,  396. 

DEATH,  SPIRITUAL;  iii.  71.  Implies  the  withdrawment  of  God  from  the 
soul,  72,  73  ;   and  the  total  universal  prevalence  of  corruption,  73. 

DEATH  OF  CHRIST  ;  its  sacrificial  character,  iii.  433  ;  its  efficacy,  434. 
Absurdity  of  supposing  that  Christ  died  as  our  example,  and  not  to  atone  for 
our  sins,  437.     Extent  of  Christ's  death,  iii.  (Mem.)  76. 

DEISM  ;  its  affinity  with  Socinianism,  iii.  29-32  ;  the  gradual  manner  in  which 
it  takes  possession  of  the  mind,  212. 

DE   LOLME  ;  his  work  on  the  Constitution,  ii.  250. 

DEMOSTHENES  ;  the  most  powerful  orator  ever  known,  iii.  (Mem.)  66. 

DEPRAVITY  OF  MAN  ;  causes  of  its  extraordinary  prevalence  before  the 
deluge,  iii.  53-56.  Manner  in  which  it  aflects  the  moral  government  of  God, 
366,  367. 

DEVOTION  ;  scriptural  devotion  described,  iii.  32.  Neglect  of  devotional 
exercises  by  many  professors,  231.  Peculiar  character  of  the  devotion  of 
heaven,  200-202. 

DIFFERENCES  OF  OPINION  ;  in  the  primitive  church,  i.  324.  Manner 
in  which  the  apostle  Paul  directed  them  to  be  treated,  325-327,  462-465. 

DISPENSING  POWER,  in  religion;  its  origin  and  nature  explained,  i.  436. 
The  advocates  of  mixed  communion  vindicated  from  the  charge  of  assuming  it. 
314-316,  437-441. 

DISCOURAGEMENTS  OF  THE  PIOUS  enumerated,  iii.  372-377.  Consid- 
erations by  which  they  may  be  removed,  377-379. 

DISSENT  ;  mixed  communion  shown  to  be  consistent  with  its  principle,  i.  446- 
448,  479.     Reply  to  the  charge  that  it  tends  to  democracy,  ii.  263,  264. 

DISSENTERS  ;  reproached  and  insulted  by  the  tory  party,  ii.  76.  Historical 
defence  of  their  conduct,  76-78.  Ground  of  their  separation  from  the  estab- 
lished church,  78.  Causes  of  the  animosity  manifested  against  them,  81. 
Their  attachment  to  the  principles  of  freedom,  82.  Reply  to  the  accusation 
of  republicanism,  and  other  charges  brought  against  them,  83,  Vindicated  from 
the  charge  of  hypocrisy,  175,  176.  Absurdity  of  supposing  them  guilty  of 
revolutionary  designs,  176.  Not  ordinarily  accustomed  to  vilify  the  established 
clergy,  179.  Impossibility  of  suppressing  them  by  severe  measures,  188. 
Disastrous  consequences  of  such  an  attempt,  189,  193.  The  injury  it  would 
inflict  on  the  country,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  indicated,  189,  190.  The 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes  adduced  as  an  illustration,  190.  The  increase 
of  dissenters  owing  to  their  superior  piety  and  zeal,  260. 

DISSENTING  MINISTERS;  peculiarly  bound  to  be  well  versed  in  the  prin- 
ciples of  freedom,  ii.  21,  22. 

DONATISTS  ;  their  peculiar  sentiments,  i.  487. 

DUELLING,  ii.  2.52,  253. 

ECCLESIASTICAL  ESTABLISHMENTS  ;  opposed  to  the  scriptural  idea 
of  a  Christian  church,  i.  446.  Incompatible  with  the  spiritual  nature  of  Chris- 
tianity, ii.  78-80.  Error,  infidelity,  and  corruption  shown  to  be  their  natural 
fruits,  79,  80.  Political  evils  connected  with  them,  80.  Their  persecuting 
spirit,  ib.  The  designs  of  establishments,  as  distinct  from  those  of  religion 
pointed  out,  179,  180. 

ECLECTIC  REVIEW;  its  origin,  iii.  221. 

EDINBURGH  REVIEW  ;  notice  of  its  strictures  on  missions,  i.  174  (tiolc). 

EDUCATION  ;  its  advantages,  illustrated  by  a  comparative  view  of  the  state  of 
Scotland  and  Ireland,!.  119.     Answer  to  the  objection  that  knowledge  will 


INDEX.  529 

make  the  poor  discontenteJ  and  insubordinate,  1 19,  120.  Importance  of  popular 
religious  education,  126,  iii.  418. 

EDWARDS,  President  ;  his  definition  of  virtue,  i.  43  (note).  Mr.  Hall's  early 
and  lasting  attachment  to  his  writings,  iii.  {Mem.)  4,  65,  79. 

ELECTION,  iii.  74,  75,  (Mem.)  76.  Clearly  understood  by  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians, i.  418.     Manner  in  which  it  should  be  preached,  iii.  231. 

ENTHUSIASM  ;  definition  of  it,  ii.  200.  Not  unfrequently  indulged  at  the 
commencement  of  a  religious  course,  184,  201.  Common  mistakes  respecting 
it,  185,  201-203.  Shown  to  be  a  much  less  evil  than  superstition,  185.  Dan- 
gerous only  when  oppressed,  199.  Illustration  of  this  remark  in  the  history  of 
the  nonconformists,  ib. 

EQUALITY  OF  RIGHTS  ;  defined,  ii.  60. 

ERROR;  its  innocence  or  sinfulness,  in  what  manner  to  he  held,  iii.  258. 
Difficulty  of  precisely  ascertaining  the  evil  connected  with  it,  in  any  given  case, 
i.  348,  349. 

EUROPE  ;  its  superiority  to  Asia  and  Africa  derived  from  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity, i.  173.     Its  political  state  in  1791,  ii.  36-38,  42. 

EVANGELICAL  CLERGY  ;  their  sentiments  and  labours  described,  ii.  274-278. 
Accused  of  enthusiasm,  279.  Their  attachment  to  the  established  church,  280, 
Their  method  of  preaching  defended,  282-284.  Vindication  of  the  writers  of 
this  class,  284. 

EVIL  COMMUNICATIONS  ;  described  and  enumerated,  iii.  477,  478.  Dangers 
connected  with  them,  478-483.  Sources  of  deception  in  this  respect  pointed 
out,  483-485. 

EXCOMMUNICATION;  when  and  why  inflicted,  i.  320 ;  its  solemnity  and 
power,  339-341,  475. 

EXPEDIENCY,  in  morals,  denounced  and  exposed,  i.  96-99.  Awful  effects  of 
the  system,  99,  100. 

FACTION,  in  politics,  described,  ii.  30.  Contrast  between  the  spirit  of  piety 
and  the  spirit  of  faction,  176. 

FAITH;  defined,  iii.  117  ;  its  necessity  and  importance  in  connexion  with  mis- 
sionary labour,  i.  163.  Defects  of  the  faith  of  the  Jews  before  the  birth  of  our 
Saviour,  378.  Faith  susceptible  of  degrees,  iii.  1 18,  1 19.  Pleasures  and  advan- 
tages attending  the  increase  of  faith,  119-121.  The  divine  life  imparted  and 
received  through  faith,  428. 

FAMILY  WORSHIP  ;  practised  by  good  men  in  every  age,  iii.  130.  The 
natural  and  necessary  acknowledgments  of  our  dependence  on  God,  and  our 
obligations  to  his  goodness,  131.  Its  duty  founded  on  the  social  nature  of 
man,  132.  Its  tendency  to  produce  good  impressions  in  the  minds  of  the 
children  and  servants,  133.  The  beneficial  influence  it  exerts  on  the  character 
and  conduct  of  the  heads  of  families  themselves,  134.  Pleas  urged  for  the 
neglect  of  the  duty,  considered  and  answered,  135-137.  Hints  on  the  best 
mode  of  performing  it,  137. 

FANATICISM  ;   defined,  ii.  184.     Its  temporary  duration,  184,  200. 

FLESH  ;  meaning  of  the  word,  as  used  in  Scripture,  iii.  60.  The  claims  of  the 
flesh,  61-63.     Their  aspect  on  our  future  interests,  64. 

FLETCHER,  Rev.  J. ;  his  Lectures  on  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  ii.  337. 

FLETCHER,  of  Madelcy  ;  sketch  of  his  character,  ii.  412.  Comparison  of  his 
piety  with  that  of  Brainerd,  ib, 

FORMS  OF  PRAYER  ;  why  used  by  Socinian  ministers,  iii.  33.  Adopted  with 
advantage  in  many  instances,  135,  136. 

FOSTER'S  ESSAYS,  Review  of;  division  of  authors  into  two  classes,  ii.  233. 
Character  of  the  metaphysical  class,  233-335.  The  popular  writers  described, 
235,  236.  General  character  of  Mr.  Foster's  work,  236.  Remarks  on  the 
manner  in  which  he  has  eulogized  mental  decision,  240.  Observations  on  the 
term  "  romantic,"  240-242.  Excessive  use  of  technical  phraseology  in  religion 
condemned,  243.  Adherence  to  the  language  of  Scripture  recommended,  244. 
Origin  and  legitimate  use  of  technical  terms  stated,  ib.  A  middle  course  sug- 
VOL.  HI. — L  1 


530  INDEX. 

gested,  245,  246.     Notice  of  Mr.  Foster's  opinions  on  the  study  of  tlie  classics, 
246.     Criticisms  on  his  style,  247. 

FRAMEWORK  KNITTERS'  FUND;  its  design  and  objects,  ii.  127.  Its 
advantages,  ib.  Appeal  on  its  behalf  to  the  framework  linitters  themselves, 
129;  to  the  manufacturers,  130;  to  the  community  at  large,  ib.  Opposition 
experienced,  137.  Inadequate  remuneration  of  labour  before  the  establish- 
ment of  the  fund,  138.  Its  institution  vindicated  on  the  principles  of  policy 
and  self-defence,  and  shown  to  be  consistent  with  sound  political  economy, 
138-140.  Its  effects  in  raising  wages,  142.  Defence  of  the  fund  from  the 
attack  of  Cobbett,  142-144,  145,  146,  148-150.  Probable  consequences  of  its 
destruction,  144.  Answer  to  the  objection  that  such  an  institution  encourages 
idleness,  151. 

FRANCE  ;  state  of  that  country  before  the  revolution,  i.  69.  Dreadful  character 
of  that  revolution,  70. 

FREEDOM  ;  disappointment  of  its  friends  by  the  events  of  the  French  revolu- 
tion, i.  107.  Disastrous  effects  of  the  successes  of  Bonaparte,  109,  110. 
Connexion  between  freedom  and  the  progress  of  Christianity,  ii.  16,  17.  The 
Puritans  distinguished  for  zeal  in  its  cause,  17.  Its  principles  sustained  by 
Christianity,  18.  Distinguished  from  faction,  30.  Supposed  connexion  of  the 
principles  of  freedom  with  Unitarianism,  30-32.  Spiritual  freedom  described, 
iii.  418. 

FREEDOM  OF  THE  PRESS ;  difficulty  of  distinguishing  between  it  and 
licentiousness,  ii.  57. 

FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP;  an  inalienable  right,  ii.  187.  Impropriety  of 
nterference  with  it  on  the  part  of  the  magistrate,  188.  Its  suppression  only  to 
be  attained  by  increased  severities,  ib.,  204.  Disastrous  consequences  of  such 
severities,  189. 

FREE  INQUIRY  ;  essential  to  national  welfare,  ii.  51,  53.  Its  benefits  illus- 
trated by  an  appeal  to  history,  52.  The  establishment  of  truth  and  the  over- 
throw of  error  proved  to  be  its  natural  results,  54.  Absurdity  of  refusing  the 
right  of  inquiry,  55.  Answer  to  the  objection  that  it  tends  to  sedition  and 
anarchy,  tb.     Impolicy  of  attempting  to  suppress  it  by  force,  58. 

FREESTON,  Rev.  Joseph;  his  character  delineated,  ii.  414,  415. 

FRENCH  REVOLUTION,  i.  34.  Its  atheistical  character,  38,  53,  90  {note). 
In  what  manner  regarded  in  this  country,  101. 

FRIENDSHIP  ;  reasons  why  it  was  not  specifically  enjoined  by  our  Lord  and  his 
apostles,  i.  206,  207.  Considered  as  the  natural  fruit  of  virtue  and  piety,  207. 
Essential  to  happiness,  ib.  Its  advantages,  207-209.  Natural  and  religious 
friendship  compared,  209. 

FULLER,  Rev.  A.  ;  examination  of  his  argument  for  the  necessary  connexion 
between  ba[)tism  and  the  Lord's  Supper,  i.  424-426.  Probability  that  he  hesi- 
tated respecting  strict  communion,  ii.  209.  His  letters  on  the  sentiments  of 
Mr.  Robinson,  iii.  2.'J8.  Account  of  his  last  moments,  251.  His  character, 
i.  286,  iii.  251.  Notice  of  the  oration  delivered  by  Mr.  Hall  at  his  funeral,  iii. 
252.  Remarks  on  the  memoirs  of  his  life,  255.  Comparison  between  Mr. 
Fuller  and  Mr.  Toller,  ii.  406-408. 

FUNDAMENTAL  DOCTRINES;  what  they  are,  i.  417-419,  iii.  265-267. 
The  questions  at  issue  between  Calvinists  and  Arminians  not  to  be  classed  with 
them,  ii.  449. 

FUTURE,  The  ;  obscurity  which  God  has  thrown  upon  it,  iii.  314-316.  Wis- 
dom of  this  arrangement,  323. 

FUTURE  PUNISHMENT  ;  its  eternal  duration,  iii.  270,  271. 

FUTURE  STATE  ;  reasons  on  which  the  prol)ability  of  a  future  state  is  founded, 
ii.  372,  373.  The  grand  discovery  of  Revelation,  i.  188,  189,  ii.  373.  Reasons 
why  it  is  so  commonly  disregarded,  i.  190-192.  Importance  of  realizing  our 
connexion  with  it,  196,  ii.  374.  Delight  with  which  the  anticipation  may  be 
enjoyed,  i.  223,  224,  ii.  374.  Wisdom  of  God  in  throwing  a  degree  of  obscurity 
upon  it,  iii.  326.  Probability  that  the  happiness  of  that  state  will  be  greatly 
enhanced  in  consequence  of  this  arrangement,  327,  328. 


INDEX.  53, 

GILL,  Dt.  ;  iii.  (Mem.)  82. 

GISBORNE'S  SERJVIONS;  reviewof  their  general  character,  ii.  290.  Reasons 
of  the  publication,  ib.  Revival  of  evangelical  preaching  accompanied  at  first 
by  a  defective  inculcation  of  moral  precepts,  291,  292.  Difficulties  attending 
practical  preaching,  292,  293.  Morals  too  frequently  separated  from  Christian 
doctrine,  293,  294.  Mr.  Gisborne's  work  recommended,  as  combininn-  both, 
294,  295.  Criticisms  on  the  style,  297. 
GOD  ;  his  existence  proved,  i.  25,  iii.  13,  14.  Beneficial  influence  on  the  mind  of 
the  belief  of  a  Deity,  i.  30.  Melancholy  consequences,  in  a  moral  point  of 
view,  of  a  loss  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  31.  His  unity,  iii.  14,  15.  Spiritu- 
ality, 16.  Eternity,  192.  In  what  manner  the  lapse  of  time  is  apprehended  by 
him,  190-192.  His  invisibility,  17,  298.  Omnipotence,  298-298.  Omnipres- 
ence, 300.  Omniscience,  302,  303.  His  nature  and  manner  of  existence 
wholly  unknown,  312.  The  reverence  due  to  his  name,  170.  Criminality  of  a 
profane  use  thereof,  171-174.  The  peculiar  relation  in  which  God  stands  to 
his  people,  183.  Peculiar  union  between  God  and  the  intelligent  part  of  the 
creation,  303.  Consequent  heinousness  of  sin  against  him,  ib.  God  the  satisfy- 
ing portion  and  supreme  good  of  intelligent  beings,  304-307.  His  works  but 
imperfectly  understood,  312.  The  dispensations  of  his  providence  often  myste- 
rious, 310,  311,  314.  Mysteries  involved  in  the  discoveries  of  his  grace,  316— 
319.  These  obscurities  shown  to  be  wisely  ordained,  and  the  Divine  glory  to  be 
promoted  thereby,  319-328.  The  righteousness  of  the  government  of  God 
vindicated,  366. 
GOVERNMENT.  See  Civil  Government. 
GRACE  ;  the  great  principle  of  the  Christian  system,  iii.  153.     Divine  orace  the 

only  cure  for  the  moral  disorders  of  the  world,  368. 
GREAT  BRITAIN  ;  view  of  the  dispensations  of  Providence  towards  the  nation 
in  its  recent  history,  i.  199-201.  Its  political  state  in  1793  described,  ii.  85-90. 
In  1822,  103. 
GREGORY,  Dr.  O.  ;  review  of  his  "  Letters." — Evil  arising  from  the  injudicious 
and  superficial  discussion  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  ii.  299,  300.  Ab- 
surdities of  skepticism,  300.  Necessity  of  divine  revelation,  300-302.  Mys- 
teries in  religion  defended,  302.  Genuineness  and  authenticity  of  the  sacred 
volume,  303.  The  external  evidences  of  Christianity,  303-306.  Its  moral 
tendencies,  307.  Importance  of  its  peculiar  doctrines,  307-309.  Extremes 
necessary  to  be  avoided  in  discussing  them,  309,  310.  The  gospel  a  restorative 
dispensation,  310.  View  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  Christianity,  311-314. 
Propriety  of  designating  the  abetters  of  the  simple  humanity  of  Christ, 
Socinians,  315.  Orthodoxy  of  Dr.  Gregory's  theological  sentiments,  317. 
Commendations  of  his  style  and  manner,  tb.  Dr.  Gregory's  work  on  Mechanics, 
iii.  229. 

HALL,  Rev.  R.,  of  Arnsby  ;  his  ministerial  character  and  usefulness,  ii,  369, 
iii.  (Mem.)  3.  His  Christian  virtues,  ii.  370.  His  eminent  humility  and  pru- 
dence, 371.     Character  of  his  "  Help  to  Zion's  Travellers,"  452. 

HALL,  Rev.  R.  ;  his  birth,  iii.  {Mem.)  3.  His  delicate  health  when  a  child,  ib. 
Manner  in  which  he  learned  to  read  and  speak,  4.  His  early  thirst  for  know- 
ledge, lb.  Bookj  read  by  him  in  his  childhood,  tb.  Delivers  addresses  at  the 
age  of  eleven,  5.  Is  placed  under  Mr.  Ryland's  care,  at  Northampton,  ib. 
Enters  Bristol  Academy,  6.  His  diligence  as  a  student,  7.  Failure  in  his  first 
attempt  to  preach  at  Bristol,  7.  Set  apart  to  the  ministerial  office  by  the  church 
at  Arnsby,  8.  Sent  to  King's  College,  Aberdeen,  9.  Notice  of  the  professors 
then  teaching  there,  zA.  His  studies,  10.  Professor  Paul's  account  of  his  col- 
lege history  10,  11.  Formation  of  his  friendship  with  Sir  James  Mackintosh, 
11.  Manner  in  which  they  studied  together,  12.  Is  chosen  assistant  pastor 
with  Dr.  Evans  at  Bristol,  ib.  His  popularity,  ib.  Is  appointed  Classical 
Tutor  of  Bristol  Academy,  13.  His  propensity  to  bold  speculations  in  religion, 
14.  Anxiety  of  his  friends  on  that  account,  ib.  Letter  from  Dr.  Ryland  on 
that  subject,  with  Mr.  Hall's  reply,  14-16.  Attempts  to  imitate  Mr.  Robinson, 
of  Cambridge,  16.     His  interview  with  that  gentleman,  tb.     Writes  on  the  aboli- 

ll2 


632  INDEX. 

tion  of  the  slave-trade,  17.  Breach  with  Dr.  Evans,  ih.  Mr.  Hall's  letter  on 
his  death,  18.  His  deviations  from  orthodox  sentiments,  19,  20.  Lettertothe 
church  at  Broadmead  on  that  subject,  ib.  His  removal  to  Cambridge,  21. 
Death  of  his  father,  ib.  Salutary  effect  of  that  event  on  his  mind,  ib.  His 
suitableness  to  the  church  at  Cambridge,  and  his  first  sermon  there,  22,  iii.  208. 
Violence  of  party  politics  at  that  time,  {Mem.)  23.  Mr.  Hall's  opinions  on 
government,  23.  His  views  of  European  despotism.  ?i.  Publication  of  his 
"  Apology  for  the  Freedom  of  the  Press,"  ib.  Extensive  circulation  of  that 
work,  24.  Inconveniences  arising  from  his  political  celebrity,  ih.  His  political 
opinions  always  the  same,  ii.  49,  98.  Explanation  of  his  views  and  intentions 
in  writing  on  politics,  106.  His  delight  in  social  intercourse,  iii.  {Mem.)  25. 
His  imitations  of  Dr.  Johnson,  ib.  Resemblance  between  them,  ib.  Anecdote 
of  his  humility  and  tenderness  of  conscience,  th.  His  habits  of  forgetfulness  in 
regard  to  minor  circumstances,  25,  26.  Sketch  of  his  manners  and  habits  while 
at  Cambridge,  26.  Commencement  of  his  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Gregory,  27. 
Dr.  G.'s  first  impressions  respecting  him,  ib.  Engages  with  Dr.  G.  in  jointly 
studying  mathematics  and  mental  philosophy,  31-33.  His  pastoral  visits,  28. 
His  encouragement  of  social  prayer-meetings,  ib.  His  condescending  kindness 
to  the  poor  of  his  flock,  ib.  His  dislike  of  vanity  and  conceit,  ib.  {note).  His 
opinion  of  Cambridgeshire  scenery,  29.  View  of  his  extensive  studies  at  Cam- 
bridge, 30.  Acquires  the  Hebrew  language,  ib.  His  attachment  to  the  writings 
of  Plato,  31.  Incidents  and  remarks  illustrative  of  Mr.  Hall's  peculiarities  of 
thought  and  expression,  33-35.  His  growth  in  piety,  35.  Salutary  effect  of 
his  illness  in  1799,  ib.,  iii.  213.  Change  of  views  respecting  the  personality  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  {Mem.)  35.  Description  of  his  public  services,  36-38.  Intense 
interest  which  his  discourses  excited,  37,  38.  His  humble  views  of  his  own 
character  and  labours,  iii.  228,  244,  246.  His  method  of  preparation  for  the 
pulpit,  i.  21,  iii.  {Mem.)  39,  40.  His  care  and  labour  when  writing  for  the 
press,  40.  Commencement  of  his  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Parr,  41.  Formation 
of  his  hijbit  of  smoking,  tb.  Publication  of  his  sermon  on  modern  infidelity, 
42.  Singular  manner  in  which  it  was  prepared  for  the  press,  i.  21,22.  Th« 
controversy  it  occasioned,  iii.  {Mem.)  42,  43.  Its  flattering  reception  by  the 
public  in  general,  43.  Letter  from  Sir  James  Mackintosh  respecting  it,  44. 
Attendance  of  many  members  of  the  university  at  Mr.  Hall's  place  of  worship, 
45.  x\ttempt  to  prevent  it  frustrated  by  Dr.  Mansel,  2b.  Publication  of  his 
sermon  on  War,  46.  His  sermon  on  the  "  Sentiments  proper  to  the  present 
Crisis,"  ib.  General  admiration  with  which  it  was  received,  ib.  First  sketch 
of  that  sermon,  47.  Some  defects  in  Mr.  H.'s  character  mentioned,  48,  49. 
His  retirement  to  Shelford,  49.  First  attack  of  derangement,  ib.  Liberality  of 
the  church  at  Cambridge  on  that  occasion,  50.  Second  attack,  ib.  Resigna- 
tion of  his  pastoral  charse,  ib.  Sir  J.  Mackintosh's  letter  on  hearing  of  his 
recovery  from  his  first  attack,  51,  52.  Beneficial  effects  of  these  dispensations 
on  Mr.  Hall's  religious  character,  52,  iii.  224.  His  solemn  dedication  of  himself 
to  God,  {Mem.)  53.  Retires  to  Leicestershire,  54.  Becomes  pastor  of  the 
Baptist  church  at  Leicester,  ib.  Success  of  his  ministry  there,  ib.  His  mar- 
riage, ib.,  iii.  232.  His  general  usefulness  at  Leicester,  {Mem.)  55.  Publica- 
tion of  his  review  of  "  Zeal  without  Innovation,"  57.  His  objections  to  writing 
reviews,  iii.  253.  His  other  publications  while  at  Leicester,  {Mem.)  57,  58. 
Trying  state  of  his  health,  iii.  242,  243.  His  work  on  Communion,  {Mem.)  60. 
Correspondence  with  a  friend  on  occasional  communion  with  the  Church  of 
England,  61.  Increased  spirit  of  devotion,  62.  Objection  to  the  presence  of 
strangers  during  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  ib.  His  lectures  on 
Unitarianism,  62.  Intense  sutlerings  from  his  constitutional  disorder,  63. 
Leaves  Leicester,  ib.  Success  of  his  labours  at  Bristol,  64.  Unabated  con- 
tinuance of  his  literary  ardour,  65,  66.  Sketch  of  his  general  habits  during  his 
residence  at  Bristol,  67,  68.  His  attachment  to  his  children,  08.  Extracts 
from  his  private  diary,  69.  His  solicitude  for  the  poor  of  the  church,  ib.  Decay 
of  his  health,  ib.  Letter  to  his  son,  70.  Interesting  prayer-meeting  on  New- 
year's  day,  1831,  71.  His  last  service  at  Broadmead,  72.  Account  of  his 
last  illness  and  death,  72-75.     Collection  of  Mr.  Hall's  conversational  remarks, 


INDEX.  533 

76-82.  Extracts  from  Sir  J.  Mackintosh's  Review  of  his  sermon  on  Modern 
Infidelity,  83,  84.  Sir  J.  Mackintosh's  defence  of  Mr.  H.  against  the  attack 
of  B.  Flower,  84-86.  Dr.  Parr's  eulogium  of  Mr.  H.,  86,  87.  Character  of 
Mr.  H.  as  a  preacher,  by  Mr.  J.  Scott,  87,  88.  Dr.  Prichard's  account  of  the 
post-mortem  examination  of  his  body,  89.  Sketch  of  his  character  by  the  Rev. 
W.  Anderson,  89,  90;  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Sprague,  90,  91  ;  by  the  Rev.  T.  Grin- 
field,  A.M.  91-93. 

Character  of  Mr.  Hall  as  a  Preacher  ;  Abatement  of  the  energy 

and  splendour  of  his  eloquence  in  advancing  age,  iii.  (Obs.)  95.  Decline  of  the 
power  of  his  imagination,  96.  Unaltered  vigour  of  his  intellect,  ib.  Descrip- 
tion of  his  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  97.  Strictures  on  his  public  prayers, 
97-99.  Each  of  his  sermons  had  some  definite  purpose,  99.  The  distribution 
of  his  subject  always  simple  and  inartificial,  100.  Plainness  of  his  introduc- 
tions, ib.  Progress  of  his  arguments  and  illustrations,  101.  His  perfect  con- 
ception and  expression  of  all  his  thoughts,  ib.  The  essence  and  effects  of 
reasoning  displayed  in  his  sermons  without  the  forms,  102.  His  complete 
mastery  of  language,  103.  General  style  of  his  sermons,  ib.  Warmth  of  his 
emotions,  104.  Complete  oblivion  of  self,  104-106.  Peculiarity  of  action 
when  much  excited,  105.  Subserviency  of  his  imagination  to  his  intellectual 
design,  106.  Seriousness  of  his  spirit  and  manner,  ib.  Mental  abstraction 
frequently  observable  in  his  preaching,  107.  Advantages  derived  to  his  preach- 
ing from  the  study  of  metaphysics,  107,  108.  The  originality  of  his  sermons 
characterized,  108.  His  uniform  deference  to  revelation,  100.  Pertinency  of 
his  quotations  from  Scripture,  ib.  His  choice  of  subjects,  ib.  His  general 
theological  tenets,  1 10.  His  views  and  practice  respecting  addresses  to  sinners, 
110,  111.  His  aversion  to  bold  speculations,  and  attempts  to  explain  the  myste- 
rious truths  of  the  Christian  economy,  111-113.  His  preaching  too  general 
and  theoretic,  not  adapted  to  discriminate  and  individualize  human  character, 
113,  114,  115-117.  His  description  of  Christian  character  more  brilliant  than 
the  actual  reality,  118,  119.  The  depravity  of  human  nature  too  little  taken 
into  the  account  in  his  sermons,  119,  120.  His  representations  of  the  happiness 
of  the  Christian  life  rather  accordant  with  the  privileges  of  Christians  than 
with  their  actual  state,  120,  121.  Pleasing  exceptions  to  this  remark  in  many 
of  his  sermons,  122.  Eminent  usefulness  of  his  preaching,  123.  Irreparable 
loss  sustained  by  his  death,  124. 

HAPPINESS,  iii.  19  ;  only  to  be  found  in  religion,  141,  336.  God,  the  sole 
source  of  it,  304-307.  Mistaken  notions  of  those  who  suppose  that  they  should 
be  happier  in  any  other  sphere  than  that  in  which  Providence  has  placed  them, 
337.  Necessity  of  Divine  grace  in  order  to  the  attainment  of  genuine  happi- 
ness, 338,  339.     Its  connexion  with  Christian  benevolence,  456. 

HEALING,  the  art  of,  the  gift  of  God,  ii.  484.  Founded  on  the  ascertained 
laws  of  nature,  ib.  Compared  with  the  dealings  of  Divine  Providence,  485. 
Contrasted  with  the  art  of  war,  486. 

HEARING  THE  WORD  ;  this  duty  to  be  performed  with  prayer,  i.  252  ;  with 
reverence  and  esteem  of  the  gospel,  253  ;  with  attention,  ib.  ;  with  impartiality, 
254 ;  with  self-application,  255  ;  with  candour,  256  ;  with  resolution  to  obey 
it,  257  ;  with  concern  that  the  impressions  may  be  retained  and  perpetuated, 
258. 

HEAVEN  ;  as  a  place  represented  by  the  ancient  tabernacle,  iii.  38.  Described 
as  the  reward  of  the  pious,  164—168  ;  its  employments  contrasted  with  those 
of  the  ancient  temple,  200,  201.  Peculiar  character  of  the  devotion  of  heaven, 
202,  203.  The  Christian  church  instituted  as  a  means  of  preparation  for 
heaven,  i.  499. 

HEART  ;  metaphorical  use  of  the  word  in  Scripture,  iii.  128.  Nature  and  im- 
portance of  engagedness  of  the  heart  in  approaching  to  God,  129. 

HENRY,  Matthew  ;  excellence  of  his  Commentary,  iii.  (Mem.)  67. 

HERBERT,  Lord,  i.  24. 

HEY,  Mr.  ;  strictures  on  his  work  entitled  "  Happiness  and  Rights,"  ii.  69-75. 

HILL,  Rev.  Rowland,  iii.  214. 

HINDOOISM  ;  its  impurity  and  cruelty,  ii.  112. 


534  INDEX. 

HOMER  ;  compared  with  Milton,  ii.  357,  358.  Moral  effects  of  ihetitudy  of  his 
works,  246.     His  descriptions  of  the  pagan  deities,  iii.  491. 

HORSLEY,  Bishop  ;  his  attempt  to  re-establish  the  doctrines  of  passive  obedience 
and  non-resistance,  ii.  43-46.  His  inconsistency  in  aflecting  to  admire  the 
British  constitution,  46.  His  hatred  of  dissenters,  47,  171.  Answer  to  his 
attack  on  village  preaching,  173-175.  His  approbation  of  Sunday-schools,  if 
placed  under  the  control  of  the  clergy,  175. 

HOSIERY  TRADE  ;  its  depressed  state,  ii.  143. 

HOSPITALS  FOR  THE  SICK  ;  pecuharto  Christianity,  ii.  487.  The  benefits 
bestowed  by  them  on  the  poor,  ib. 

HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  ;  how  managed  by  the  ministry,  ii.  63.  Importance 
of  such  a  reform  as  should  make  it  really  a  representative  assembly,  104. 

HOWARD,  the  philanthropist  ;  delineation  of  his  character,  ii.  239,  240. 

HOWE,  John  ;  character  of  his  writings,  iii.  {Mem.)  78. 

HUGHES,  Rev.  Joseph,  iii.  26.5. 

HUMANITY  ;  the  principles  on  which  it  is  founded,  i.  36,  37.  How  affected  by 
the  infidel  system,  37-39. 

HUME,  David,  i.  24. 

HUMILITY;  defined,  iii.  149.  The  genuine  fruit  of  religion,  i.  35.  Its  in- 
fluence on  the  Christian's  views  of  his  own  character,  iii.  150-152.  The  effects 
it  produces  on  the  mind,  in  regard  to  the  contemplation  and  reception  of  Divine 
truth,  152-154. 

HUTCHINSONIANISM  ;  remarks  on,  iii.  273. 

IDOLATRY  ;  its  powerful,  practical  influence  on  the  mind  and  conduct,  i.  162, 
163.  Feelings  with  which  it  should  be  viewed  by  the  Christian  missionary, 
169.  Chargeable  on  the  Roman  Catholic  system,  iii.  299,  300.  Its  tendency 
to  produce  low  and  degrading  views  of  the  Divine  Being,  299.  Its  deep  crim- 
inahty  in  the  sight  of  God,  488-490.  Its  anti-moral  influence  490-492.  Chris- 
tianity destined  to  overthrow  idolatry,  492. 

IGNORANCE  ;  favourable  to  superstition,  i.  120. 

IMMORTALITY  OF  MAN  ;  its  necessity  and  certainty,  iii.  .385,380. 

INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST  ;  its  necessity,  i.  271,  iii.  499.  Its  design,  iii. 
308.  Fitness  of  the  time  when  it  took  place,  505-507.  The  most  important 
event  in  the  annals  of  the  world,  507. 

INDIA;  moral  state  of  that  country,  i.  168.  Injurious  influence  of  residence 
th«re  on  European  character,  169.  State  of  the  law  respecting  the  settlement 
of  missionaries  there,  ii.  109.  Success  of  missions  in  that  country,  110-112. 
Benefits  of  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  112-114.  Its  effects  in  consolidating 
the  British  power,  11.5.  Probable  design  of  Providence,  in  subjugating  India 
to  the  power  of  Britain,  ib.     Duties  thence  arising,  116,  117. 

INFANT  BAPTISM  ;  light  ia  which  its  rejection  is  viewed  by  Pedobaptists, 
i.  456,  457.     Its  gradual  introduction  into  the  Christian  church,  481. 

INFIDELITY  ;  change  of  measures  adopted  by  its  modern  advocates,  i.  17,  24. 
Reason  for  that  change,  18.  The  sources  of  infidelity  pointed  out,  23,  96. 
Sketch  of  its  history  in  England,  24.  Infidelity  incapable  of  cherishing  virtue, 
26.  Supplies  no  adequate  motives  for  the  avoidance  of  vice,  27.  The  perpetra- 
tion of  enormous  crimes  its  natural  result,  ib.  Infidels  never  distinguished  for 
moral  greatness  and  generous  actions,  28,  29.  Infidelity  destroys  the  moral 
taste,  30-32.  It  promotes  the  growth  of  vanity,  or  pride,  32-36  ;  of  ferocity, 
36-39  ;  of  unbridled  sensuality,  39-43.  Modern  infidelity  the  first  general 
effort  to  establish  the  principles  of  atheism,  44.  Its  diffusion  among  the  com- 
mon people  a  peculiar  and  alarming  symptom,  45.  The  verj'  sulsstance  of 
morals  subverted  by  it,  46.  Its  prevalence  foretold  in  Scripture,  ib.  Certainty 
of  its  destruction,  47.  Probable  design  of  Providence  in  permitting  its  tem- 
porary spread,  ib.  The  fi)liy  and  impiety  of  embracing  the  system,  48.  Nom- 
inal (christians  most  in  danger  of  falling  into  the  snare,  49.  Motives  to  infidel 
zeal,  50.  Its  probable  beneficial  influence  on  real  Christianity,  ji.  Importance 
of  guarding  the  voung  against  it,  ib.  Danger  arising  from  intercourse  with 
infidels,  iii.  4S2,  483. 


INDEX.  535 

INVISIBILITY   OF  GOD,  iii.  298. 

INTERCESSION  ;  the  duty  of  springs  from  the  relation  in  which  we  stand  to 

our  fellow-creatures,  iii.  185.     Is  inferred  from  the  general  principles  of  reason 

and  religion,  186.     Its  tendency  to  increase  benevolence,  ih.     Its  success,  187. 

Objects  of  intercession,  188. 
IVIMEY,  Rev.  J.  ;  character  of  his  "History  of  the  English  Baptists,"  i.  483, 

iii.  267. 

JANEWAY,  Rev.  J.  ;  his  triumphant  death,  ii.  454,  455.  Contemplated  as  a 
gracious  reward  for  the  eminent  holiness  of  his  life,  45.5. 

JEHOVAH;  import  of  the  name,  iii.  13.  Reasons  for  its  use,  15.  Reverence 
in  which  it  was  held  by  the  Jews,  171. 

JEWS  ;  imperfection  of  their  knowledge  and  faith,  previous  to  the  gospel  dis- 
pensation, i.  372-382.  Their  ancient  privileges,  iii.  158.  The  chosen  instru- 
ments for  communicating  the  will  of  God  to  man,  159.  Peculiarity  of  their 
present  condition,  ii.  468.  Essential  difference  between  them  and  other  unbe- 
lievers, ih.  Righteous  condemnation  of  the  ancient  Jews  for  rejecting  Christ, 
469.  Altered  position  in  which  Christianity  stands  towards  modern  Jews,  ib. 
The  Old  Testament  contains  all  that  is  necessary  to  be  known  in  order  to  sal- 
vation, 470.  Possibility  that  some  of  them  may  be  in  a  state  of  grace,  ib. 
Their  condition  not  more  incompatible  with  salvation  than  that  of  conscientious 
Roman  Catholics,  471,  472.  Incomplete  knowledge  possessed  by  Christians 
respecting  their  moral  state,  472.  Considered  as  still  existing  in  peculiar 
relation  to  Jehovah,  472,  473.  Tenderness  with  which  they  should  be  treated, 
473.  Guilt  of  Christian  nations  in  that  respect,  ib.  Disposition  of  the 
ancient  Jews  to  place  confidence  in  the  power  of  surrounding  nations,  iii. 
295,  296. 

JOHN  THE  APOSTLE  ;  reason  of  our  Lord's  attachment  to  him,  i.  209. 
Character  of  his  writings,  210-212.  The  distinguishing  privileges  enjoyed  by 
him,  212,213. 

JOHN  THE  BAPTIST  ;  diflerenre  between  his  baptism  and  Christian  baptism, 
i.  294-299,  369,  370.  Illustrated  by  the  case  of  the  disciples  at  Ephesus,  299, 
370.  Observations  on  his  character,  iii.  333,  334.  Effects  of  his  ministry, 
i.  300-302.  His  ministry  considered  as  constituting  a  peculiar  dispensation, 
303,  372.  Probable  extent  of  knowledge  possessed  by  his  disciples,  374-377. 
His  anxiety  to  bear  testimony  to  Christ,  iii.  430. 

KINGDOM  OF  CHRIST  ;  its  origin,  iii.  89,  90.  Its  principles,  and  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  administered,  90-92.  It  is  a  spiritual  kingdom,  354.  Its  right- 
eousness, 355.  A  kingdom  of  grace,  356.  Superiority  to  all  earthly  kingdoms, 
356,  357.  Character  of  its  subjects,  357,  358.  The  privileges  attached  to  it, 
358-360.  Its  advance,  360.  Its  perpetuity,  361,  450.  Importance  of  being 
in  it,  361,  362.  Comparison  of  its  blessings  with  the  advantages  derived  from 
a  well-ordered  civil  government,  446-451. 

KINGHORN,  Rev.  Joseph,  iii.  262.  Character  of  his  work  on  communion, 
i.  393,  398.  Difference  between  him  and  Mr.  Booth,  458,  500.  Opposite 
opinions  entertained  by  him  and  Mr.  Fuller,  on  the  connexion  between  baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper,  ii.  219. 

KNOWLEDGE  ;  the  faculty  of  acquiring  it  constitutes  the  superiority  of  man 
over  the  brute  creation,  i.  117.  Its  peculiar  pleasures,  118.  Tends  to  exalt 
the  character  and  subdue  sensuality,  ib.  The  benefits  it  ensures  to  the  poor, 
119.  Christianity  friendly  to  its  difl'usion,  120.  Vast  importance  of  religious 
knowledge,  121,  123.  The  pleasures  of  knowledg:e  enjoyed  but  by  few,  iii.  384. 
Not  necessarily  connected  with  real  happiness,  ib.  Astonishing  progress  of 
knowledge  during  the  last  century,  416. 

LABOUR  ;  the  mechanic  necessitated  to  offer  it  at  whatever  price  it  will  fetch, 
ii.  125.  Ruinous  effects,  when  the  quantity  of  labour  exceeds  the.demand,  127, 
128,  139.     Iniquity  of  inadequate  remuneration,  154. 

LAMB  OF  GOD  ;  Christ  so  called  ;  his  innocence  and  patience  indicated  by  the 


536  INDEX. 

expression,  iii.  431—433.  The  design  of  his  appearance,  to  make  a  sacrifice  for 
sin,  the  principal  reason  of  the  appellation,  433.  Comparison  between  the 
paschal  sacrifice  and  the  death  of  Christ,  434—437.  Import  of  the  exhortation 
to  "  behold  the  Lamb  of  God,"  437-443. 

LAW  OF  ENGLAND  ;  necessity  of  revision  and  amendment  in  it,  ii.  89. 

LAW  OF  GOD  ;  vindicated  and  honoured  by  Christ,  i.  272,  273.  The  expres- 
sion often  used  to  denote  the  preceptive  part  of  Scripture,  iii.  112.  Manner  in 
■which  it  is  regarded  by  the  people  of  God,  113-116.  In  what  respects  the 
Saviour  was  "  made  under  the  law,  iii.  497-499. 

LAW  OF  MOSES  ;  reasons  for  its  institution,  iii.  93,  94.  Its  threefold  division, 
168.  In  what  respects  still  obligatory,  ib.  Difference  of  opinion  in  the  primitive 
church  respecting  the  observance  of  its  ceremonies,  i.  462-465. 

LAWS  ;  should  correspond  with  the  moral  feelings  of  man,  iii.  191,  205.  Their 
salutary  influence  destroyed  when  the  contrary  is  the  fact,  191,  192. 

LEANDER  VAN  ESS,  iii.  420. 

LEARNING  ;  its  usefulness  to  the  Christian  minister,  ii.  440,  441. 

LEICESTERSHIRE  ;  its  former  prosperity  compared  with  its  present  state, 
ii.  132. 

LEIGHTON,  Archbishop  ;  character  of  his  writings,  iii.  210,  211. 

LEPROSY  ;  a  supernatural  disease,  iii.  94.  Its  typical  import,  95.  The  leprosy 
of  sin  described,  96-99.  Method  of  cure,  97,  98.  Importance  of  seeking  that 
cure,  99-101. 

LIF"E  ;  compared  to  a  river,  iii.  332.  Obedience  to  the  will  of  God  shown  to 
be  the  great  object  of  life,  334,  335.  The  course  of  human  life  limited  and 
short,  335.  Importance  of  endeavouring  to  fulfil  our  course  according  to  the 
will  of  God,  336-339. 

LINDSEY,  Rev.  T. ;  his  early  life,  ii.  319,  320.  His  scruples  respecting  the 
lawfulness  of  Trinitarian  worship,  320.  His  dissimulation  in  continuing  to 
subscribe  the  articles,  and  hold  his  preferment,  320,  321,  Resignation  of 
his  living,  322.  Opening  of  the  chapel  in  Essex-street,  ib.  His  death,  323. 
Slight  eflect  produced  by  his  secession  from  the  established  church,  jb. 
Character  of  his  writings,  327,  328.  Examination  of  the  claim  advanced  for 
him  to  be  ranked  with  the  silenced  and  ejected  ministers  in  the  time  of  Charles 
II.,  332-334. 

LORD'S  DAY;  commemoration  of  Christ's  resurrection,  iii.  193-196.  Profaned 
by  military  exercises  in  the  last  war,  i.  102. 

LORD'S  SUPPER  ;  impropriety  of  making  it  the  sole  token  of  Christian  com- 
munion, i.  291.  Not  founded  on  baptism,  423.  Not  necessarily  connected  with 
it,  423-425.     Extensive  prevalence  of  the  contrary  opinion,  ii.  212. 

LOVE  ;  its  supposed  inconveniences  and  evils  described,  ii.  346-349.  Effects 
of  the  imagined  banishment  of  this  passion  from  the  earth,  349-351.  Its 
benefits  and  influence,  353. 

LOVE  OF  LIFE  ;  the  simplest  and  strongest  principle  of  our  nature,  iii.  424. 
Its  source  and  effects,  421—426. 

LOVE  OF  THE  BRETHREN;  defined  and  distinguished,  iii.  181, 182.  Proves 
that  we  are  not  of  the  world,  182.  Its  manifestation  described,  183,  184.  Ex- 
istence of  this  disposition  an  evidence  of  love  to  God,  462. 

LOVE  TO  GOD,  iii.  252.  Marks  of  love  to  God  enumerated,  460-464.  Emo- 
tions with  which  the  absence  of  this  disposition  should  be  contemplated, 
464-466. 

LUTHER ;  grounds  of  his  separation  from  the  Church  of  Rome,  i.  449. 

MACKINTOSH,  Sir  James  ;  his  early  friendship  with  Mr.  Hall,  iii.  (Mem.)  11. 
Their  united  studies,  ib.  Letter  from  Sir  James  respecting  Mr.  Hall's  sermon 
on  Modern  Infidelity,  44  His  letter  written  on  occasion  of  Mr.  Hall's  recovery 
from  derangement,  51,  52.  Extract  from  his  review  of  Mr.  Hall's  sermon,  83, 
84.  His  defence  of  Mr.  Hall  against  the  attack  of  B.  Flower,  84-86.  Obser- 
vations on  his  talents  and  mental  powers,  80. 

MACKNIGHT,  Dr. ;  his  Commentary  on  the  Epistles  characterized,  iii.  {Mem.  ■ 
79. 


INDEX.  537 

MAGEE,  Archbishop,  iii.  {Mem.)  76,  77. 

MALAN,  Dr.  ;  account  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Hall,  iii.  286. 

MAN ;  his  dignity,  as  derived  from  his  probationary  state  and  his  immortality, 
i.  36.  Naturally  disposed  to  think  favourably  of  his  own  moral  character  and 
state,  136.  Qualified  to  know  and  enjoy  God,  iii.  57,  58.  Vanity  of  man, 
apart  from  his  immortality,  described,  380-385. 

MANUAL  LABOUR;  a  large  portion  of  the  humanrace  destined  to  spend  their 
lives  in  it,  iii.  381. 

MARRIAGE  ;  authorized  and  dignified  by  Christianity,  i.  39.  How  regarded  by 
infidels,  tb.  Divinely  ordained  to  secure  the  civilization  of  the  world,  40.  Ad- 
mirably adapted  to  promote  tender  and  benevolent  affections,  41. 

MARSHMAN,  Dr. ;  strictures  on  his  conduct  to  the  committee  of  the  Baptist 
Missionary  Society,  ii.  444. 

MARTIN,  Rev.  J.,  ii.  32  {note 

MARTYN,  Henry  ;  sketch  of  his  character,  ii.  413. 

MASON,  Dr.,  of  New-York ;  his  work  on  Catholic  communion,  i.  394,  395,  490. 

MATTER  ;  incapable,  of  itself,  of  thought  and  perception,  iii.  18.  Probability 
that  it  forms  part  of  the  constitution  of  all  created  beings,  42.  The  motion  of 
matter  dependent  on  mind,  297,  298. 

METAPHYSICS,  iii.  {Mem.)  80.  Temporary  popularity  of  writers  in  that 
branch  of  science,  ii.  234.      Its  utility  in  the  detection  of  sophistry,  452. 

MIDDLE  AGES  ;  peculiarities  of  the  period  so  denominated,  ii.  52. 

MILITARY  EXERCISES  ;  their  appointment  on  the  Lord's  day  censured, 
i.  102. 

MILLAR,  Professor;  character  of  his  work  on  the  "  Constitution,"  ii.  250. 

MILLENNIUM,  the  ;  a  period  of  remarkable  knowledge,  i.  121.  Its  effects  and 
blessings,  iii.  370,  371. 

MILTON  ;  compared  with  Homer,  ii.  357,  358. 

MIND  ;  shown  to  be  the  source  of  all  power,  iii.  297,  298.  The  order  of  the 
moral  world  maintained  by  the  action  of  mind  upon  mind,  478,  479. 

MINISTERS,  Christian;  design  of  their  appointment,  iii.  196.  Christ's  care 
of  them,  197.  Specially  called  upon  to  resist  and  expose  infidelity,  i.  17. 
Their  duty  in  regard  to  politics,  ii.  20,  21,  22,  23,  99.  Importance  of  their 
entire  submission  to  the  Word  of  God,  475.  Prayer  for  their  people  urged,  479. 
Watchful  regard  to  their  edification  recommended,  ib.  Hints  on  the  manner  in 
which  they  should  treat  inquirers,  480.  Directions  for  social  visits,  481.  Per- 
sonal piety  pressed,  ib.  Encouragement  to  seek  strength  from  Christ,  482,  483. 
The  reward  of  the  faithful  minister,  i.  150,  151. 

MINISTRY,  Christian  ;  divinely  appointed  and  peculiar  to  Christianity,  i.  143. 
Its  dignity  and  importance,  149,  150,  iii.  472.  Solemnity  and  magnitude  of  its 
duties,  i.  135-139.  Difficulties  in  discharging  them,  139,  140.  Seriousness 
and  affection  specially  recommended,  141,  142.  Utility  of  pastoral  visits,  142. 
Necessity  of  correct  moral  deportment,  ib.  Unmingled  success  not  to  be  ex- 
pected, 143.  The  perfection  of  the  gospel  a  great  source  of  encouragement, 
144,  145.  Christian  morality  to  be  fully  and  evangelically  inculcated,  145,  146. 
Influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  promised,  146-148.  Desirableness  of  realizing  a 
constant  sense  of  dependence  on  his  aid,  148-150.  Contrast  between  the  labour 
of  the  minister  and  that  of  the  missionary,  168,  169. 

MISSIONARIES  ;  their  qualifications  enumerated,  i.  159-176.  Suggestions 
on  the  most  suitable  method  of  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  170,  171. 
Importance  of  avoiding  theological  controversies,  171.  Situation  of  mission- 
aries favourable  to  the  adoption  of  a  more  pure,  simple,  and  apostolical  mode 
of  preaching,  172.  Hinderances  formerly  existing  to  their  settlement  in  India, 
ii.  109. 

MISSIONS  TO  THE  HEATHEN;  defended  in  parhament,  in  1813,  i.  174. 
Different  views  with  which  they  are  regarded  by  statesmen  and  by  Christian 
ministers,  174,  175.  Their  success  in  India,  ii.  110-112.  Answer  to  the 
objection  that  the  sanction  of  miracles  is  now  wanting,  118-120.  Necessity 
of  engaging  in  them  in  a  spirit  of  absolute  dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit's 
power,  iii.  404,  406,  409.     Importance  of  prayer  in  this  connexion,  407.     All 


638  INDEX. 

pomp  and  parade  to  b&  avoided,  408.  Divine  influence  not  yet  bestowed  as 
in  the  early  history  of  Christianity,  410.  Abundant  outpouring  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  yet  to  be  expected,  411,  412.  General  prevalence  of  a  missionary  spirit, 
419. 
MIXED  COMMUNION ;  its  advocates  vindicated  from  the  charge  of  assuming 
a  dispensing  power,  i.  314-316,  437-439.  The  argument  derived  from  the 
obligation  of  brotherly  love,  321-324.  The  injunctions  of  Scripture  respecting 
brethren  who  differ  in  sentiment,  pleaded,  324-327,  ii.  223,  224.  Objections 
answered,  i.  328-330.  The  fact  urged  that  Pedobaptists  belong  to  the  true 
church,  332,  333.  Their  exclusion  is  a  punishment,  337-341.  Mixed  com- 
munion implies  no  sanction  of  infant  sprinkling,  341-343.  The  impossibility 
of  reducing  the  opposite  practice  to  any  general  principle,  344—351.  Argument 
from  the  impolicy  of  strict  communion,  355-358.  Suggestions  relative  to  the 
conduct  of  churches  in  which  the  majority  of  the  members  approve  of  mixed 
communion,  396-398.  General  agreement  among  the  adherents  o/  the  practice, 
402,  403.  Vindication  from  the  charge  of  sanctioning  a  corruption  of  baptism, 
or  a  virtual  repeal  of  that  ordinance,  440-442.  Answer  to  the  objection  that 
mixed  communion  is  inconsistent  with  the  principles  of  dissent  and  of  Prot- 
estantism, 446-450.  Probability  that  it  prevailed  among  the  primitive  churches, 
and  during  the  middle  ages,  481-483.  Its  increasing  prevalence  in  modern 
churches  expected,  501,  502.  Its  effects  on  the  Baptist  denomination,  ii.  228. 
Its  adoption  urged  from  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  the  prospects  of  the  church, 
229,  230. 

MORAL  INABILITY  ;  remarks  on,  ii.  449,  450.  Consistency  of  the  doctrine 
with  human  responsibility  and  guilt,  450-452. 

MORALS ;  subverted  by  inlidelity,  i.  26-29.  Injurious  effects  of  war  upon 
morals,  63-65.  Morals  corrupted  by  a  loose  theology,  96.  The  same  effect 
produced  by  the  sj'stem  of  expedien^cy,  96-100.  Comparison  of  the  opinions 
of  Mr.  Hume  on  this  subject  with  those  of  Aristotle  and  Cicero,  101  (note). 
Manner  in  which  it  should  be  treated  by  Christian  ministers,  145,  146.  Religion 
always  productive  of  good  morals,  ii.  203,  204. 

MORRIS'S  LIFE  OF  FULLER,  i.  219. 

MYSTERIES  OF  REVELATION  ;  not  inconsistent  with  reason,  152,  153. 
Humility  and  teachableness  with  which  they  should  be  received,  153.  Im- 
portance of  holding  them  fast,  i.  106.     Their  practical  influence,  iii.  316-319. 

NAME  OF  GOD  ;  in  what  manner  profanely  used,  iii.  170.  The  same  respect 
due  to  it  as  to  God  himself,  tb.  Its  use  on  light  and  trivial  occasions  a  sign 
of  irreverence  towards  him,  171,  172.  Tendency  of  the  practice  to  obliterate 
all  traces  of  religion  from  the  mind,  173.  No  reasonable  temptation  to  the 
vice,   174. 

NATIONAL  DEBT  ;  consequences  of  its  increase,  ii.  84,  85. 

NATIONAL  JUDGMENTS  ;  in  what  manner  they  are  to  be  contemplated,  i. 
86,  87.  Not  always  first  inflicted  on  the  guiltiest  people,  89.  The  hand  of 
God  to  be  acknovvledged  in  them,  94. 

NATIONAL  SINS  ;  what  they  are,  i.  92,  93. 

NEWTON,  Sir  Isaac  ;  his  opinion  of  the  Baptists,  i.  356  (note).  His  modesty, 
iii.  313. 

0.\THS  ;  needlessly  multiplied  by  the  legislature,  iii.  169.  Criminality  of  pro- 
fane oaths,  173. 

OCCASIONAL  CONFORMITY  ;  letter  from  Mr.  Hall  on  that  subject,  iii. 
(Mem.)  61. 

OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD,  iii.  300.  Implies  and  proves  his  spirituality, 
300,  301. 

OMNISCIENCE  OF  GOD,  iii.  302,  303. 

ORDINATIONS  ;  in  what  manner  they  should  be  conducted,  iii.  286. 

ORTON'S  LETTERS  TO  STEDMAN  ;  character  of  that  work,  iii.  214. 

OVERTON,  Rev.  J. ;  character  of  his  "  True  Churchman  ascertained,"  ii.  289. 

OWEN,  Dr.  ;  character  of  his  works,  iii.  (Mem.)  78. 


INDEX.  539 

PAGANISM  ;  its  licentious  tendency,  i.  31.  Preferable  to  modem  infidelity, 
31,  44. 

PAIjEY,  Dr. ;  his  defence  of  ministerial  influence  in  parliament,  ii.  64. 

PARKHURST,  Rev.  J.,  iii.  273. 

PARLIAMENT  ;  its  independence  necessary,  ii.  64.  Desirableness  of  refornj  in 
parliament,  61,  62.  Annual  parliaments  recommended,  62-64.  Influence  of 
the  peers  deprecated,  65. 

PARR,  Dr. ;  Mr.  Hall's  acquaintance  with  him,  iii.  (Mem.)  41.  His  eulogium  of 
Mr.  Hall,  86. 

PARTY  SPIRIT;  its  injurious  effects  on  religious  inquiry,  i.  352,  353,  354. 
Evils  attending  its  indulgence  in  a  legislative  assembly,  ii.  65,  66. 

PATIENCE  ;  essentially  necessary  to  the  Christian,  iii.  154-156.  Its  nature 
and  excellence,  156,  157. 

PATRIOTISM  ;  how  inculcated  in  the  New  Testament,  i.  20.5. 

PAUL  THE  APOSTLE  ;  his  conversion,  iii.  79-84.  Union  of  tenderness  and 
energy  in  his  character,  i.  164. 

PEDOBAPTISTS  ;  their  right  to  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  regenerated  persons, 
i.  313,  324.  Their  mistake  on  the  subject  of  baptism  no  bar  to  communion, 
308,  312,  326.  Their  societies  shown  to  be  true  churches,  332,  333.  Their 
exclusion  from  the  Lord's  table  by  the  strict  Baptists  considered  as  a  punish- 
ment, 337-341,  476^81.  Their  hostility  to  Baptist  principles  greatly  strength- 
ened by  the  practice  of  strict  communion,  355-359,  502.  Injustice  of  that 
practice  with  regard  to  them,  409.  Exposure  of  Mr.  Kinghorn's  appeal  to  their 
peculiar  principles,  in  support  of  strict  communion,  452^56.  Views  enter- 
tained by  them  of  the  conduct  of  Baptists  in  refusing  to  baptize  infants,  456, 
457.  The  principle  of  strict  communion  shown  to  deprive  them  of  the  New 
Testament  as  a  rule  of  faith  and  manners,  468^70.  Not  recognised  as  Chris- 
tians by  the  advocates  of  that  practice,  473. 

PERJURY  ;  forbidden  by  the  third  commandment,  iii.  169.  Its  deep  criminality, 
170.     Prevalence  of  the  sin  in  this  country,  ib. 

PERSECUTION  ;  coincident  with  Hobbism,  ii.  188.  Its  inefficacy,  ib.  De- 
stroys respect  for  the  laws,  192.  Foments  a  spirit  of  division,  193.  Always 
punished  by  God,  iii.  183. 

PERSONIFICATION  ;  how  used,  as  a  figure  of  rhetoric  or  poetry,  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, iii.  47,  51. 

PHILOSOPHY  ;  contrasted  with  poetry,  ii.  354,  355,  Its  objects  and  limits, 
iii.  42,  43.  Difficulties  attending  its  researches,  313.  Its  astonishing  progress 
during  the  last  century,  417. 

PHYSICIAN,  the  ;  sources  whence  he  derives  remedies  for  disease,  ii.  485. 
Benevolent  object  and  spirit  of  his  art,  ib. 

PITT,  Mr. ;  his  political  character,  ii.  42,  50.  Disastrous  effects  of  his  admin- 
istration, 105. 

PLACES  OF  WORSHIP;  increasing  necessity  for  their  erection,  iii.  163. 

PLATO  ;  Mr.  Hall's  strong  attachment  to  his  writings,  iii.  (Mem.)  31. 

PLINY  ;  his  testimony  to  the  extensive  spread  of  Christianity,  iii.  513. 

POETRY  ;  contrasted  with  philosophy,  ii.  354,  355.  Reasons  for  the  excellence 
of  the  poetry  of  uncivilized  nations,  355.  Poetical  genius  influenced  by  the 
imagination  and  the  passions,  356,  357. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY;  its  principles,  ii.  140. 

POLITICS  ;  not  usually  much  studied  by  pious  men,  ii.  173. 

POOR,  the;  affliction  peculiarly  felt  by  them,  i.  71,  73.  Duty  and  pleasure  of 
relieving  their  wants,  74,  75.  Their  degraded  state  in  England,  ii.  89.  Con- 
sequences to  be  anticipated  from  an  undue  depression  of  the  lower  orders,  131. 
Importance  of  hospitals  for  the  sick  poor,  487.  Dependence  of  the  rich  on  the 
labours  of  the  poor,  iii.  513,  514.  Dependence  of  the  poor  on  the  rich,  514. 
Points  of  agreement  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  509-521.  Duties  of  Chris- 
tians who  are  poor,  521. 

POPERY ;  altered  state  of  feeling  respecting  it  in  England,  ii.  335,  359. 
Causes  of  that  alteration,  336,  337.  Hostility  of  popery  to  evangelical  piety, 
337.     Worldly  character  of  the  papal  system,  339.     Activity  of  papists  at  the 


540  INDEX. 

present  time,  335,  359.  Absurdity  of  supposing  any  change  in  popery,  359, 
360.  Papal  infallibility  sanctioned  by  general  councils,  860-362.  No  reason 
to  believe  that  the  intolerant  principles  of  popery  are  renounced,  363.  Ex- 
amination of  the  arguments  usually  employed  in  defence  of  the  infallibility 
of  the  Romish  church,  364—366.  Remarks  on  the  obscurity  of  Scripture 
as  alleged  by  Roman  Catholics,  366-368.  Their  hostility  to  the  free  circula- 
tion of  the  Scriptures,  433,  434.  The  papal  system  shown  to  be  idolatrous, 
iii.  299. 

POWER  ;  shown  to  be  derived  from  mind,  iii.  296-298.  Connexion  of  the 
power  of  God  with  his  spirituality,  297. 

PRAYER;  its  peculiar  necessity  in  connexion  with  missionary  labour,  i.  159. 
iii.  407.  How  affected  by  Socinian  sentiment,  33.  Advantages  derived  from 
praying  for  others,  186.  Importance  of  addressing  prayer  directly  to  the  Lord 
Jfesus  Christ,  263.     Observations  on  public  prayer,  (Obs.)  97-99. 

PREACHING  ;  its  origin,  i.  249.  The  wisdom  of  its  institution,  ib.  The 
appointed  means  of  conveying  spiritual  good,  250.  Serious  attention  which  it 
deserves,  251.  Importance  of  adhering  to  the  dictates  of  Scripture,  476. 
Vague  and  indistinct  preaching  condemned,  477.  Due  proportion  to  be 
observed  in  treating  of  doctrinal  and  practical  subjects,  477,  478.  The 
unequal  effects  of  preaching  accounted  for,  iii.  235.  Improved  state  of 
preaching  within  the  last  fifty  years,  419.  Importance  of  employing  argument 
in  sermons  without  using  the  forms  of  reasoning,  (Obs.)  102.  Desirableness 
of  preaching  so  as  to  discriminate  and  individualize  character,  113,  114,  116. 

PRICE,  Dr.,  ii.  36,  100. 

PRICES  ;  design  of  many  legislative  enactments  to  create  an  artificial  elevation, 
ii.  126.     Application  of  this  principle  to  the  Framework  Knitters'  fund,  ib. 

PRIDE  ;  the  most  unsocial  of  the  passions,  i.  32.  Its  misanthropy  and  selfish- 
ness, 33.  Its  deleterious  influence,  33,  34.  Religion  the  only  antidote  to 
pride,  35.  Therefore  hated  by  infidels,  36.  Modern  innovation  in  the  use  of 
the   word  "pride,"  101. 

PRIESTLEY,  Dr.  ;  eulogium  on  him,  ii.  23, 100.  His  political  publications,  24. 
Anecdote  of  him,  iii.  30.     His  remark  on  repentance,  34. 

PRINCESS  CHARLOTTE;  affecting  circumstances  of  her  death,  i.  182,186- 
188,  200.     Impressions  produced  by  her  removal,  197. 

PROFANENESS  ;  general  prevalence  of  this  vice,  i.  103. 

PROFESSION,  Christian ;  its  holy  character,  iii.  102.  Profession  of  Christ 
essential  to  salvation,  i.  413.     An  early  Christian  profession  urged,  iii.  485. 

PROPHECY  ;  its  comparative  obscurity,  i.  378.  Wisdom  of  this  arrangement, 
iii.  330,  331. 

"  PROTESTANT,"  the  ;  character  of  that  work,  ii.  324. 

PROTESTANTISM  ;  mixed  communion  proved  to  be  consistent  with  its  prin- 
ciples, i.  448-450. 

PROVIDENCE  ;  its  dispensations  to  be  observed,  i.  179.  The  harmony  of  those 
dispensations  with  Scripture,  180,  181.  Adaptation  of  their  instructions  to  our 
character  and  state,  181.  Importance  of  the  doctrine  of  a  particular  providence, 
ii.  313.  Its  dispensations  frequently  mysterious,  iii.  313,  364.  Their  design 
often  concealed,  314.  That  concealment  chiefly  occasioned  by  the  obscurity  in 
which  the  future  is  enveloped,  314-316. 

PUBLIC  OPINION  ;  its  value  and  influence,  i.  88. 

PUNISHMENT  ;  the  fear  of  it  an  habitual  restraint  on  human  conduct,  ii.  205. 
Impossibility  of  accomplishing  this  end  when  the  equity  of  the  punishment  is 
not  seen,  206. 

PURITANS  ;  their  zeal  for  freedom,  ii.  18.  Hinge  of  the  controversy  between 
them  and  their  opponents,  254 

REDEMPTION  ;  how  effected  by  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  iii.  .500.  The  glory 
of  the  Divine  character  displayed  therein,  501.  Its  extent,  li.  (il/em.)  76.  Its 
efficacy,  as  resulting  from  the  wondrous  constitution  of  the  Saviour's  person, 
iii.  502. 

REFORM  ;  necessary  to  the  political  safety  of  the  country,  ii.  47,  84.     Reasons 


INDEX.  541 

for  that  necessity,  61,87-89.  Principle  on  which  it  should  rest,  62.  Exten- 
sion of  the  suffrage,  ib.  Annual  parliaments,  ib.  Influence  of  the  peers,  65, 
Exposure  of  the  pretences  usually  alleged  for  delay,  66-68.  Explanation  of  the 
term  "radical  reform,"  100. 

REFORMATION,  the  ;  its  influence  in  destroying  the  authority  of  Aristotle, 
iii.  416. 

REGENERATION;  its  cause  the  will  of  God,  iii.  65.  Its  instrument  the 
word  of  truth,  66.  Its  end  dedication  to  God,  67-70.  Manner  in  which  it 
should  be  preached,  ii.  478. 

RELIGION ;  its  value  and  importance,  i.  49.  Its  influence  on  the  welfare 
of  nations,  69,  70,  ii.  174.  Eminent  religion  reverenced  by  men  in  general, 
i.  216.  Obedience  to  the  laws  promoted  by  religion,  ii.  174,  175.  Human 
depravity  shown  to  be  the  chief  cause  of  the  aversion  to  evangelical  religion, 
242  ;  that  aversion  strengthened  by  the  too  frequent  use  of  technical  phraseology, 
243.  Distaste  of  religion  manifested  by  fine  writers,  246,  247.  Propriety  and 
reasonableness  of  intense  feeling  on  religious  subjects,  455.  Dignity  of  rehgion, 
iii.  69,  70,  234. 

RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY  ;  its  advancement  in  modem  times,  iii.  421.  Its  con- 
nexion with  political  freedom,  422. 

REPENTANCE  ;  its  personal  character  insisted  on,  i.  91,  104,  105.  Who 
those  are  who  need  no  repentance,  iii.  467.  Its  necessity,  472.  Joy  with  which 
the  repentance  of  a  sinner  is  contemplated  by  angelic  beings,  468-471.  Hap- 
piness of  a  penitent  described,  474. 

RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST  ;  commemorated  on  the  Lord's  day,  iii.  193  ; 
the  purchase  of  our  redemption  completed  by  it,  ib.  The  character  of  Christ 
vindicated,  193,  194.  Signal  triumph  obtained  over  his  enemies,  194;  ever- 
lasting victory  gained  over  death,  195.  Sure  prospect  of  heaven  afforded  to  all 
believers,  ib. 

RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD  ;  illustrated  by  analogies  from  the  world 
of  nature,  ii.  314.     A  mysterious  doctrine,  iii.  319. 

REVIEWING  ;  remarks  on,  iii.  254,  267,  275. 

REWARDS  ;  heaven  described  as  the  reward  of  the  pious,  iii.  164.  On  what 
accounts  it  is  so  designated,  165.  Certainty  of  its  bestowment,  165-167.  Its 
satisfying  nature,  167.     Its  eternal  duration,  168. 

RICH,  the  ;  their  dependence  on  the  labour  of  the  poor,  iii.  513,514.  Dependence 
of  the  poor  on  the  rich,  514.  Duties  of  Christians  who  are  rich,  519-521. 
Points  of  agreement  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  509-521. 

RICHES  ;  mistake  of  those  who  suppose  that  riches  are  infallibly  connected  with 
happiness,  iii.  382,  383.  Criminality  of  using  riches  merely  for  luxury  and 
display,  519. 

RIGHTS  OF  MAN  ;  defined,  ii.  69.  How  far  they  are  surrendered  in  a  state 
of  society,  70.  Absurdity  of  supposing  them  to  be  entirely  given  up,  71. 
Opinions  of  Mr.  Locke,  72. 

ROBINS,  Rev.  Mr.,  tutor  at  Daventry ;  sketch  of  his  character,  ii.  390. 

ROBINSON,  Rev.  R.;  interview  between  him  and  Mr.  Hall,  iii.  (Mem.)  16. 
Sketch  of  his  character  as  a  minister,  20. 

ROBINSON,  Rev.  T. ;  his  self-denial  and  devotedness  to  the  interests  of  benevo- 
lence  and  piety,   ii.   380,  381.     Success  of  his  ministerial  labours,  381,  382. 
Beneficial    influence   of  his   example    and    effects    on   the   state    of  the    town 
of  Leicester,   382,   383.     Veneration   in  which  he  was  held,   383.     His  uni- 
formity of  conduct,  384.     General   sketch  of  his  character,  384,  385.     Mag- 
nitude of  the  loss  sustained  by  his  death,  386,  387.     Holy  tendency  of  his 
ministry,  387. 
"ROMANTIC  ;"  improper  application  of  the  term,  ii.  240-242. 
RYLAND,  Rev.  J. ;  his  character  as  a  public  instructer,  iii.  {Mem.)  5. 
RYLAND,  Dr.  ;  sketch  of  his  history,  i.  213.     His  religious  character,  214-318, 
ilL  278.     His  imperfections  noticed,  i.  218-220.     His  letter  to  Mr.  Hall  respect- 
ing his  religious  opinions,  iii.  {Mem.)  14.     His  literary  attainments,  i.  220.     His 
love  of  natural  history,  220.     His  attachment  to  theological  inquiries,  th.     High 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held,  221-223.     Effects  produced  on  his  rehgious 


642  INDEX. 

character  by  the  study  of  the  American  divines,  ii.  416,  417.     Remarks  on  his 
Life  of  Mr.  Fuller,  iii.  244. 

SADDUCEES,  i.  39  {note). 

SATAN  ;  his  personality  and  real  existence,  iii.  33.  Argued  from  probability, 
41,  43.  The  Scripture  doctrine  stated,  43,  44.  Accordance  of  the  doctrine 
with  the  moral  state  of  man,  45.  Answer  to  an  objection,  46.  Uniformity 
of  statement  adopted  by  all  the  inspired  writers,  47.  Refutation  of  the  hypo- 
thesis of  those  who  maintain  that  the  word  is  used  as  a  personification  of  the 
principle  of  evil,  47-51. 

SCHISM,  i.  333,  ii.  220.  Strict  communion  chargeable  with  it,  i.  334,  ii.  221, 
222. 

SCHOOLMEN,  the  ;  subjects  discussed  by  them,  ii.  233.  Use  of  their  writings, 
234. 

SCHWARTZ,  the  missionary,  ii.  1 10. 

SCOTT,  Mr.  J. ;  his  sketch  of  Mr.  Hall's  character  as  a  preacher,  iii.  {Mem,) 
87,  88. 

SCOTT,  Rev.  T. ;  his  answer  to  Bishop  Tomline,  iii.  245. 

SCRIPTURE  ;  discovery  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ,  its  distinguishing  feature, 
i,  122,  123.  Supplies  an  infallible  rule  of  life,  123.  Its  harmony  with  the  di«- 
pensations  of  Providence,  180,  181.  The  alleged  obscurity  of  Scripture,  as 
maintained  by  Roman  Catholics,  ii.  366-368.  Adoption  of  the  argument  by 
the  opponents  of  the  Bible  Society  exposed,  421—423.  All  that  is  important 
to  our  welfare  plainly  taught  in  Scripture,  iii.  328-331.  Universality  of  the 
right  to  read  the  Scriptures,  ii.  429-432,  436.  Origin  of  the  restrictive  policj', 
432.  Improbability  of  danger  from  placing  the  Scriptures  in  the  hands  of 
the  people,  433-435.  Partial  and  defective  views  of  Scripture  productive  of 
error,  437,  438.  Admirable  adaptation  of  the  Word  of  God  to  the  condition 
of  the  poor,  438,  439.  Authoritative  character  of  its  moral  precepts,  439. 
Employed  by  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  instrument  of  regeneration,  iii.  66. 
Peculiarity  of  revelation  as  a  statement  of  facts,  iii.  317.  Authority  of  Scripture 
impaired  by  the  Church  of  Rome,  420.  Manner  in  which  it  should  be  studied, 
461. 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE  ;  its  importance  in  religion,  iii.  151,  152. 

SENSIBILITY  ;  distinguished  from  benevolence,  i.  74. 

SENSUALITY ;  encouraged  by  infidel  principles,  i.  40.  Religion  its  only 
antidote,  ib.  Sensual  gratifications  incapable  of  producing  happiness,  iii. 
382,  383. 

SEPTENNIAL  ACT  ;  its  inconveniences,  ii.  63. 

SERAMPORE  MISSIONARIES ;  unreasonableness  of  their  demands  on  the 
committee  of  the  Baptist  Missionary  Society,  ii.  444-446.  Mr.  Foster's  letter 
in  their  defence,  iii.  {Obs.)  125,  126. 

SIDMOUTH,  Lord;  the  bill  introduced  by  him  into  parliament  in  1811,  ii. 
172. 

SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES  ;  advantages  of  observing  them,  iii.  414.  Signs  of 
the  present  times  enumerated,  415^21. 

SLAVERY  ;  degradation  of  the  state,  ii.  159.  Oppressive  character  of  West 
India  slavery,  159-163.  Shocking  instance  of  cruelty  to  a  slave,  160  {note). 
Estimated  number  of  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  and  the  United  States,  159 
(note).  Iniquity  of  the  system,  162.  Objection  answered,  ib.  Aversion  of 
the  planters  to  the  communication  of  religious  instruction,  163.  Injurious 
influence  of  slavery  on  the  m.oral  principles  of  slave-holders,  ib.  Injustice 
of  slavery,  164.  Gradual  emancipation  recommended,  165.  Cost  at  which 
the  present  system  is  maintained,  (7*.  Comparison  of  slave-labour  with  free 
labour,  166.     Motives  to  exertion  in  the  cause  of  emancipation,  166-168. 

SLAVE-TRADE,  i.  104. 

SMITH,  Dr.  J.  P. ;  his  "  Scripture  Testimony  to  the  Messiah"  commended,  iii. 
287,  {Mem.)  76. 

SOCIETY  ;  inequality  of  rank  in  society  wisely  ordered,  i.  185,  iii.  515.  Dan- 
gers connected  with  exposure  to  infidel  or  vicious  society,  iii.  480-483. 


INDEX.  543 

SOCINIANISM  ;  its  spirit  described,  iii.  24.  Its  tendency,  28.  Characterized 
as  a  system  of  negations,  28,  29.  Its  affinity  with  Deism,  29-32,  349.  Its 
anti-devotional  character,  32,  33.  Its  association  with  materialism  and  fatalism, 
34,  35.     Its  declining  state  in  England,  ii.  325-327. 

SOCINIANS  ;  propriety  of  the  appellation,  ii.  315-317.  Supposed  connexion 
of  their  principles  with  the  love  of  freedom,  30-32.  Their  salvability  disproved, 
iii.  250,  263.  Strictures  on  the  union  of  orthodox  and  Socinian  ministers  in 
London,  291. 

SOCRATES  ;  his  modesty,  iii.  313. 

SOLON  ;  singular  law  enacted  by  him,  ii.  51. 

"  SPIRIT  ;"  various  uses  of  the  word  in  Scripture,  iii.  22. 

SPIRIT,  HOLY  ;  his  personality,  iii.  21,  22.  Necessity  for  his  influence, 
i.  125,  iii.  400-^04.  Promise  of  that  influence,  i.  146-148.  Importance  of 
duly  estimating  it,  235.  Excellence  and  dignity  of  the  gift,  236,  237.  Spiritual 
life  wholly  dependent  upon  it,  237,  238.  Its  communication  to  be  sought  by 
prayer,  238,  239.  Habitual  dependence  urged,  239,  240.  Nature  and  causes 
of  Divine  withdrawment,  240.  Holiness  essential  to  the  enjoyment  of  Divine 
influence,  240-242.  Desirableness  of  watching  such  circumstances  as  are 
favourable  to  its  manifestation,  243,  244.  Dignity  of  the  Christian,  as  a 
temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  245.  Remarks  on  the  mysteriousne^s  of  his  in- 
fluence, iii.  318,  319.  Want  of  Christian  zeal  in  those  who  deny  the  doctrine, 
404.  Reasons  why  we  are  sometimes  in  danger  of  forgetting  it,  405,  406. 
The  sin  of  grieving  the  Holy  Spirit,  408.  Abundant  manifestation  of  his  in- 
fluence yet  to  be  expected,  411,  412. 

SPIRITUALITY  OF  GOD  ;  its  connexion  with  his  natural  attributes,  iii. 
296-303.  Establishes  an  intimate  relation  between  God  and  his  intelligent 
creatures,  303.  Constitutes  him  the  Supreme  Good,  and  the  source  of  all  hap- 
piness, 304-307. 

STAEL,  Madame  de,  iii.  (Mem.)  81. 

STATE  OF  RELIGION  in  Great  Britain,  before  the  last  war,  i.  91,  94-101. 

STEPNEY  ACADEMY,  i.  132,  133.  Theological  principles  on  which  it  was 
founded,  ii.  443.     Advantages  of  its  situation,  ib. 

STERNE,  i.  74. 

STEWART,  Dugald  ;  character  of  his  writings  and  style,  iii.  (Mem.)  80. 

STRICT  BAPTISTS  ;  the  only  class  who  contend  for  the  exclusion  of  Chris- 
tians from  the  Lord's  table,  i.  320.  Their  inconsistency  argued,  in  holding 
communion  with  Pedobaptists  in  every  thing  but  the  Lord's  Supper,  336-338, 
411,  428,  429,  ii.  173,  179  ;  in  not  charging  the  Pedobaptists  with  criminality 
for  observing  the  Lord's  Supper,  i.  343,  344;  in  not  treating  them  as  the  apos- 
tles would  have  treated  unbaptized  persons,  410,  411,  430,  431  ;  in  admitting 
their  salvability,  414-416,  431,  432  ;  and  in  regarding  them  as  Christians  while 
destitute  of  the  supposed  evidence  of  faith,  421. 

STRICT  COMMUNION;  its  principles  stated,  i.  292.  Its  unfavourable  in- 
fluence on  the  prosperity  of  the  Baptist  denomination,  285,  503.  Examination 
of  the  argument  from  the  supposed  priority  of  baptism  to  the  Lord's  Supper, 
293-304 ;  from  the  apostolic  commission,  304-306,  406  ;  from  the  connexion 
between  circumcision  and  the  passover,  306-308,  313,  314  ;  from  apostolic 
precedent,  311,  312,  407,  409,410,  ii.  216-218;  from  antiquity,  i.  316-321, 
481,  484-487.  Opposed  to  brotherly  love,  322-324.  Chargeable  with  the 
guilt  of  schism,  333,  334,  ii.  220-222.  Operates  as  a  punishment  with  regard 
to  Pedobaptists,  i.  337-341,  474-481.  Contrary  to  the  Scripture  doctrine  of 
forbearance,  324-328.  Its  impolicy,  355-358,  ii.  226-228.  Resemblance  to 
the  intolerant  principles  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  i.  358,  451.  Implies  a  claim 
to  infallibility,  408,  450,  451.  Its  coincidence  with  the  opus  opcratum  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  433-435.  Produces  interminable  discord  and  confusion,  468— 
468.  Renders  the  New  Testament  inapplicable  to  Pedobaptists,  46S-470.  Is 
incompatible  with  the  unity  of  the  church,  490-492.  Answer  to  the  assertion 
that  it  is  founded  on  the  principle  of  defending  one  neglected  truth,  496-498. 
Dependence  of  the  practice  on  human  authority,  469,  470,  475,  476.  Its  un- 
favourable effects  on  the  minds  of  its  advocates,  487. 


544  INDEX. 

STUART,  Professor,  of  Andover,  U.  S.  ;  character  of  his  "  Exegetical  Essays," 
&c.,  iii.  359  (note). 

SUBSTITUTION  of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  a  doctrine  peculiar  to  revela- 
tion, i.  267.  Fitness  of  the  substitution  of  Christ,  266-280.  Moral  tendencies 
of  the  doctrine,  281-283. 

SUNDAY-SCHOOLS  ;  seriousness  with  which  reHgious  instruction  should  be 
communicated  in  them,  i.  125,  126.  Proposed  by  Bishop  Horsley  to  be  placed 
under  the  control  of  the  clergy,  ii.  175. 

SUPERSTITION ;  a  much  greater  evil  than  enthusiasm,  ii.  185. 

SUTCLIFF,  Rev.  J.  ;  his  eminent  humility,  ii.  388.  His  steady  and  cheerful 
piety,  lb.  His  concern  for  the  prosperity  of  the  churches,  389.  General  esteem 
in  which  he  was  held,  ib. 

SYNAGOGUES  ;  their  origin  and  advantages,  iii.  160.  Resemblance  between 
them  and  Christian  places  of  worship,  161.  Government  of  the  synagogues 
supposed  to  be  the  model  from  which  Christian  churches  are  formed,  162. 

TECHNICAL  TERMS  ;  their  origin,  ii.  244.  Their  excessive  use  in  religious 
works  deprecated,  243.  Advice  respecting  the  most  proper  course  to  be  adopted, 
245,  246. 

TEMPLE  ;  none  in  heaven,  iii.  38.  Diiference  between  the  Jewish  temple  and 
the  synagogues,  161.  Contrast  between  its  services  and  the  employments  of 
the  blessed  in  heaven,  200-202. 

TERTULLIAN  ;  his  views  of  baptism,  i.  318.  On  the  unity  of  the  church, 
489.  His  statement  of  the  extensive  prevalence  of  Christianity,  iii.  513 
{note). 

TEST  ACT  ;  its  inefficiency  and  iniquity,  ii.  32-35. 

TILLOTSON,  Archbishop  ;  character  of  his  works,  ii.  293. 

TIME  ;  difference  of  the  manner  in  which  it  is  apprehended  by  God  and  by  man, 
iii.  190-193.  The  impression  of  its  progress  diminished  by  happiness,  increased 
by  misery,  191. 

TOLERATION  ;  grounds  on  which  it  should  be  jnutually  exercised  by  Chris- 
tians, i.  326.  Application  of  the  principles  to  the  case  of  the  Baptists  and 
Pedobaptists,  327,  328,  457,  459,  460.  Explanatory  remarks,  344,  346,  348. 
Distinction  between  tolerating  and  practising,  443,  444.  Instances  in  which 
toleration  has  been  exercised  in  regard  to  the  neglect  of  the  plain  commands 
of  Christ,  465,  466.  Toleration  considered  as  implying  freedom  of  com- 
munication as  well  as  fi-eedom  of  thought,  ii.  117.  The  denial  of  such  freedom 
chargeable  with  the  guilt  of  persecution,  ib.  The  happy  influence  of  toleration 
on  the  state  of  this  country,  185.  Impolicy  of  attempting  to  interfere  with  it, 
186,  187. 

TOLLER,  Rev.  T. ;  his  birth  and  parentage,  ii.  390.  His  early  conversion,  ib. 
Enters  the  academy  at  Daventry,  ib.  Visits  Kettering,  391.  Becomes  pastor 
of  the  independent  church  there,  392.  Favourable  influence  of  the  piety  of 
the  congregation  in  forming  his  own  character,  ib.  His  ministerial  qualifica- 
tions and  labours,  393,  394.  His  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Hall,  394,  395, 
Unsuccessful  attempts  to  remove  him  from  Kettering  to  London,  396,  397. 
Remarks  on  the  low  state  of  the  church,  compared  with  the  congregation,  396. 
Ardour  with  which  Mr.  Toller  engaged  in  the  cause  of  the  Bible  Society,  397. 
His  peculiar  opinions  on  missionary  operations,  398.  Beneficial  effects  of  an 
illness,  ib.  His  love  of  natural  scenery,  399.  His  admirable  talent  for  expound- 
ing Scripture,  400.  His  eminence  in  public  prayer,  401.  Notice  of  a  defect  in 
his  preaching,  ib.  His  last  illness  and  death,  402,  403.  His  style  of  composi- 
tion described,  403.  Sketch  of  his  character,  404—406.  Comparison  between 
Mr.  Fuller  and  Mr.  Toller,  406,  407. 

TRINITY,  the,  i.  373,  iii.  271.     Practical  influence  of  the  doctrine,  318. 

TRUST  IN  GOD,  iii.  323.  Reasons  why  it  should  be  implicit  and  entire, 
324. 

TRUTH  ;  legitimate  means  of  maintaining  and  defending  it,  i.  452. 

TUCKER,  Abraham  ;  Mr.  Hall's  opinion  of  his  "  Light  of  Nature,"  iii.  (Mem.) 
33. 


INDEX.  545 

UNION  of  Christians  ;  urged  by  the  prevalence  of  infidehty,  i.  18.  Its  desirable- 
ness, 131.  Importance  of  it,  289.  Its  manifestation  in  the  primitive  ages, 
322,  335.  Grounds  on  which  separation  is  justifiable,  335.  Increase  of  the 
spirit  of  union  in  modern  times,  iii.  420. 

VANITY.     See  Pride. 

VANITY  OF  MAN  ;  apart  from  his  immortality  considered,  iii.  380-387. 

VILLAGE  PREACHING  ;  charged  with  a  political  object  by  Bishop  Horsley, 
ii.  171.  The  charge  repelled,  173-175.  Answer  to  the  insinuation  that  village 
preachers  vilify  the  established  clergy,  179-184.  Vindication  of  their  labours 
from  the  charge  of  fanaticism,  184,  185.  Abstinence  from  political  reflections; 
recommended,  194.  Importance  of  inculcating  the  duties  of  Christianity,  in 
connexion  with  its  doctrines,  urged,  194,  195.  Direct  appeal  to  the  con- 
sciences of  men  advised,  195,  196. 

VIRGIL  ;  character  of  his  writings,  iii.  (Mem.)  66. 

VIRTUE ;  incapable  of  being  sustained  by  infidelity,  i.  26,  27.  Remarks  on 
President  Edwards's  definition,  43  {note). 

WAGES  ;  their  decline  should  always  be  proportioned  to  the  actual  deficiency  in 

the  demand  for  labour,  ii.  139.     Injustice  of  lowering  them  beyond  that  pro- 
portion, ib.     Propriety  of  endeavouring  to  raise  them  by  voluntary  associations 

and  funds,  140,  141. 
WALDENSES  ;  their  sentiments  on  baptism,  i.  482. 
WALPOLE,  Sir  Robert,  ii.  63. 
W^AR ;  the  most  awful  scourge  of  Providence,  i.  59.     The  horrible  waste  of 

human  life  which  it  occasions,  60,  61.     Miseries  endured  in  an  invasion,  61. 

EflTects  of  war  on  the  general  prosperity  of  a  country,  62.     War  founded  in 

injustice,  63.     Its  anti-moral  tendencies  and  effects,  64,  65.     Peculiar  character 

of  the  war  of  the  French  revolution,  66-68. 
WARFARE,  CHRISTIAN ;  its  character,  iii.  104-106.     Compared  with  the 

wars  of  Israel  with  the  Canaanites,  108-111. 
WESLEY,  Rev.  John,  iii.  217,  {Mem.)  82. 
WHITFIELD,  Rev.  G.,  ii.  288,  iii.  {Mem.)  82. 
WICKED,  the  ;  the  ends  answered  by  their  destruction,  iii.  58.     Their  temporary 

prosperity,  112. 
WILBERFORCE,  W.,  Esq. ;  character  of  his  work  on  "  Practical  Christianity," 

i.  96. 
WILLIAMS,  J.  B.,  Esq. ;  remarks  on  his  edition  of  the  Life  of  Philip  Henry,  iii. 

277. 
WISDOM  ;  distinguished  from  knowledge,  iii.  121,  122.     Importance  of  spiritual 

wisdom,  123-125. 
WORLD,  the ;  comparison  of  the  state  and  hopes  of  its  votaries  with  those  of 

the  Christian,  i.  194-196.     The  world  compared  to  a  wilderness,  iii.  373,  374. 

Moral  disorder  of  the  world,  380.     Renunciation  of  the  world  an  essential  part 

of  the  Christian  profession,  103. 
WORSHIP  ;  defined,  ii.  156.     Not  to  be  controlled  by  the  will  of  the  magistrate, 

ib.     The  claims  of  God  upon  man  in  this  respect  prior  to  all  human  laws, 

197.  The  right  to  worship  not  resigned  on  entering  into  civil  society,  ib.  No 
danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  universal  acknowledgment  of  that  right, 

198.  Answer  to  the  objection,  that  fanaticism  will  be  encouraged  thereby, 
195-199.  Public  worship  greatly  neglected  in  this  country,  i.  102.  Its  im- 
portance, iii.  53. 

XAVIER  ;  anecdote  of  him,  iii.  420. 

YOUNG,  the  ;  their  danger  when  exposed  to  infidel  or  impure  associates,  iii. 
480^83.     Urged  to  separate  themselves  from  such  connexions,  4S5-487. 

"  ZEAL  WITHOUT  INNOVATION ;"  review  of,  ii.  254-289.  Professed 
object  of  the  publication,  256.  Its  party  spirit  and  bigotry,  257.  Lamenta- 
VOL.  III. — M  M 


546  INDEX. 

lions  of  the  author  over  the  success  of  the  dissenters,  257,  258.  Tendency 
of  his  sentiments  to  produce  pride  and  intolerance,  259,  260.  Increase  of 
the  dissenters  owing  to  their  superior  piety  and  zeal,  260.  InefKcacy  of 
creeds  and  confessions  to  perpetuate  religious  belief,  261,  262.  Answer  to 
the  charge  that  dissenting  principles  tend  to  democracy,  263,  264.  Absurdity 
of  supposing  that  real  religion  would  be  promoted  by  the  destruction  of  dissent, 
264—266.  Union  among  Christians  only  to  be  attained  through  the  increasing 
prevalence  of  genuine  piety,  266,  267.  The  author's  gloomy  picture  of  the 
state  of  religion  in  the  established  church,  268.  The  true  reasons  of  that 
declension  assigned,  269.  Exposure  of  the  writer's  ignorance  and  inaccuracy, 
269,  270.  Gradual  decline  of  evangelical  preaching  in  the  Church  of  England, 
271,  272.  Its  revival  through  the  labours  of  Whitfield  and  AVesley,  272. 
Virulent  opposition  of  the  clergy  in  general,  272-274.  Sentiments  and  labours 
of  the  evangelical  clergy  described,  274—278.  Answer  to  the  charge  of  enthu- 
siasm brought  against  them,  279.  Their  attachment  to  the  established  church, 
280.  Unpopularity  of  the  other  clergy,  280,  281.  Defence  of  the  method  of 
preaching  adopted  by  the  evangelical  clergy,  282-284.  Malignant  spirit  of  the 
author  exposed,  285.  Injurious  tendency  of  his  censures,  286.  His  partiality, 
ib.  Unhappy  effects  of  the  needless  exposure  of  the  supposed  failings  or  errors 
of  good  men,  287.  True  character  of  Whitfield  and  his  coadjutors,  288,  289. 
Danger  of  excluding  evangelical  ministers  from  the  established  church,  289. 
General  character  of  the  work,  iii.  233. 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


PAGE 

P.iGE 

Gen.  vi.  26 

Vol.  iii,    54 

John  iv,  1 

. 

Vol 

.    i. 

360-362 

vi,  11 

. 

iii.    51-56 

v.  42 

. 

. 

iii. 

459-466 

Exod.  iii.  14 

- 

iii.    13-16 

viii.  44 

- 

- 

iii. 

50 

XX.  7 

- 

iii.  168-174 

xxi.  7 

. 

. 

i 

205-224 

Levit.  xiii.  45 

. 

iii.    93-101 

Acts  X. 

. 

. 

i. 

432 

Num.  xxi.  4 

- 

iii.  372-380 

xi.  26 

. 

. 

iii. 

174-180 

Deut.  vi.  6,  7       - 

- 

iii.  114 

xiii.  25 

. 

. 

iii. 

332-340 

Josh.  V.  13-15     - 

- 

iii.  106-112 

( 

299,  300 

2  Sam.  vii.  16,  17 

. 

iii.  444-451 

xix.  1-5 

. 

. 

i-  <^ 

370 

1  Chron.  xvi.  43 

. 

iii.  130-137 

! 

i 

386, 387 

Job  ii.  4 

. 

iii.  423-428 

xxvi.  9-18 

. 

iii. 

78-84 

Psalm  xix.  7 

. 

iii.  24,28-35 

Rom.  viii.  12 

. 

. 

iii. 

59-64 

xxxvii.  31 

. 

iii.  112-116 

xiii. 

. 

. 

ii. 

26-31 

xlvi.  8,  9    - 

. 

i.    59-75 

xiv.  1-5  ; 

XV. 

■'■{ 

32.5-327 

Ixxxix.  47 

. 

iii.  380-387 

1,  6,  7 

462-464 

xciv.  19     - 

- 

iii.  145-148 

1  Cor.  XV.  3 

. 

. 

iii. 

22,  23 

xcvii.  2 

- 

iii.  363-371 

26 

- 

. 

iii. 

387-398 

cxviii.  24  - 

- 

iii.  193-196 

33 

. 

. 

iii. 

47.5-487 

cxlv.  11      - 

...    (    88-92 
"'•  i  353-362 

2  Cor.  iv.  1 

- 

. 

i. 

135-155 

" 

vi.  13 

. 

. 

iii. 

452-458 

Prov.  xix.  2 

- 

i.  117-126 

Gal.  i.  15,  16 

. 

. 

iii. 

74-78 

xxii.  2 

. 

iii.  509-521 

iv.  4,  5 

. 

. 

iii. 

494-.509 

XXV.  2 

- 

iii.  310-331 

Ephes.  ii.  1 

. 

. 

iii. 

70-73 

Eccles.  xi.  8 

- 

iii.  137-142 

12 

. 

. 

i. 

23-52 

Isa.  ii.  18    - 

- 

iii.  487-493 

iv.  5 

. 

. 

i. 

425 

...   (     16-19 
"^-  \  295-310 

vi.  11,  1 

2 

. 

iii. 

49,50 

xxxi.  3 

' 

( 

24-28 

xxxii.  13-15 

- 

iiL  398-413 

Phil.  ii.  5-9 

. 

-        iii.     ^ 

340-353 

liii.  8 

. 

i.  265-282 

i 

497 

Jer.  viii.  6    • 

- 

i.    8.5-111 

iii.  15,  16 

. 

- 

327 

XV.  9    - 

- 

i.  179-201 

Col.  i.  19     - 

. 

- 

449 

XXX.  21 

- 

iii.  125-129 

1  Tim.  ii.  1 

. 

. 

185-188 

xxxi.  18 

. 

iii.  142-145 

15 

. 

, 

496 

Ezek.  xiv.  14 

. 

iii.  187 

V.  21 

. 

- 

37 

XV.  2 

. 

iii.    57-59 

Heb.  i.  1^ 

- 

. 

35-40 

Matt.  iv.  1 

- 

.ii.    22-48 

ix.  8 

. 

. 

381 

V.  12 

. 

iii.  164-168 

X.  36 

- 

. 

154-157 

xii.  36 

- 

iii.  169 

xii.  9 

. 

. 

18 

xvi.  1-3     - 

. 

iii.  414-423 

James  i.  5 

. 

. 

121-125 

xxii.  41,  42 

. 

iii.    19-21 

18 

. 

. 

65-70 

xxviii.  19  - 

. 

iii.    21,22 

iv.  10 

. 

. 

149-1.54 

Luke  vii.  5 

. 

iii.  157-163 

I  Peter  V.  8 

. 

. 

41-51 

xiv.  28 

. 

iii.  101-106 

2  Peter  iii.  8 

. 

- 

189-193 

XV.  7 

. 

iii.  466-474 

1  John  iii.  7,  8 

. 

- 

50 

xvii.  5 

. 

iii.  117-121 

14 

. 

. 

180-185 

xvii.  20 

. 

„  iii.  408 

Rev.  ii.  1     - 

. 

- 

196-198 

xxi.  19 

. 

iii.  150 

V.  6     - 

. 

. 

84-88 

John  i.  35,  36       - 

- 

iii.  428-444 

xxi.  22 

- 

- 

199-203 

VALUABLE     WORKS 

PUBLISHED    BY 

J.  &  J.  HARPER,  No.  82  CLIFF-STREET,  NEW- YORK. 


A  DICTIONARY  OF  THE   HOLY  BIBLE  ;    containing 

an  Historical  and  Geographical  Account  of  the  Persons  and  Places  ;  a  literal,  crit- 
ical, and  systematical  Description  of  other  Objects,  whether  natural,  artificial,  civil, 
religious,  or  military  ;  and  an  Explanation  of  the  Appellative  Terms  mentioned  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  By  the  Rev.  JOHN  BROWN.  From  the  last 
Edinburgh  Edition.     To  which  is  prefixed  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author,  &c. 

EVIDENCE  OF  THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 

RELIGION,  derived  from  the  hteral  Fulfilment  of  PROPHECY;  particularly 
illustrated  by  the  History  of  the  Jews,  and  by  the  Discoveries  of  recent  Travellers. 
By  the  Rev.  ALEXANDER  KEITH.     12mo.    From  the  sixth  Edinburgh  Edition. 

SERMONS  ON  SEVERAL  OCCASIONS.     By  the  Rev. 

JOHN  WESLEY,  M.A.,  sometime  Fellow  of  Lincoln  College,  Oxford.  From 
the  last  London  Edition.  Containing  a  number  of  Sermons  never  before  published 
in  this  Country.     3  vols.  8vo. 

THE  MISCELLANEOUS  WORKS  of  the  Rev.  JOHN 

WESLEY.  Containing  a  Plain  Account  of  Christian  Perfection;  the  Appeals  to 
Men  of  Reason  and  Religion  ;  Principles  of  the  Methodists  ;  Letters,  &c.  In 
3  vols.  8vo. 

THE  WORKS  OF  THE  REV.  ROBERT  HALL.     Com- 

plete.  With  a  brief  Memoir  and  a  Sketch  of  his  literary  Character,  by  the  Right 
Hon.  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  LL.D.,  M.P.  And  a  Sketch  of  his  Character  as  a 
Theologian  and  a  Preacher,  by  the  Rev.  John  Foster.     In  3  vols.  8vo. 

A  CONCORDANCE  to  the  Holy  Sciiptures  of  the  Old  and 

New  Testaments.     By  the  Rev.  JOHN  BROWN,  of  Haddington.     32mo. 

PRESENT  STATE  OF  CHRISTIANITY,  and  of  the  Mis- 

sionary  Establishments  for  its  Propagation  in  all  Parts  of  the  World.  Edited  by 
FREDERIC  SHOBERL.     12mo. 

THE    HISTORY   OF   THE   JEWS.      From  the   earliest 

Period  to  the  present  Time.  By  Rev.  H.  H.  MILMAN.  In  3  vols.  18mo.  [With 
Maps  and  Woodcuts.  J 

THE  LIFE  OF  MOHAMMED,  Founder  of  the  Religion  of 

Islam,  and  of  the  Empire  of  the  Saracens.  By  the  Rev.  GEORGE  BUSH,  A.M. 
[With  a  Plan  of  the  Temple  of  Mecca.]     18mo. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  BIBLE.     Bv  the  Rev.  G.  R. 

GLEIG,  M.A.,  M.R.S.D.,  &c.  &c.     In  2  vols.  18rao.     [With  Maps  of  Palestine 

and  the  Travels  of  St.  Paul.] 

VIEW  OF  ANCIENT  AND  MODEN  EGYPT  ;  with  an 

Outline  of  its  Natural  History.  By  Rev.  M.  RUSSELL,  LL.D.  With  En- 
gravings.    18mo. 

PALESTINE ;  or,  THE  HOLY  LAND.    From  the  earliest 

Period  to  the  present  Time.  By  Rev.  M.  RUSSELL,  LL.D.  18mo.  [With  a 
Map  and  wood  Engravings.] 


5i  WORKS    PUBLISHED    BY    J.    &    J.    HARPER, 

THE  BOOK  OF  NATURE.  By  JOHN  MASON  GOOD, 

M.D.,  F.R.S.,  F.R.S.L.,  Mem.  Am.  Phil.  Soc.  andF.R.S.  of  Philadelphia.  From 
the  last  London  Edition.  To  whieh  is  now  prefixed,  A  Sketch  of  the  Author's 
I  life.     8vo.         . 

THE  LIFE   OF   SIR   ISAAC  NEWTON.    By  DAVID 

BREWSTER,  LL.D.     AVith  a  Portrait.     18mo. 

THE   HISTORY   OF    CHIVALRY    AND    THE   CRU- 

SADES.     By  G.  P.  R.  JAMES,  Esq.     18mo.     [With  a  Plate.] 

THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  INSECTS.   [Withnume- 

rous  Woodcuts.]     18mo. 

ENGLISH   SYNONYMES,  with  copious  Illustrations  and 

Explanations,  drawn  from  the  best  Writers.  A  new  Edition,  enlarged.  By 
GEORGE  CRABB,  M.A.  Author  of  the  Universal  Technological  Dictionary, 
and  the  Universal  Historical  Dictionary.     8vo. 

LETTERS  FROM  THE  iEGEAN.    Bv  JAMES  EMER- 
SON, Esq.    8vo. 

DOMESTIC   DUTIES  ;    or,  Instructions  to  Young  Married 

Ladies,  on  the  Management  of  their  Households,  and  the  Regulation  of  their 
Conduct  in  the  various  Relations  and  Duties  of  Married  Life.  By  Mrs.  W^ILLIAM 
PARKES.     [Third  Edition.]     12mo. 

THE  HISTORICAL  WORKS  OF  THE  REV.  WILLIAM 

ROBERTSON,  D.D.  Complete  Edition.  Including  his  History  of  AMERICA ; 
CHARLES  V. ;  SCOTLAND,  INDIA,  &c.     In  3  vols.  8vo.     [With  Plates,  &c.] 

FAMILY  LIBRARY.     Of  this  work,  which  is  intended  to 

combine  the  two  objects  of  instruction  and  amusement,  comprising  as  much  enter- 
taining matter  as  can  be  given  along  with  useful  knowledge,  several  volumes  are 
already  published. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  MODERN  EUROPE ;  with  a  View 

of  the  Progress  of  Societj-  from  the  Rise  of  the  modem  Kingdoms  to  the  Peace  of 
Paris,  in  1763.  By  WILLIAM  RUSSELL,  LL.D.  And  a  Continuation  of  the 
History  to  the  present  Time.  By  WILLIAM  JONES,  Esq.  With  Annotations 
by  an  American.     In  3  vols.  8vo.     [With  Portraits.] 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  DECLINE  AND  FALL  OF 

THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE.  By  EDWARD  GIBBON,  Esq.  Fifth  American 
from  the  last  London  Edition.  In  4  vols.  8vo.  [With  a  Portrait  of  the  Author, 
and  Maps.] 

LETTERS  ON  DEMONOLOGY  AND  WITCHCRAFT. 

Addressed  to  J.  G.  LOCKHART,  Esq.  By  Sir  WALTER  SCOTT,  Bart. 
[With  a  copperplate  Engraving.]     ISmo. 

XENOPHON.     The  ANABASIS,  translated  bv  EDWARD 

SPELMAN,  Esq.  The  CYROP.flDIA,  translated  by  the  Hon.  ASHLEY 
COOPER.     In  2  vols.  18mo.     [Portrait.] 

SALLUST.     Translated  by  WM.  ROSE,  M.A.     With  Im- 

provements  and  Notes.     [Portrait.]     ISrno. 

THE  ORATIONS  OF  DEMOSTHENES.     Translated  by 

THOMAS  LELAND,  D.D.     In  3  vols.  18mo.     [Portrait.] 


WORKS    PUBLISHED    BY  J.    &   J.    IIARPEn.  3 

NARRATIVE   OP   DISCOVERY   AND  ADVENTURE 

IN  AFRICA.  From  the  earliest  Ages  to  the  present  Tmie.  With  Illustrations 
of  its  Geology,  Mineralogy,  and  Zoology.  By  Professor  JAMESON,  JAMES 
WILSON,  Esq.  F.R.S.E.,  and  HUGH  MURRAY,  Esq.  F.R.S.E.     18mo. 

DISCOVERY   AND   ADVENTURE    IN   THE   POLAR 

SEAS  AND  REGIONS.  With  Illustrations  of  their  Climate,  Geology,  and 
Natural  History  ;  and  an  Account  of  the  Whale  Fishery.  By  Professor  LESLIE, 
Professor  JAMESON,  and  HUGH  MURRAY.  [With  a  Map  of  the  Polar  Seas 
and  Regions,  and  several  Woodcuts.]     18mo. 

LIVES  OF  EMINENT  PAINTERS  AND  SCULPTORS. 

By  ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM,  Esq.     In  3  vols.  18mo.     [With  Portraits.] 

THE  LIFE   AND  ACTIONS    OF  ALEXANDER  THE 

GREAT.  By  Rev.  J.  WILLIAMS,  A.M.  Vicar  of  Lampeter.  [With  a  Map  of 
the  Campaigns  of  Alexander  the  Great.]     18mo. 

THE  COOK'S  ORACLE,  AND  HOUSEKEEPER'S 

MANUAL.  Containing  Receipts  for  Cookery  and  Directions  for  Carving.  Also 
the  Art  of  composing  the  most  simple  and^most  highly  finished  Broths,  Gravies, 
Soups,  Sauces,  Store  Sauces,  and  Flavouring  Essences;  Pastry,  Preserves,  Pud- 
dings, Pickles,  &c.,  with  a  complete  System  of  Cookery  for  Catholic  Families. 
The  Quantity  of  each  Article  is  accurately  stated  by  Weight  and  Measure  ;  being 
the  Result  of  actual  Experiments  instituted  in  the  Kitchen  of  WILLIAM  KITCH- 
INER,  M.D.  Adapted  to  the  American  Public  by  a  Medical  Gentleman.  From 
the  last  London  Edition.     13mo. 

DIRECTIONS  FOR  INVIGORATING  AND  PROLONG- 
ING life  ;  OR,  THE  INVALID'S  ORACLE.  Containing  Peptic  Precepts, 
pointing  out  agreeable  and  effectual  Methods  to  prevent  and  relieve  Indigestion,  and 
to  regulate  and  strengthen  the  Action  of  the  Stomach  and  Bowels.  By  WILLIAM 
KITCHINER,  M.D.  From  the  Sixth  I,ondon  Edition.  Revised  and  Improved 
by  THOMAS  S.  BARRETT,  M.D.     18mo. 

MODERN   AMERICAN    COOKERY:    Containing   Direc- 

tions  for  making  Soups,  Roasting,  Boiling,  Baking,  Dressing  Vegetables,  Poultry, 
Fish,  Made  Dishes,  Pies,  Gravies,  Pickles,  Puddings,  Pastry,  Sick  Cookery,  &c. 
with  a  list  of  Family  Medical  Recipes,  and  a  valuable  Miscellany.  By  Miss  P. 
SMITH.     18mo. 

LEXICON  MEDICUM;  or,  MEDICAL  DICTIONARY: 

containing  an  Explanation  of  the  Terms  in  Anatom}^,  Botany,  Chemistry,  Materia 
Medica,  Midwifery,  Mineralogy,  Pharmacy,  Physiology,  Practice  of  Physic,  Sur- 
gery, and  the  various  Branches  of  Natural  Philosophy  connected  with  Medicine. 
Selected,  arranged,  and  compiled  from  the  best  Authors.  By  ROBERT  HOOPER, 
M.D.  F.L.S.  The  fourth  American,  from  the  last  London  Edition  ;  with  Addi- 
tions, from  American  Authors,  on  Botany,  Chemistry,  Materia  Medica,  Mineralotry, 
&c.     By  SAMUEL  AKERLY,  M.D.     In  2  vols.  8vo.     [With  an  Appendix.    " 

A   DICTIONARY  OF  PRACTICAL   SURGERY:   com- 

prehending  all  the  most  interesting  Improvements,  from  the  earliest  Times  down 
to  the  present  Period ;  an  Account  of  the  Instruments  and  Remedies  employed  iu 
Surgery  ;  the  Etymology  and  Signification  of  the  Principal  Terms  ;  and  numerous 
References  to  Ancient  and  Modern  Works  :  forming  a  Catalogue  Raisonne  of  Sur- 
gical Literature.  By  SAMUEL  COOPER.  From  the  sixth  London  Edition. 
Revised,  corrected,  and  enlarged.  With  numerous  Notes  and  Additions,  em- 
bracing all  the  principal  Improvements  and  greater  Operations  introduced  and 
performed  by  American  Surgeons.  By  DAVID  MEREDITH  REESE,  M.D. 
In  2  vols.  8vo. 


4  WORKS  PUBLISHED  BY  J.  &  J.  HARPER. 

LIVES  OF  CELEBRATED  TRAVELLERS.  By  J.  A. 

ST.  JOHN.     In  3  vols.  18mo. 

SKETCHES  OF  VENETIAN  HISTORY.    In  2  vols.  ISmo. 
THE   HISTORY  OF   POLAND,  from  the  earliest  Period 

to  the  present  Time.     By  JAMES  FLETCHER,  Esq.     With  a  Portrait  of  Kos- 
ciusko.    18mo. 

FESTIVALS,  GAMES,  AND  AMUSEMENTS,  Ancient 

and  Modern.     By  HORATIO  SMITH,  Esq.     18mo.     [With  Engravings.] 

THE   HISTORY  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE,    By 

J.  G.  LOCKHART,  Esq.     [With  Portraits.]     In  2  vols.  18mo. 

LIVES   AND   VOYAGES   OF  DRAKE,  CAVENDISH, 

AND  DAMPIER  :  including  an  Introductory  View  of  the  earlier  Discoveries  in 
the  South  Sea  ;  and  the  History  of  the  Bucaniers.     [With  three  Portraits.]    18mo. 

THE  LIFE  OF  LORD  NELSON.     By  R.  SOUTHEY, 

Esq.     [With  a  Portrait.]     18mo. 

JOURNALS  AND  LETTERS  OF  LORD  BYRON.  By 

THOMAS  MOORE,  Esq.     In  2  vols.  8vo.     [With  a  Portrait.] 

THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES   OF  HIS   LATE  MAJESTY 

GEORGE  THE  FOURTH.     With  Anecdotes  of  Distinguished  Persons  of  the 
last  Fifty  Years.     By  the  Rev.  GEORGE  CROLY.     [With  a  Portrait.]     18mo. 

LIFE  OF  MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS.  By  HENRY 

GLASSFORD  BELL.     In  2  vols.  18mo.     [With  a  Portrait.] 

LIFE  OF  LORD  BYRON.     By  JOHN  GALT,  Esq.    18mo. 
MEMOIRS  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE.     By  J.  S. 

MEMES,  LL.D.     18mo.     [With  Portraits.] 

THE  COURT  AND  CAMP  OF  BONAPARTE.     18mo. 

[With  a  Portrait  of  Talleyrand.] 

ANNALS  OF  TRYON  COUNTY;  or,  THE  BORDER 

WARFARE  OF  NEW-YORK,  during  the  Revolution.  By  WILLIAM  W. 
CAMPBELL,  Esq.     8vo. 

THE   PLAYS  OF  PHILIP  MASSINGER ;    adapted  for 

Family  Reading,  and  the  Use  of  Young  Persons,  by  the  Omission  of  Objectionable 
Passages.     In  3  vols.  18mo.      [With  a  Portrait.] 

THE  PLAYS  OF  JOHN  FORD ;  adapted  as  above.     In 

2  vols.  ISmo. 

A  TREATISE  ON  SHADOWS,  AND  LINEAR  PER- 
SPECTIVE. By  CHARLES  DAVIES,  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  Mili- 
tary Academy  at  West  Point.     Royal  8vo.     [Illustrated  with  Copperplates.] 

ELEMENTS  OF  SURVEYING.    With  the  necessary  Tables 

and  Plates.  By  CHARLES  DAVIES,  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  Military 
Academy  at  West  Point.     8vo. 

THE  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE   OF  SURVEYING ; 

containing  all  the  Instructions  requisite  for  the  skilful  practice  of  this  Art,  with  a 
new  set  of  accurate  Mathematical  Tables.  By  ROBERT  GIBSON.  Illustrated 
by  Copperplates.     Newly  improved  and  enlarged.     By  JAMES  RYAN.     8vo. 


WORKS  OF  THE  LATE  REV.  ROBERT  HALL,  A  M 


NOW  PUBLISHING, 

In  three  Volumes,  8uo.,  and  to  he  completed  by  the  \st  May,  1832, 
(each  volume  sold  separately.) 


THE  ENTIRE 


W  O  E  K  S 


REV.   ROBERT   HALL,   A.M. 


WITH     A     BRIEF     MEMOIR, 
AND   A   SKETCH    OF    HIS    LITERARY    CHARACTER, 

BY  THE   RIGHT   HON.  SIR  J.  MACKINTOSH,  LL.D.  M.P. 

AND  A  SKETCH  OF  HIS  CHARACTER  AS  A  THEOLOGIAN 
AND  A  PREACHER, 

BY  THE  REV.  JOHN  FOSTER. 


PUBLISHED  UNDER  THE  SUPERINTENDENCE  OF 

OLINTHUS    GREGORY,   LL.D.   F.R.A.S. 

PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS  IN  THE  ROYAL  MILITARY  ACADEMY. 


"  Mr.  Hall,  like  Bishop  Taylor,  has  the  eloquence  of  an  orator,  the  fancy  of  a 
poet,  the  acuteness  of  a  schoolman,  the  profoundness  of  a  philosopher,  and  the  piety 
of  a  saint." — Dr.  Parr. 

"  There  is  a  living  writer  who  combines  the  beauties  of  Johnson,  Addison,  and 
Burke,  without  their  imperfections.  It  is  a  dissenting  minister  of  Cambridge,  the 
Rev.  Robert  Hall.  Whoever  wishes  to  see  the  English  language  in  its  perfection, 
must  read  his  writings." — Dugald  Stewart. 


NEW-YORK : 

FOR   SALE   BY   THE   PRINCIPAL   BOOKSELLERS   IN  THE   UNITED   STATES. 


Seldom  has  the  decease  of  an  individual  in  any  class  of  society 
made  a  deeper  impression  on  the  public  mind  than  that  which  has 
been  produced  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Hall  ;  and  proportioned  to  that 
impression  is  the  earnest  frequency  of  inquiry  respectirig'^the  complete 
edition  of  his  published  works,  and  his  unpublished  remains. 

This  is  not  the  proper  place  to  attempt  the  delineation  of  Mr.  Hall's 
intellectual  or  general  character.  For  many  years  have  persons  of 
every  rank  and  denomination  expressed  their  admiration  of  his  talents, 
and  formed  a  very  high  estimate  of  his  exertions  in  the  promotion  of 
truth  and  virtue.  Although  a  dissenter,  and  betraying  no  disposition 
io  shrink  from  the  avowal  of  whatever  sentiment  or  practice  he  adopted, 
he  was  not  the  exclusive  property  of  any  party  ;  and  as  his  writings,  in 
the  main,  involved  no  peculiarities  of  religious  opmion,  he  justly  received 
the  cordial  approbation  of  the  wise  and  the  good;  while  even  the 
bigoted  and  the  skeptical,  however  they  might  dislike  his  principles, 
were  compelled  to  do  homage  to  his  genius,  and  often  to  yield  to  the 
persuasive  force  of  his  eloquence. 

A  disorder  with  which  Mr.  Hall  was  afflicted  from  his  childhood, 
and  which  always  rendered  the  act  of  writing  irksome  and  painful,  pre- 
vented him  from  publishing  so  much  as  might  otherwise  have  been  ex- 
pected ;  his  avowed  publications,  however,  are  far  fi'om  inconsiderable 
in  point  of  magnitude.  Besides  these,  there  are  several  pieces  on  mis- 
cellaneous topics,  of  different  degrees  of  interest,  some  of  them  published 
on  special  occasions,  which  were  circulated  without  his  name,  and  were 
known  to  be  his  only  by  his  intimate  friends  :  of  some  of  these,  indeed, 
it  has  been  difficult  to  procure  a  single  copy.  In  addition  to  the  mis- 
cellaneous pieces  just  referred  to,  there  are  early  compositions  of  Mr. 
Hall,  written  when  he  was  about  the  age  of  twenty,  which  will  be 
read  with  great  interest  by  those  who  love  to  trace  the  growth  of  an 
intellect  like  his  from  its  earliest  bloom  to  its  full  matuiity.  Of  the 
works  best  known,  and  most  highly  valued,  some  are  entirely  out  of 
print,  while  others  have  reappeared  only  in  unauthorized  editions.  It 
has  therefore  been  thought  due,  alike  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Hall,  to 
the  interests  of  his  family,  and  to  the  religious  public,  to  collect  the 
whole  of  his  writings  in  a  uniform  publication. 

Among  Mr.  Hall's  papers  are  unexpectedly  found  a  considerable 
number  of  Sermons,  in  his  own  handwriting ;  which,  though  many  of 


them  incomplete,  are  jiulged  to  be  of  great  value,  and  will  be  faithfully 
printed  according  to  the  manuscripts.  Much  too  has  already  been  ac- 
complished towards  the  preparation  of  several  valuable  Sermons  from 
the  notes  of  g  i.tlemen  who  heard  them  preached.  Many  friends  of 
the  deceased,  on  understanding  that  the  publication  of  his  works  was 
intended  to  render  a  permanent  benefit  to  his  family,  have  contributed 
most  unreservedly  and  generously  to  this  department  of  the  under- 
taking. Of  some  valuable  Sermons,  four  or  five  copies,  taken  inde- 
pendently, by  different  mdividuals,  have  been  received  ;  by  the  collation 
of  which,  with  adequate  care  and  pains,  all  that  is  especially  instructive, 
and  much  that  is  beautiful  and  impressive  in  the  composition,  have  been 
caught  and  preserved. 

The  Editor  has  also  received  from  various  friends  and  correspondents 
of  Mr.  Hall  a  valuable  collection  of  Letters.  These,  when  duly 
arranged,  will  be  found  to  present  the  most  natural  and  instructive  bio- 
graphical illustration  of  the  writer's  sentiments  and  character,  from  his 
seventeenth  year  to  within  a  few  weeks  of  his  death. 

The  following  is  the  proposed  arrangement  of  the  Contents : — 

Vol.  I.  Sermons,  Charges,  Circular  Letters,  and  Tracts  on  Terms 
of  Communion  and  John's  Baptism. 

Vol.  IL  Tracts,  Political  and  Miscellaneous ;  Reviews,  and  Mis- 
cellaneous Pieces. 

Vol.  in.  Sermons  from  the  Author's  own  Manuscripts,  with  a  Selec- 
tion from  his  Letters ;  Sermons  from  notes  taken  while  they 
were  preached :  with  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  the  Author,  and 
Review  of  his  Writings. 

Vol.  L  is  now  ready. 

Vol.  L  contains  a  Sermon  on  the  Doctrine  of  Substitution,  from  Isaiah 
liii.  8,  preached  at  Luton  in  the  year  1822,  and  never  before  pubhshed. 

Vol.  II.  will  contain  an  unpublished  fragment  of  a  Defence  of  Village 
Preaching,  written  partly  m  the  year  1802. 

Vol.  III.  will  contain  Letters  and  Sermons  not  before  published. 

In  the  preparation  and  arrangement  of  these  Volumes,  Dr.  Gregory, 


in  eveiy  case  where  such  aid  seems  expedient,  avails  himself  of  the 
judgment  of  the  Rev.  John  Foster,  Author  of  "  Essays  on  Decision  of 
Character,"  on  "  Popular  Ignorance,"  &c. 

The  Memoir  has  been  undertaken  by  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  one 
of  Mr.  Hall's  earliest  friends,  and  whose  intellectual  endowments  emi- 
nently qualify  him  for  the  task. 

An  accurate  and  beautifully  executed  Portrait  of  the  Author  will 
accompany  one  of  the  Volumes. 

Persons  wishing  to  subscribe  to  the  Work  are  requested  to  send 
their  names  without  delay  to  their  respective  Booksellers. 


Date  Due 

— rfSK' 

11 

PRINTED 

IN  U.  S.  A. 

